Things I Like

• Hearing Chiroman randomly admit to having eaten dog food once. Off the floor.



• Having B___ (of Ace-Ventura notoriety) do a slow-grooving appreciative head nod and give a drawn out "Oh yeah" to you when your car turns on and blasts Moldy Peaches out the window as he's walking by.



• Unexpectedly getting to look at Chiroman for 4-hours in the middle of a Tuesday because your original instructor jumped-ship right before the semester started and Chiroman was lucky enough to get stuck subbing.



• Being the random go-to girl of excitement for a classmate who is all proud and wanting to brag that she's started incorporating way more veggies into her diet and is eating barely any meat.



• Watching Chiroman very absent-mindedly waving around and using a plastic-femur as a pointer for about 15 minutes while discussing some diagrams of knee-joint ligaments.

What Are Those Fish Called?

• So, both Chiro-Man and Bane of My Existence have each shown up to class once (at least that I'm aware of) looking positively translucent and ethereal and with skin so pale that they look like some sorta strange bottom-feeding fish in the greatest depths of the ocean, ones that have never ever seen the light of day (and which have those weird eyes that are on rods). They apparently need to get out in the sun more.



• Bane of My Existence (who just blows my fucking mind sometimes) went off on a tangent last night about a whole school of scientific study dealing with proportions, and the interrelationship between proportions and anatomy and physiology, and how each and every part of each and every living being has a specific proportion that is intended to relate to every other structure of the being's body so that the body can function in its ideal state. It just fucking blows my mind that our structures are THAT fucking amazing and beautiful and perfect in so many ways:


More stuffs on the proportions and all that:

* The Golden Ratio

* Brief points about proportions and art

* Phi

* Body proportiony stuff


• Last night, the Tom Waits song "Jitterbug Boys" came on my ipod on my way out to school, and I realized that Bane of My Existence often uses a quote from it, talking about "fast women, slow horses" and it made my ears perk. Granted, clearly Tom Waits ain't the only one to spin this phrase, but for a second--just a second--I thought maybe perhaps.



• While trying to explain the momentum of blood in the veins last night in class, Bane of My Existence drew a picture on the board of two large hills with a person on a bike at the base of the second hill and a person on the bike at the top of the first hill. The point was that the person who starts out on the top of the first hill will have a much easier time making it back up to the top of the next hill because they'll have picked up the momentum from speeding downhill to help them get back up. The person starting out at the base of the hill is pretty much shit outta luck because they're lacking the momentum. The problem was, when he asked us (after drawing his picture) which person would have a less difficult time getting to the top of the next hill, I had the terrible urge to shout, On *those* piece of shit bicycles you just drew? Ain't NO ONE gonna make it to the top. And what's up with that one dude's eye being obscenely larger than the other? I *didn't* shout it, but I couldn't stop thinking it. So for the next five minutes while he was trying to explain all this, my lips kept quivering with pent-up laughter and I swear I thought I was gonna go all maniacal on his ass.

THINGS THAT WERE TALKED ABOUT AT MY CHIROPRACTIC APPOINTMENT YESTERDAY

• My enlarged lymph node.



• Dog shows.



• Chiro-man's inability to spell things correctly. (See "VIGINA")



• Not sticking fingers in buttholes during chiropractic appointments.



• The Screaming Skull.



• The addictiveness of televised dog shows.



• Chiro-man's penchant for lawyer girlfriends.



• My nervousness.



• My bandaid.



• My comedic timing.



• Chiro-man walking me around on a leash.



• The unfortunateness of almost getting kicked in the groin during reflex tests.



• My significant-other's past snoring problems.



• The fact that Chiro-man's longest relationship has been 5 months long.



• Picking at dry skin.

Things Since Last We Spoke (Or Since Last I Spoke at You and You Pretended to Care, You Big Fake!)

1. Saw Bane of My Existence's children and wife the other night. He was herding them through the hallways and shushing his delightfully curly-haired and angelic daughter while she yammered away. I would like to say that having physically seen that he is a father has effectively cut off my crush at the knees. But alas, it did not. In fact, it made it a bit more squishy, truth be told.



2. Chiro-man adjusted my neck last week and it was *THE LOUDEST CRACK EVER* (I think because it was jammed up). Immediately after the noise echoed through the room, he shouted "Oh, yeah!" and for a second, massaged my shoulders like trainers do their boxers when they return to their corner, bloodied and battered, after the bell. I felt like shouting "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!" and flitting around a little while jib-jabbing the air with my fists. I also pictured the Rocky theme song playing. But when I pictured it, I think it was "Eye of the Tiger." Which is from Karate Kid, not Rocky if I remember correctly. *Jib-jabbing some more*



3. I was gonna say something about pain here today, about it being subjective and how there was something cool about that fact and that it had intriguing ramifications. But now I don't remember what it was. Use your imagination.



