Diagnose This!

Despite my previous blog entry, my health still falls into the shadier category of existance. Today I woke up feeling dizzy for the umpteenth time in a row. I ate some breakfast, hailed a cab, and went to the drop-in medical clinic. After waiting 3 hours for an appointment, the doctor informed me I'm probably suffering from depression (which, just for the record, I most definitely am not) because I conveniently fit into the age, gender and general profile of someone with anxiety problems. That, and because he narrowed down the causes of my vertigo. Street drugs are NOT the problem. (Thanks for clearing that up for me doc!) Oh, and apparently I'm a liar, too:

"Are you on medication?" No. "Do you have allergies?" I have seasonal allergies. "Do you take anything for them?" I was taking Claritin last week just to relieve my cold symptoms. "So why did you lie when I asked if you were on medication?"

To placate my disagreeing nature he did some bloodwork. But not before he left the nurse's office, with a wink encouraging me to "talk to someone" about my "dysphoria."

I hate the walk-in clinic.

I have decided that I am going to get better. I am going to ignore this persistant dizziness. Cross my fingers and hope that it goes away. And here's how I'm going to do it: start living life like normal again. The first step? Blogging.

Medicinal Charm

Mom and Dad,

Don't fear! I'm clearly on the mend, with my health improving in every capacity as the moments pass!

This has been most clearly demonstrated in tonight's game of Scrabbulous with the Alex Dodd*:

Final Score

Jessikers: 382

theunbelievable: 237

The score, however, is not the evidence of my improving health**-- my propensity to brag about my superior score is the real proof.

Whatever. I'd rather be a sore winner than a sore loser.

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*To compensate for my constant goading, and gloating, and every gluttonous "g" word in between, I have decided that Alex Dodd is no longer Alex Dodd. He is now the Alex Dodd. This will make him feel better about himself, since playing games of Scrabble against me clearly*** isn't helping his self-esteem in any shape, way, or form.

**And just for the record, I only beat the Alex Dodd by a mere 50 points on Sunday night. His Scrabble skills are improving. Should I be concerned?

***Clearly is my favourite adverb. My love affair with its overuse must end. Clearly.

The longest way (Snot Insurmountable)*

It's officially day seven of the illness.

I thought I was starting to get better. I woke up at 7 a.m., coughing a bit, but my perpetual headache was finally gone.

But when I got up at 8 a.m. to go to the bathroom, I discovered that my entire pajama top was soaked in sweat and there was a fingerprint like rash on my chest. Returning to my bed, I realized that my sheets and duvet were also soaked with sweat.

The house is freezing.

It's afternoon now, and the rash is gone, and I'm trying to convince myself the illness is too. I'm bored of laying in bed all day. This is midterm week, and I don't have time to be sick.

Now if only my body would catch up with my mind.

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*Snot Insurmountable= typo Alice made to me on msn. I thought it was apt.

Facts for Friday

1. I'm really sick.

2. I'm back in Toronto.

3. I have a fever and haven't showered in days. I'm sweaty and gross.

Facts for Friday: Indisputable Evidence.

Monday is Mail Day

I'm not going to lie, I was a little bit embarassed when the mailman handed me this package, with a raised eyebrow. That's right, I'm having a sordid love affair with Al Gore. Wanna fight about it?

Actually, I'm pretty sure if I was sleeping with Al Gore, and he sent me a romantic care package, the contents would have been similar.

Haha. I love how this was like an infomercial for Alex's own food blog.

I also like how Alex Dodd sent me something that he thought I might not like. For the record though, I love candied ginger. It's good for nausea, especially where motion sickness is concerned. You can also drop candied ginger in tea for a little extra flavour.

However, I bit into the alleged soy nuts...and they were nuts of beans of some variety, but they were definitely not soy nuts, because soy nuts are roasted. What occured in my mouth was far from delicious.

I kind of wish I wasn't headed to London this afternoon, because I really want to make the curry lentil soup right now. But all the bulk dried goodness is going into Ziplock bags for the bus ride.

Because nothing says "be my friend" like yogurt covered raisins.

The (not for) Chinese New Year's Party

Last night, Court, Jonny, Ashley and I showed up to the party at 518 geared and ready for action.


I came fully equipped with all my action figure accessories: brandy snifter, pipe, and more class than you can handle.

518 was ready for us too. Walking into the bathroom, I discovered it was freshly painted, without a trace of graffiti or markers on the walls. Weird. In the bathtub there was also these knives. "What's up guys? Are you trying to encourage people to off themselves?" I asked right away.

It turns out that I'm just morbid, because upon further examination it's clear that the knives were quite blatantly there for shotgunning beer. (Reason #1 I'm socially awkward: comments like that.)

Brie and Mark love me even though I'm obstrusive. At least, I think they do.

And Dayn indisputably is completely ignorant to my social problems. Thanks Dayn!

Dayn and Mark made amazing mojitos.

Brie and Lana chilling in Mark's room with some other party-goers.

Charles and Ian.

Reason #2 I'm socially awkward: This morning on my camera, there was a surplus of pictures that I had taken by myself. I like this one in particular, because you can see the party in full-swing behind me, while I'm hanging out by myself. Awesome.

Jonny, Court and Brie.

Brie, Mark, Kyle, Ashley and Marla.

Charles is also not guilty. Allegedly.

Charles, is, however, guilty of letting the girls paint his nails black.

This morning when I was looking through Ashley's camera, I had to laugh because she had taken a similar set of pictures of herself, also cam-whoring in the bathroom while there was most likely a long line of people waiting to use the bathroom.

Yah, Mark, I might be a little socially maladjusted. It's a good thing that I have a pipe and brandy snifter to charm people with.

Brie nuzzling in towards the end of the night.


I made some new friends.

