I'm Allergic To...

Recently, I received my first physical in three years, which I was more excited than is probably normal for.  I was very brave during my tetanus shot (apparently you need one every 10 years, but if you can't remember your last one, it's ok to double or quadruple up) and blood-let like a champ (I'm very competitive).  Despite this, I did NOT receive a lolly or any stickers.  Perhaps I should return to my old pediatrician; he always had a stockpile of He-Man and GI Joe stickers for me.

What really had me excited was the blood test I was getting for allergies.  For many years, I'd been allergic to fresh strawberries, and now this test would tell me whether I'd outgrown that.  For eight, long, stressful, other adjective days after, I awaited the results.  Salvation came in the form of a phone message, letting me know I was allergic to apples and pears (I beg to differ), but no mention of strawberries.  I was cured!  Possibly even by the power of Greyskull.  A few years ago, I faced my aversion to pecan pie, and proudly declared it not yuck, which meant there wasn't a single pie I didn't like.  I could now say the same in the fresh fruit realm; there isn't a single, non-poisonous berry I can't, and won't, eat!

This elation was short-lived, however, as the phone message droned on and on about things I am allergic. Surprisingly, I'm allergic to mold, but only one kind.  There goes my plan to coat my apartment in mold.  I'm also severely allergic to hazelnuts, but am allowed to eat them (not logical), and a slew of trees: maple, birch, beech, elm, cotton wood, pecan / hickory, and finally, most allergic to oak trees, which is odd, because I used to play with acorns all the time as a kid.  I'll avoid trees as much as I can for now, but I think it's finally time those tall bastards got what they deserve.  Time to chop down forests!

This Dating Life: Girlfriend Chronicles

Conversations that I've had with my girlfriend that I probably should have known better about:


While lying in bed peacefully, enjoying a quiet moment together:


"I'm gonna pick like, EIGHTEEN pounds of strawberries tomorrow," I exuberantly exclaimed.


"I was lying here thinking how glad I am that I found you and how happy I am," she said, somewhat disappointedly.


"Me too.  But I'm also just reeeeeeally excited for strawberry picking.  But yea, I like you too a lot."


While discussing my job:


"I got to look at so many cute animals yesterday.  There were puppies and babies, and evil kittens and babies, and puppies and evil kittens, it's ridiculous.  All I do all day is look at adorable animals and half naked women.  Well, usually they're really like, three quarters naked."


"Oh good," she said, though I was pretty certain she didn't actually mean it.

Let's Get a Physical, Physical...

For my first checkup in three years, I chose a female doctor at a practice recommended to me by my boss.  I wavered over this decision, as I've always felt more comfortable discussing symptoms with a male doctor.  My only real experience with female doctors had been on the internet, if you get my drift. I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, though again, if it was anything like the internet, she wouldn't be the one to say "open your mouth and say ahhh."


It was a pretty good experience, as I found myself easily talking to her and able to trust her, which is an important part of the doctor / patient relationship to me.  She offered to test for many things in my blood, including allergies and something called cholesterol, so that was all a plus.  But what sealed the deal was when she asked me to turn my head and cough.  It's MUCH better to have a female doctor touching your fun parts then a male doc.  My only complaint is I left confused at not getting a happy ending.

Hollywood Birthday Presents

Thanks for the birthday present, Hollywood.  Once again this year, you've created a Marvel comics-based movie just in time to celebrate me, and along with a few other titles, that, although they didn't come out on my ACTUAL birthday, were still probably made with me in mind.  Chief amongst these is Avengers, which is a fantastic follow-up present to last year's Thor, a movie I've been wishing for at least the last 12 birthday candle blow-outs.  A movie about the Norse God of Thunder, who also just happens to be my favorite Marvel super-hero, had big shoes to fill.  Which it did.  Fill the shoes, I mean.  The only way to make this a better birthday present last year was to have Natalie Portman share equal time shirtless with Chris Hemsworth.  But back to this year.  As if Thor, the amazing Robert Downey Jr and equally amazing, but for different reasons, Scarlett Johannson weren't enough, Avengers gets HAWKEYE, my favorite archer not named Robin Hood, played by Jeremy Renner (of Unusuals unfame).