4. Scheduling classes makes me nervous. Only three more semesters (technically two, but I'm sticking around for one more out of necessity), and I feel uber-paranoid that something's gonna get fucked up and I'm not gonna get done on time.



5. Something something something.

More Demonstrable Proof

Bane of My Existence:

Total closeted literature-lover.

Yesterday, while trying to think up some historical figure's name, he blurted out "O'Henry!" and then was like, "Oh wait, no. He was just a writer."

WTF.

O'Henry--Gift of the Magi and all that.

I had to fricking google the man, since I wasn't even sure he was definitely a writer and if so, what precisely he'd written.

Seriously, he totally must sit around hunched under his covers at night with a flashlight and a good book. I'm telling you.

Yesterday, when Chiro-man was running his instrument up and down my spine, he was leaned in real close and at one point, I could feel his breath tiptoe real quietly across my lower back.

Holy crap.

Though it did make my toes curl just a little, it wasn't a hugely sexual moment by any means. It was just so delightfully intimate that all I wanted to do was to hit pause and sink into it for a little while so that I could really appreciate it.

But alas, no such luck.

(And no, I wasn't using "instrument" as a euphemism.

That would've prompted a BIT more toe-curling, no doubt.)

Just a Few Things...

1. It takes a rare sort of person to be able to make you laugh about sickle cell anemia.



2. I cannot help but laugh every time I microwave my dinner at school because for some reason, on the list of "microwave-usage rules" they posted by the microwave, it asks that we please do not use the microwave for a) canning purposes, and b) deep frying. I inevitably end up picturing some student in scrubs standing there in the cafeteria, trying to get the rest of their strawberry preserves canned before the long hard winter sets in.



3. I am beginning to think that The Bane of My Existence doth protest too much and may actually be a closeted lover of literature. Why? He hasn't been in school for about 20 years, and yet he remembered enough about Eliot's most popular poem to refer to it as "That Prufrock poem." How many people out of the general population would even have a clue as to what you were talking about if you mentioned "Prufrock" to them? My guess would be "not many." And yesterday, in a cute and dorky moment while talking about homeostasis , he started hollering "Homeo, Homeo, wherefore art thou homeo{{*dramatic pause*}}stasis?"
   
   *Singing* Closeted! */Singing*



4. I accidentally walked into the wrong changing-room after I got adjusted on Monday. And there were people in there. And they were changing, as people typically do in changing rooms. And for a second, I was about ready to shout, "What the hell are you doing in my changing room?!?!"
   
   I really do suspect I was Inspector Clouseau in a past life sometimes.

Catch-23, -24, and -25

When my chiro A&P instructor tried to adjust me yesterday, my muscles had everything so tightly locked in place that there was no delightful pop and glorious realignment of vertebra. This clearly frustrated him, and he flippantly grouched about how I have to not be so tense when he's adjusting me.

Admittedly, part of the fact that I can't relax is that I'm always thinking that he's gonna adjust a fart out of me. I mean, when you're bent over like you're ready to take it up the ass, your tail high in the air and your back arched, with someone about ready to thunk down on your lower back, it's hard not to feel like a fireplace bellow, ready to foof out a wee bit of breathy stink.

Admittedly, a second part of the reason I am sometimes tense is that I find him a wee bit cute (in a charmingly dorky kind of way), so interacting with him some days makes me feel a bit giggly on my insides, which in turn makes me not wanna rip one in front of him, which in turn makes me a wee bit tense.

But ultimately, the main reason I'm so tense is that my body is its own Catch-22, and I wish he'd realize that already. I wouldn't be so damn tense if my muscles weren't completely locked up. And my muscles wouldn't be completely locked up if I weren't so damn tense all the time.

*Realizing that might not precisely be a Catch-22 after all, but you get the point*

The thing is, my body needs to be adjusted and retrained so that the muscles are more relaxed. But right now it can't relax enough to HAVE the muscles adjusted and retrained. (Still not a Catch-22?) So I'm stuck in an unpleasant limbo.

And grumbling under his breath about me being too tense all the time doesn't aid in loosening me up. In fact, most of the time it makes me even more tense. (Catch-22?? Catch-22???)

So between my swoony farting-fears and my tight muscles yesterday, it was not so good a session. And it was made even less successful when it ended with him placing me in some creepy Hannibal-Lecter-esque adjustment device that he's never used on me before.

