Mobamarms

One of my New Year's resolutions is to have Michelle Obama arms (aka Mobamarms) by the end of this year. I've always considered my arms one of my worst features, so now I'm finally going to do something about it. For real this time! No more sets of 3 with pink, 2-pound weights almost every other night. I've moved on to the big-girl machines at the gym. Last night was my third night at the gym this week! That may not be shocking to anyone else, but it's a personal record for me.

Now if only I could get Mobama to be my personal trainer....

Some Adult Truths From a Coworker

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. I can't really relate to this personally since it never happens to me, but I get the idea.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

There is great need for a sarcasm font.

Was learning cursive really necessary? Learning cursive just ruined my print.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

Bad decisions make good stories.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. No one's gonna make me throw away my Mary Poppins VHS!

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my 10-page technical report that I swear I didn't make any changes to.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

It's hard to decipher the fine line between boredom and hunger.

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word someone said? Mostly I don't even bother with the What; I just go right to the nod. Whoops!

No French Fry Tips!

Talking to a friend recently, I suddenly remembered a rather traumatic job I had for a few months of freshman year. Feeling both benevolent and desperate for a job at the time, I had signed up to be a "personal aide" for a disabled student living a few floors down. By disabled I mean quadriplegic. My duties: escorting her to/from class, helping with notes/homework, feeding her lunch, and *ahem* assorted hygiene stuff. Don't even ask.

Another thing is that "Mary" couldn't speak, so she used a computer-controlled voice synthesizer thing. Each conversation took an eternity! "Hey, Mary! How's it going?" "Hi.....Chris..tine. I'm.....do...ing..fine. C..an....you..(two minutes pass)..please....ti..e...my....hair?" (She'd ask me to do really random things for her all time - tie her hair, rub lotion into her hands, look for her favorite sweater in the closet, etc.) It was hard to not think of Stephen Hawking at times like this.

The only really scary part was lunchtime. Mary had an undying love for the french fries at Sweetheart Cafe, and she asked for them almost every time. The thing with these french fries, though, is that they're cut pointy at both ends, which means they also get extra crispy in the fryer. Not a good thing to swallow when your throat's not working properly. I literally had to cut the ends off of every...single....fry. Then I had to cut the blunted fries into smaller pieces before finally feeding them to her. I don't know if you've ever heard a quadriplegic person swallow, but it sounds awful. I freaked out the first time thinking I made her choke. Oh, how could I almost forget about the juice? That made me almost pass out! I also used to worry about what would happen if she got hugely overweight eating french fries and being in her chair all the time.

I still can't believe I actually had this job, except that I remember how exhausted I'd feel after a shift. Some of the (larger, stronger) aides actually lifted her out of the chair for restroom breaks and showers - thank God I'm too small for that! I can't imagine having no privacy at all and being forced to rely on complete strangers for even the most basic things. I wonder how Mary's doing now. The last time I saw her was three years ago on campus from too far away to say hello.

Names

Ann and I can kill a few hours just talking about names - our secret future baby names, the names we'd rather have instead of Ann and Christine, or our steadfast belief in how having certain names can create certain personalities. Once we wandered around Claremont for hours just talking about names and picking out which houses were the nicest. Ann likes it when someone has a first name-y last name, like John Oliver. I like names that translate easily into nicknames, like Olivia. You can't really get any good nicknames out of Christine. 'Chrissy' is kind of disgusting. My friend Joanna calls me 'Christiney weenie" sometimes, but I like her enough to let it slide (as I cringe to myself). Oh well.