But the present parade doesn't end there.  Presumed abducted by aliens, writer Gideon Defoe makes a triumphant return with his The Pirates! Band of Misfits movie, which appears to combine multiple books into one cartoon movie.  As if just creating the movie wasn't enough, my friend Hollywood also asked David Tennant, aka the best Dr. Who ever, to voice a character.

Wait, there's more?  How could Hollywood be so generous, you may ask.  We go way back.  Coming out in a few short days is RIHANNA'S acting debut!  Sure, it's in the sure-to-be-crappy Battleship, which is SO untrue to the original game, but it's still a movie with Rihanna in it.  I'll assume this was Hollywood's idea of a gag gift.  Still, I'm definitely sending you a Thank You card this year, 'wood.

Office Job Pitfalls

I recently tricked an old boss into giving me a job at the stock photography company she's running, which is great for me, because I like getting paid.  It allows me to live indoors (which is very important to me in the winter), and buy food to eat, and do other things that allow me to keep living.  I've been at the job now for about 5 months, and it's been going swimmingly.  Mostly.  It took me a while to overcome my biggest hurdle, which was salutations.


As part of my job, I had to call and email a lot of photographers.  It was easy enough to sign off my emails with "Thanks, L Bo," but I wanted something a little more fun and creative.  Many of our photographers are British, which allows them to casually and breezily say things like "Cheers," to end a conversation.  I, however, am American, and on top of that, not nearly cool enough to use that phrase on the phone, and in an email, it feels like I'm cheating.  I've tried many incarnations on the phone, like "talk to you soon," which is often a lie; "have a great day," which makes me sound like a salesman; and "sincerely," which doesn't even make sense.  I've finally settled on "Toodles," or "Ta-ta for now," when it's more formal.  Obstacle hurdled.

This Dating Life: Back Again, Surprise!

Conversation with woman from online dating site who I never met, but spoke with 6 months ago, then started dating someone else, now back in the dating game, and hoping to woo her into going out with me, since she was of the mind set that I was very inconsistent and inconsiderate:


Scorned woman: What do you do for a living?  I've forgotten


Me, pluckily: I'm a CIA agent/photographer/urban farmer/leg model


Her: unemployed?


Me, truthfully for the first time in too long, and triumphantly: Actually, no


Her: I'm guessing you are a photographer


Me, hysterically: That's cause you haven't seen my legs yet


Her, in a textual tone that let me know my goal wasn't working: Oh god


Me, trying to answer for real:  I am a photographer.  I'm working at a photo agency right now.  I teach. And I AM an urban farmer.  But I'm not a hipster.


Her, possibly disappointedly, and definitely breaking fundamental rules of English 101: But you aren't a leg model.  And you aren't a CIA agent.


Me: I can't confirm or deny that last one.


In the end, my charisma, charm and pluckiness won out and we went on some dates.  I ended up ending it, rather inconsiderately.

This Dating Life: Spoiler Alert

The world wide web of dating is rife with many pitfalls: crazy people, disappointing dates, and scams to get free meals. One thing I never thought I'd have to worry about though was a woman ruining a television show for me, until I got this message, responding to many of my professed interests:

"I really wanna go to the zoo. I could watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall over and over again. I want someone to teach me how to grow a decent strawberry patch. I want someone to watch Dexter with who was just as pleased when *REDACTED*. And someone who'll bake me mac n cheese then I'd make them fried ice cream. I'd also like someone who can reach the good wine glasses on the top shelf cause I'm too short. And someone who doesn't mind that I dance in my sleep."

Sure, there are positives. Zoos are some of my favorite places to go, more so during the fall and spring when kids are in school and can't ruin the experience for me. Anyone who recognizes the genius of F.S.M. clearly has good taste. I wouldn't mind someone dancing in their sleep, cause then they might be less likely to actually want to dance with me when we're both awake. However, then she's trying to put me to work. Strawberries are easy, as they spread like a weed. And sure, I can show off how tall I am and how long my arms are, but what do I get out of this? Can I use her head as a rest of my drink, to take advantage of her height as she is of mine? Finally, WHO REVEALS INFORMATION ABOUT A SHOW WITHOUT ASKING THE PERSON WHAT SEASON THEY'RE UP TO? An insensitive, unthinking jerk, that's who. Spoiler alert: We will NOT be going on a date. Ever.