Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Foot in Mouth

Guys. I hate how much I put my foot in my mouth. Seriously?! HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO AWKWARD?! And then when I try to fix/justify what I just said? It's like pouring gasoline on a fire I already started.

The following are conversations in which I stuck my foot in my mouth (Figuratively. Not literally. Though literally sticking my foot in my mouth probably would've been a better response than what I actually said.) :

Girl I just met: What's he look like?
Friend 1: Blonde hair and blue eyes.
Girl I just met: I LOVE blonde hair and blue eyes!
Me: Hey! So did Hitler!

Friend 1: I'm Kelsey.
Me: I'm Carmen.
Friend 2's Fiance: Very cool! How do you two know each other?
Me: Oh, from high school.
Kelsey: We're high school sweet hearts.
Me: Yup.
Friend 2: So . . . when did you guys get back from your missions?
Me: Oh, the same week. Kelsey was waiting at the airport for me. *Grabs Kelsey's hand* Like a good girlfriend.
I froze as I saw the strange look forming on Friend 2 and her Fiance's face.
Me: I mean . . . we're not lesbian. It's just a joke. I like men! They're really attractive! I mean, YOU'RE really attractive. Well -- no. I mean, I'm not into you. You're hers. I'm just saying. I'm not a lesbian!
(Well . . . that certainly helped things. . .)
We continued to talk, then as Friend 2 and her fiance left, he said to us, "Good to meet you both! And I'm glad you're not a lesbian!"
Me: Hey! I'm glad I'm not a lesbian too! And . . . nice to meet you too!

I entered an elevator.
Other man in elevator: Floor four?
Me: Yup.
Other man in elevator stifles a laugh.
Me: . . . Did you ask which floor?
Man: Yes.
He burst out laughing.
I punched the number four button.
Me: Sorry. Thought you said floor four. Guess not. But. HEY! You're going on floor four too. That's good. It's a good floor.

I walked into a room that had a TON of flowers.There were about three people commenting on how beautiful they looked.
And then . . .
Me: Oh wow. It looks like a funeral home in here.

Friend 1: Did you know Virginia is for lovers?
I look at the car in front of us, and saw a bumper sticker donning those exact words.
Me: We should go to Virginia and tell people we're lovers AND cousins.

I knocked on my roommates door. I didn't know this roommate well at all, and I thought she hated me. But, she had had a guest, and I went to go give her what the person left for her.
I knocked on her door, and she beckoned me in.
Me: OH! HEY! I like your poster. And your bedspread. And your shirt! And your hair! So um. Here's this for you. Nick brought it by. I thought you weren't home. But I think you actually were. Anyway. Goodnight! I like that poster, too. And that lamp. And your bookcase. And shoes. Bye!

 It was the day of cleaning checks. I fell asleep in my underwear. The next morning, I woke up to my landlord knocking on my bedroom door.
It was pure shock. I sat straight up, gripping my blanket to my chin.
Female Landlord: Um. Hello. You sighed up for cleaning checks?
Me: *My head is still in a daze as I attempt to wake up.* YES. YEAH. I cleaned the kitchen!
Female Landlord: Okay . . . I'm gonna go check it.
Me: YEAH! Okay, I'm um . . .
I sunk further under the blankets
Me: . . . gonna get dressed.
Female Landlord: *Nods slowly* Yes . . . getting dressed is good.

Me: How are you?
Friend 1: Oh . . . I could be better.
Me: Well you could be worse, too!

Coworkers were all have a friendly chat about weight.
Me: I once knew a man who weighed 400 lbs. Actually, I think he just died recently because of his weight.
. . . . . . . . .
Coworker: Well. Way to kill the conversation, Carmen.
Me: I'm just sayin'!

Coworker: Don't get back in your car while filling it up with gas. It could create static electricity, which in turn could cause and explosion while starting the car.
Me: Do you remember that sniper in DC like . . . forever ago?
Coworker: Yeah.
Me: People got in their cars while filling up gas!
. . . . .
Me: Cause. . .you know . . . people were getting shot at gasoline pumps! So . . . it was safer for them.
Coworker: Well. This took a dramatic turn.

There are countless others of these stories, I assure you. So, if you ever feel bad about something you said, just remember, "You could be worse, too."

Have an awkward day, everyone!

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

My Medical History

I feel like visits to the doctor are just awkward in general.

I mean, they're asking you questions about your body you don't usually discuss freely with your friends. And I don't care HOW comfortable you are with someone, I really am not keen on describing my "stools" to people.
Don't worry guys. This post has nothing to do with stools.

So, Monday, I had to make yet another trip to the doctors. I suspected this appointment would last no longer than ten minutes, because it was just was a follow up on a prescription I was on. So after FORTY FIVE MINUTES of waiting, I finally get in to see the doctor.

I sat awkwardly down on that . . . I don't even know what they call it. That long, chair/table/bed thing that they cover in paper that always makes the LOUDEST sound at the SLIGHTEST movement.
I crossed my legs and sat up straight as a pin, cause I didn't know how else to sit.

We chatted for about five minutes, and we were good to go.

"Before you go," she said. "I want to check your heartbeat."

She checked my heart beat, my ears, and then my throat.

". . . Do you have family history of thyroid problems?"

". . . Yeaaaah. . ."