I danced a little.

And I ranted at length about social activism, soybean production, and Lasix eye surgery. (This, of course, would be reason #3 that I'm socially awkward.)

And then it was time to go home.

Dear Reading Week,

I might not be in Montreal, New York, or Cuba right now, but I kind of like you so far. Thanks!

Lots of Love,

Jessica

This post is awkward

Karen's in Ottawa, Katrina's in Florida, Brie's over at Mark's, and Ivonne's working a shift at the hospital. So, for this rare moment in time I'm home alone with only The Best of Bon Jovi for company. (The alternate title of this post should probably be: "Hello stalkers. Here's your chance!")

I'm getting ready to go out to the "(not for) Chinese New Year's Party!" at 518 by pre-lubing.* I'm strangely nervous about the evening. I'm debating having a drink. A rye and coke, perhaps? Hmmm. I don't know if that would go well with my drinks for later in the evening. I picked up some brandy and a couple of Strongbow ciders (I was indecisive at the LCBO and the security guard kept eyeing me and asking if I wanted help, hence my random choices).

The truth is, I've always been pretty sure that the whole "don't mix your liquors" thing is just an urban myth created to confused people. Where's the proof that mixing liquor and beer is bad for you? This has always confused me.

I'm nervous for the most ridiculous of reasons, too. (Warning: this is about to turn into the confessions of a 16-year-old girl getting ready for her homecoming dance.) Heather and Dan are going to be at the party. I've been lurking on Heather in the blogosphere for a solid 3 months now and I've only met Dan once before. And unfortunately, the one and only time I met Dan was the same night as the weekend I quit blogging (temporarily). It involved Alice, Scott and I staying in a London hostel and drinking the junior high special. Dan met me under these conditions.

The thing is, that like many bloggers, I'm really socially awkward. (Alex Dodd disputed this fact until I reminded him what our first conversation was about. He agreed that if he was not like-minded, I may have come across as inappropriate.)

I'm not quiet socially awkward. I'm abrasively socially awkward. Intrusive, even. The chances of me offending someone are quite high.

Time to go make that drink.

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*In addition to adhering to a strict regime of drinking water throughout the night and when I get home in the evening, I also like to drink a lot of water before I start drinking for two reason: 1) I think there's potential that this helps in the hangover prevention process and 2) even if it doesn't, at least the water fills up room in your stomach so you're less likely to drink a lot of alcohol. This is called the pre-hydration process. My mother, however, likes to call this the pre-lubrication, or pre-lubing process. She justifies calling it this because she thinks it probably makes it easier to puke.

The Devil's Juice

Last night Court and I headed to Kensington for Ben's birthday celebration. Everyone was instructed to bring a specific bottle of liquor and Ben had set up in the corner a bar, complete with a bartender! We tried all of the drinks except for "Into the Blue." We weren't a big fan of the Devil's Juice, but loved the Pomtinis!

The bartender wrote our names on our cups, sort of like when you're in fifth grade and you go to a birthday party and the mom has already written your name on a paper cup before you even get there. (And then of course, you still invariably lose your allotted paper cup, and need another one in the end. In my case, there was always more than one Jessica at the birthday parties, which led to me stealing other people's cups.)

He had a little trouble understanding the spelling of Court's name, though.

Ben requested that we all dress up, which we did with ease. Jonny sporting the pipe!

Jonny waiting by the bar for the bartender to return.

Happy Birthday Ben!

Okay, these are the red shoes that I was talking about. Verdict? (I guess I have to keep them now, since I've worn them now.)

Thanks for the lovely evening Ben! I hope your birthday was wonderful!

Facts for Friday

1. Although I've always prided myself on not owning any branded clothing (with the exception of some of my jeans) I've since realized that although I don't have any name brand clothing, I have a surplus of corporate branded clothing.

My current corporate masters have given me enough branded clothing to clothe a small third world nation including:

-2 adidas t-shirts
-1 backpack
-1 windbreaker
-1 adidas fencing jacket, with a massive silk-screened logo on the back
-1 first aid bag
-1 cotton t-shirt (I used to have more, but I gave them away)
-1 hoodie
-2 golf tees
-1 cell phone

2. By our third week in Vanuatu, all the girls had broken down. Jo had waxed her upper lip, Tara had shaved her legs, and Becca was wearing full-out makeup. My weakness? Eyebrow plucking. My armpits were hairy, I smelled disgusting and there was a thick layer of mud on my feet at all times, but heaven forbid I let my eyebrows go astray!

3. I've never tried smoking cigarettes before. (I missed the memo in 7th grade and didn't go out to the alley with all the other girls for that mandatory rite of passage. This undoubtably was a huge contributing fact to my ostracization throughout the entirety of my school career.) Yet, I still can't stop thinking about the prospect of learning how to smoke my pipe.

4. On Wednesday, my class went on a field trip to Magazines Canada, where we were allowed to browse the warehouse and take as many backissues as we pleased. It is unlikely that I will read many of these, but I like to think that I might, someday.

5. It's officially Reading Week, and I'm not in Cuba right now. This is most definitely a fact.

6. When I was in Finland, my dreams would be almost entirely in Finnish. It was like my brain collected all the things I hadn't understood throughout the day, and decided to make my sleep in a foreign language as well. After looking into it, this is apparently relatively common to people living in other countries. It's difficult to research because it's not something that can be qualitatively measured, but apparently people are more proficient in a foreign language in their dreams. (I would liken to this to the fact that I first learned to speak Bislama when I was drunk. Despite my journeys, I'm horrible at foreign languages and have a mental block that prevents me from speaking them confidently. It makes me sad.)

7. Superheroes are often independantly wealthy.

Facts for Friday: I'm like a Bon Jovi Dream Machine.