The boy, the pants and a scalpel

Let me tell you the story of a boy, new white pants and a shiny scalpel:

Jack was cleaning up after dinner on Friday night (aw, what a good boy! See how well I have him trained?) when he felt something in the sink stick into his wrist. As reactions go, he pulled his wrist away as fast as possible and in doing so, managed to run the entire width of his arm across the blade. So after a minute or two of watching the water turn strawberry colored he thinks “I’ll do what everyone does with cuts, put it under running water for 5 minutes until the bleeding stops.” Ladies and gentlemen, he actually did try this (and I don’t recommend you do!) and when the bleeding didn’t stop (shocking that really…), the conversation went a little like this:

Jack: Ana, I’m bleeding…

Ana: That’s nice, dear. Put a band aid on it *goes back to Cosmo*

Jack: That’s uh, not what I um, meant… *walks over to me* Its, uh, bleeding, um, a lot…

Ana: *looks up from Cosmo and sees blood running everywhere*

Yeesh, okay, so maybe a band-aid wasn’t going to be the best thing to use. This is where I finally see the use in my first aid training. Thank you Mr Cranky Boss Man! Anyway, I grab my new sweater off the couch and put pressure on his wrist at which point I get, “Ana, you don’t do that, it’ll make it worse…” from the boy… wtf? He seriously doesn’t understand how these things work. I see all those biology classes are working well for you, Jack! After a few minutes of ignoring him and fighting with him trying to pull his arm away, the bleeding had stopped a lot (and so had the whining).

Being really handy, I’d just bought a new first aid kit. I pretty much buy one of those or at least some band-aids, every time I get a new scalpel since I seem to be a master at slipping and cutting myself… Moving along, I cleaned his arm, which induced more whining… “No, you don’t use that stuff… It’s not the right thing, Ana. Stop it’ll get infected.” So by now, I have blood on my sweater and pants as well as iodine everywhere not to mention a cranky boyfriend. Mmm yum! I finish cleaning it and the whining stops again for 30 seconds until I start using those paper stitch things to close his arm and then I get “I need stitches, stop that won’t help…” All this coming from the boy who thought you hold your arm under running water to stop bleeding. Genius!

By the time he’s all nicely bandaged up he’s gone really quiet and he’s looking verrrry pale. I’ve seen corpses with more color, seriously. Hmm:

Ana: Jack, do you feel okay?

Jack: Yeah, a bit dizzy

Ana: Maybe you should lay down for a little while…

Jack: I’m fine

Ana: You’ll faint.

Jack: Only girls do that. I’m going to change my shirt…

I think he managed to stand up for all of 3 seconds before he felt horrible and another two seconds for him to faint. Ha, always listen to the lady, Jack. *does the I told you so dance* Hah, before I forget, what was that the doctor said, Jack? It wasn’t that I’d done a good job was it? Oh no wait, it was…

I love you really.

Ninja dogs, spelling lessons and fries.

Why is it so difficult for people to spell my name? Its three letters long and two of them are the same! Come on Brandon, you know I’m Ana not Anna, but just in case its a tricky concept for you… here goes:

A N N A = Random girl who’s name sounds the same as mine but isn’t.

A N A (note: only one “n”) = Me.

So to sum up, its Ana, not Anna, you asshole (I know how much you love that phrase so I thought I’d add it in…) Got it? Before moving along, are there any other issues that you need help with, Brandon, dear?

Good, now we’ve got that little bit of edumacation out of the way, we can begin. Anyone up for some idiots? I was in starbucks earlier (come on, when am I NOT there?) and I met someone I haven’t seen since high school. Anyway, we talked a little and for some reason, I was almost expecting him to say “do you want fries with that” right in the middle of our conversation. He really was that dumb. Greasy too. I suppose he doesn’t need knowledge, he’s going to live of mommy and daddy forever. I hate people like that.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of kids like that in my high school. Hey, if your mom and dad are going to spend all that money on sending you to a school like that, you might as well be polite and actually learn something. I hate rich kids, I seriously do. I’d say more than half of the kids there are going to end up living off their parents for the rest of the lives since they quite frankly don’t have a mental capacity above that of Paris Hilton. Money is NOT a substitute for intelligence.