Word of advice, Chiro-A&P man: using devices that make a potentially-gassy, slightly crushing individual think of clothes made out of human flesh and a penchant for human livers and fine chianti: not so relaxing.

So Baneful

Why oh why must I find brilliantly smart guys so goddamn dreamy?

Seriously...

I'm starting to think there's something wrong with me and I have some weird subconscious teacher-student sexual fantasy lurking somewhere in the deep recesses of my skull, 'cause now I'm finding myself occasionally jonesing for a quick jump in the lap of yet ANOTHER instructor (or sometimes just to pet his head like a little puppy). Not *all* the time. But every once in a while. AND I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE WHY.

First it was The Bane of My Existence, and now this. What in god's name is the matter with me?

The weird thing is I've never *ever* been one of those folks who gets fiendish crushes on their teachers--not in high school, not in college, not in grad school.

Perhaps I've just acquired a taste for the sexy bite of brilliantly intelligent, strong men? (I suppose this wouldn't be that much of a newly-acquired taste though, since those're the kinds of folks I've *always* been attracted to.)

Perhaps I'm weirdly attracted to the brisk, anal-retentive, cut and dry, authoritative nature of folks because it leaves me intrigued about the soft spots that must be lying somewhere underneath it all, especially when they occasionally give a brief glimpse of these soft spots through little glitches of insecurities and/or weaknesses? Perhaps this is attractive to me because I do the same kind of things, so I'd like to think that there is, in fact, a good and beautiful person underneath it all?

Perhaps I am attracted to them because they offer up a hard-headed challenge to me and there's something extremely erotic in the idea of making someone who appears so strong and powerful bow down submissively before me?

Either that or I'm suddenly just becoming masochistically attracted to people whose personalities run completely counter to my own and who I'm torn between hating and wanting to lick.

I'm starting to think the latter may be true. Which is bizarre and disturbing but actually explains a whole helluva lot.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Gah.

I hate my anatomy instructor so much. Mostly because sometimes I *do* in fact wanna jump his bones, and THAT IS JUST F-ING WRONG!

The man has two distinct personas--a sort of Jekyl and Hyde thing, if you will. One side I could just bat my ga-ga-y eyelashes over and swoon and fan my chest about:

He is f-ing brilliant when it comes to anatomy and what he knows about it.

He is damn talented at teaching--he can make clear and cogent sense out of the most complicated thing you've ever tried to understand. Rocket science? Pah. He could explain that in under two minutes.

He gets all nerdly and geeky and excited when he talks about anatomy because he clearly loves it and enjoys teaching it.

He values education and spent 10-minutes yesterday basically lecturing a couple of students who were bitching about a different instructor and telling them that they're not going to learn anything if they only take the classes of the same instructors all the time--that they need to challenge themselves to learn the material through a whole bunch of different techniques and stuff, and that *this* is ultimately how they will learn and that *this* is what is ultimately important, not the grades.

He is a smart-ass and has a quick-wit and biting tongue.

And then there's Mr. Hyde:

His facial expression, his demeanor, his whole persona change as if a switch has been flicked and he goes off on extended ramblings degrading his wife and kids, or discussing how much he enjoyed torturing lab rats or how beating his dog is the only way to train her to be a good dog etc. etc.

I suspect most of this is bluff, that mostly he's just talking big and saying stuff for the shock value.

But it's disturbing to this animal-loving nerd. Mostly because some days I just absolutely adore the rat bastard and other days I find myself hating him *so much* during class that it makes my face burn. And I'm completely incapable of reconciling these two very disparate figures, so it drives me mad and makes me wanna beat myself with a long switch for the moments where I just wanna put my chin on my hands and stare longingly at him.

*Sigh*

Oh, but I did get a 99% in the class. To which I say, Stuff *THAT* in your animal-torturing asshole and smoke it, Mr. Hyde.

It shall most definitely be a mixed blessing if I get stuck with him again next semester.

Sick Some Pussy on the Man

My anatomy instructor is brilliant. He's encouraging and inspiring. And he's damn fricking good at teaching.

So why oh why must he be such a cat-hating, sexist, lame-ass douchebag?

*sigh*

Remember that scene in Indiana Jones where one of his students writes "LOVE YOU" on her eyelids and keeps blinking and winking at him all through class?

I totally wanna do that to my anatomy instructor.

But instead of "LOVE YOU," I wanna write, "Stop talking about torturing cats and I will joyfully tie you up and degrade you."

Unfortunately, I don't think that'd be easy to read from afar.