"Well," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "I think you might have thyroid issues. We'll have you take a blood test and an ultrasound on your throat just to be sure. I'll show you to where to go get your blood taken."

We walked to a separate lab where my blood would be drawn. As soon as I sat down, my stomach growled loudly, and I knew this was bad business ahead.

A nurse walked in and said, "How are you with your blood being drawn?"

My first thought?
. . . but that's a story for another time.

What I actually said:
"Oh, I'm usually fine, so long as I don't look at the blood. But I haven't eaten in a few hours . . ."

I probably should've been more specific. I had a light lunch at one o clock, and didn't have time to eat anything after that.
It was now currently 8 o' clock at night.
My stomach was making the rumblies.

"You should be okay. Have you drunk anything?" asked the nurse.
"No." I said.
She handed me a water bottle and said, "Here you go."

And I started to chug that bad boy down.

"Which arm do they usually draw from?" She asked me.
"The right, I think, but both usually work."

So, I stretched out my arm and she poked it . . . and poked it . . . and poked it.  I cringed with pain. I was hungry, it was really cold in the office, and I knew she wasn't having luck sucking my blood.

"Hmm . . ." she said, taking out the needle and replacing it was a new one.
"Do you want to try my left?" I asked, holding out my left arm.
"No, let's try your hand." she said, holding my right hand.

My thoughts:
. . . .THE CRAP?!

I had NEVER had that done before, or even heard of such a thing being done! And I did NOT want it done. But, not really sure what else to say, I let her prick my hand.


Seriously. It stung SO bad, and the most accurate words I have found to describe the pain was that it felt like, "Satan was digging his teeth into my veins and attempting to paralyze me."

For a split second, I had an irrational fear that she WAS going to paralyze me. I thought, "This pain will SURELY leave SOME sort of lasting issue in my life!"

"Are you in pain?" the nurse asked me, seeing that my eyes were shut completely, and my face twisted in pain.

"YES." I said through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking out the needle and replacing it with a new one once again. "The hand usually is more sensitive than the arm."

I was now squeezing my hand where she had pricked it in vain hope that the stinging pain would go away.

". . . But I don't think I needed to tell you that. You just experienced it." she said to me.

"Yeah. . ." I said, holding out my left arm.

She pricked my arm with the needle once more and SUCCESS! Blood instantly started to flow from the vein and all was going smoothly . . . and then. . .

Hello, dizziness.

I rested my head on the palm of my free hand.

"Are you feeling woozy?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, shutting my eyes once more.

"Well, we have enough blood," she said, taking the needle out once again. "Lay your head down and I'll come in with a snack."

A few seconds later, she came in with a basket full of snacks. I grabbed a granola bar and fruit snacks.
No fruit snacks and granola bar had ever tasted so good before.

"Feel free to lay here for as long as you need. I'll come in and check on your in a second."

I finished my granola bar, and immediately started to feel much better. I went to cross my legs, when . . .


I had forgotten my Harry Potter book and my glasses case were sitting in my lap.  They fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Ah, crap," I said, bending over to pick them up.


Two  nurses burst into the room, with terrified looks on their faces. I stared at them, my eyes wide, bent over with my arms extended towards my items.

"ARE YOU OKAY?!" one nurse exclaimed, gently helping me back up by the shoulder.

"I'M FINE! I'M FINE!" I said, a little bit in shock and embarrassed. I raised my hands up as if to say 'I'm innocent' and explained, "My book and glasses case just fell off my lap! I didn't pass out! I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?" asked one nurse. "I've heard that crash before. It's not usually a good sound."

"I'm fine! I promise!" I assured them, picking up my book and glasses case.

I held them up and said, "See? I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Lay back down," ordered the first nurse. "Stay as long as you want. We DON'T want you passing out. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes! I promise!"

"Okay. Stay as long as you want."

They left. I sat there, and then laid my head back down.

A couple of seconds passed, then I thought, "This is a stupid waist of time."

I stood up, swung my bag over one arm and held my book and glasses case in the other arm, and marched out the door.

"Are you okay?" asked one of the nurses.

"I'm fine! I PROMISE! The food was all I needed, and I feel much better now."

"You promise? You don't need to be a hero," said the nurse. "If you're not feeling alright, you can lay back down. We don't want you passing out again."

"Nope. Nope. I'm good. I didn't pass out. I'm tote-tah-lee good." I reassured her for the upteenth time.

"Okay . . ." she said with obvious hesitation.

I continued to walk backwards out of the doctors office shouting, "I'll eat more food next time, I promise! And I WONT pass out!"

I went home and proceeded to eat some dinner. A hearty bowel of cheerios. As I scooped up my cheerios out of the bowel with my right hand, I glanced at the top . . .
To see a MASSIVE bruise taking over.

I set the spoon down and breathed, "Are you kidding me?"

Two days later, the nurse called me and said, "Good news! Your blood results came back and everything, including the thyroid, looks normal."

I looked down at my bruise once again.
What I thought:
. . .So I went through this pain for nothing?!

What I actually said:
". . .Fantastic."

Don't worry. My had wasn't paralyzed, the pain ceased soon after I had "passed out", and the bruise is well on the way to recovery.

Have an awkward day, everyone.

These pictures make me strangely aware of how white I am.