Before I explode or the pressure inside my head gets to the point where it liquefies whatever brain I have left, I’m going to change the subject. Last night I had a feeling it was going to be nice and quiet. I even thought there would be a chance for a little nap. Turns out, my gut feelings are wrong or stupid or both. I was at work until about 2, came home and was just about to get into bed (it was 2am, I was sleepy!) when I had to go out again for more work. At least I’ve managed to make all my hours for this week, eh? That means there’s no work tonight, or tomorrow, or Saturday but the way I see it, I’ll still be recovering…

And how am I going to be able to recover when Levi has stolen yet more of my food? She’s developing some kind of stealth ninja-dog skills. She managed to jump onto one of the stools in the kitchen, onto a higher one and then onto the counter top before creeping over to me in “attack” mode. (Had I not been wearing my iPod and reading Vanity Fair, I might have noticed a black and white clad dog (Oh no wait… that’s just her fur, not a special operations outfit. Silly me) before it was too late.) I saw her shadow loom across the article I was reading, felt a little pull on my hand and looked up to see a furry face clamped onto the top of my banana… *cries* THIS MEANS WAR! Its almost a shame the other dog was born without even a tiny brain, then maybe I could train myself an army of ninja dogs…

The two handed typist

There will be no more of this.

Yes, thats right folks. I have the use of not one but both of my hands. I got my cast off… FINALLY. So, I left the cast, penis drawings and all, at the hospital and went to meet Jon (who I’ve only ever spoken to online before) and his friend. If you’re getting your cast off, its certainly not a great idea to go and meet someone for the first time. The feeling is similar to having your braces off except instead of your teeth falling out, its your hand falling off (oh and I don’t mean literally). Same difference, eh? I get the feeling that he thought I was insane (or disabled) because, it put it lightly, I was using my hand like an uncoordinated retard. I’ve seen stroke victims do better…

So a little while later I sit on the couch with a cookie and watch some random plastic surgery show… gross your way to relaxation? Hell yes. Anyway, I’m just sitting there minding my own business when I feel something breathing on the back of my neck, a wet nose brush my ear, paws on my shoulder and then suddenly, my cookie is gone and theres a dog in my lap. Ah so thats where she was! Gosh darn it, remind me never to eat cookies on the couch again.

I was forced to go to work cookieless and covered in dog fur. Do you realize how difficult it is to go to work without your cookie?! Its worse than not having your coffee… Despite my slightly “fragile” condition I passed another one of the retard tests that my supervisor threw at me. It was about as difficult as “do not run with scissors.” At least I can do that, eh? Bahsickally there wasn’t much else for me to do so I got the rest of the night off. Its almost as good as being able to work normal hours *hint*

After having stolen my cookie, Levi spent all night asleep on my chest blowing cookie breath across my face. Sure, just rub it in a little more why don’t you… I gave up with sleeping and went flying instead… okay, not quite when I woke up but it was soon after. Early morning Noo Yawk is pretty from at the air. Its just one of those things you have to see yourself, I suppose. I considered being amazing and taking some photos for you but I’m not that nice.

Come fly with me, lets fly, lets fly away….

Chai Tea and Tai Chi

I went to tai chi last night. I’m like so New York and cool! Before you say it, without mentioning any names *cough*Jonathan!*cough*, Tai Chi is NOT some place I was going for a vacation! Nor is it to be confused with Chai Tea *cough*Lucas*cough* Okay, so it looks like a lot of silly movements and pretending to be all floaty and such but its REALLY hard work. I have a stiff butt now… On the bright side, I slept well and I had a second night without any calls.

Wednesday is passover. For those of you that don’t know, passover is a Jewish excuse to eat lots and get drunk. Its fantastic really! Anyhoo, we’ve worked out that *I* am the youngest in my family (my sister doesn’t count ’cause she doesn’t read Hebrew) so I’m the one who has to read the Mah Nishtanah. 18 and I’M the baby, gosh. Anyone got any ideas on how to remember this:

She-b’khol ha-layloht anu okhlin chameytz u-matzo. Ha-lahylah ha-zeh, ha-lahylah ha-zeh, kooloh matzo?

She-b’khol ha-layloht anu okhlin sh’ar y’rakot. Ha-lahylah ha-zeh, ha-lahylah ha-zeh, maror?

She-b’khol ha-layloht ayn anu mat’bilin afilu pa’am echat. Ha-lahylah ha-zeh, ha-lahylah ha-zeh, sh’tay p’amim?

She-b’khol ha-layloht anu okhlin bayn yosh’bin u’vayn m’soobin. Ha-lahylah ha-zeh, ha-lahylah ha-zeh, koolanu m’soobin?

And no, I’m not going to write you a translation ’cause I’m a mean, elitist Jew. Ha. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, kiddies.

So while we’re on the subject of passover I said I’d make cinnamon balls which are the single most yummiest Jew food, well, ever. Even nicer than honey cake! For the less Jewish of you (gosh, what are you playing at, come join the dark side… we really do have cookies!), they’re made of ground almonds, cinnamon, sugar and egg white then baked into little balls that are gooey and reallllly good, especially then they’re warm. Lets just say I’ve tired to make them three times already and each time I end up with nothing to show for it… I didn’t eat them ALL myself, I swear. Jack helped! With all this food, I finally realize why Jewish ladies are fat.

Loosening my pants, uh I mean moving along, you KNOW you go shopping too much when you walk into Macy’s and you’re greeted by name. Its either that or they’ve just gotten wise to my “Oh that looks pretty, I need three. Price tags, you say? I’m sorry, what are those?” shopping style. I was good today. *cough*I did not spend $300*cough* Yes, so after Sam and I went to Macy’s, I took her to the toy store, courtesy of mom, obviously, and then we went to put some rocks on my grandmas grave (she died around this time last year :[ she was a super lady!). Pfft, again for all you non Jews (gosh, all the explaining I have to do!), you put a little rock on a grave every time you visit to show you’ve been there.

And now, NOW, I’m going to eat more food…. please… excuse me.

The emo emu

Its time to lay off the cheese before bed. There really is nothing worse than having an innocent dream interrupted by a giant emu with an emo hairstyle. Don’t you just hate it when that happens? You’re just minding your own business dreaming about New York being made out of ice cream and suddenly, out of nowhere, the emo emu stops cutting its wings (see, this is why emus can’t fly!) and shuffles over in that sulky emo manner… God damn it… I’m scarred for life.

It turns out that “Mr Snuffles” actually broke his finger and after the sheer horror of the incident (I’m told he caught his finger in a door…he’s a smart one) he’s taking two weeks off work. Of course, as I’m sure you can imagine, breaking your finger and having it taped is far more serious and incapacitating than breaking your hand and having to wear a cast. So, while the fingerless cripple is struggling to hold his coffee, I have to work his time too. As it happens, those are my nights off… looks like I’m not allowed to sleep… again. Thinking about it, it’s probably not a bad idea since I’m risking attacks from the emo emu!

Jack, you’re a sneaky sneak for last night! It was very must appreciated though.

Iain, congratulations. I told you things would work out in the end *winks* seems you got the best thing possible!

Penis Drawings and Giant Kangaroos

I’m suffering from induced sobriety paranoia. When the doctor said “Its not a good idea to drink while you’re on this medication” apparently what he meant was “You can’t have any alcohol at all, ever.” Its obvious they’re out to get me. How am I supposed to live while someone is waving an ice-cold beer in front of my face… God damn you people. I’m going to invent drugs which are actually made more effective with a beer or two. Then you’ll be sorry…

Lucas (my cousin) and his friend arrived last night. By the way, assholes, thanks for telling me! See, the first I knew of it was when I walked into my mom’s apartment this morning and had a giant kangaroo toy thrown at my head. Also, the giant penis you drew on my cast is much appreciated. Both a mark of maturity and class. Just you wait boys, I’ll have my revenge. Yes, yes I will. Hee, looks like this week is going to be more interesting than I thought.

Penis drawings and giant kangaroos aside, breakfast was good. I’ve eaten so much I can’t move. In fact, it’s slightly painful to even lift my arms to type this out but whatever…THE FOOD WAS GOOD. The food last night at work, however, was not. Tofu is.. tofu is… tofu is very bad. VERY BAD. I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would willingly eat it. Correction, touch it. In fact, I think I’m suffering some form of PTSD from the whole ordeal.