Mollywogger

Great.

In-town buddy EJW has mentioned this, but I thought I’d say a few things about it as well.  Evidently, the Reproductive Endocrinology Clinic at the University of Wisconsin Hospital (the only fertility clinic in the Madison area) is closing in June.

At first, news releases seemed to blame the upcoming closure on reorganization within the Hospital.  However, the front page of today’s Wisconsin State Journal told an entirely different story.  The clinic’s original plan was to move to a separate, non-campus location, but recent staff conflicts have ended that plan and convinced the Hospital to shut down the entire program.   Staff conflicts.  Sexual harassment, accusations of substandard care, inappropriate behavior with interns, etc.  Can you believe it?  It’s like something off of last fall’s ill-fated Inconceiveable. 

This is incredibly frustrating for those of us living in the Madison area.  Having a clinic on campus is so handy – the campus is a central location – the center of Madison, and the center of Dane County.  The next-nearest fertility clinics are in Rockford, IL or Milwaukee.  While a small clinic just opened on the East side of town, one that provides some treatment and monitoring (but not IVF or other related services), any other full-service fertility clinics are an hour and a half’s drive away.

I know that many of you have to drive for hours to get to your local clinics, and the prospect of a one and a half hour drive is not daunting.  Perhaps we Madison residents have been spoiled.  But, to me, the idea of a clinic closing due to staff conflicts (and thereby depriving a county of 450,000 people of fertility services) is just sickening. 

Of course, I take sexual harassment seriously, and there should obviously be an inquiry into the current accusations and proper disciplinary action should be taken, blah blah blah.  However.  I’m disgusted.  I’m disgusted that my fellow infertile sisters and brothers will be forced to use more sick leave, provide their employers with more excuses, spend less time with their families, and spend more money on gas because a few REs couldn’t agree that their problems were ultimately less important than providing fertility services to our community.

Updated:

EJW sends me news that the community has spoken and the clinic's staying put:

"Over the last two weeks, we have heard from our patients, employees, and the community about UWHC?s decision to close the IVF clinic and subsequently UWMF and UWSMPH?s decision to suspend plans to open an IVF facility.  We have listened and understand the community believes strongly this service should not be interrupted. 

We will continue to offer IVF and reproductive endocrinology services and have many practical issues to resolve, not the least of which are the faculty discord and the work climate.  We will need a week or two to work on these issues before we can offer specifics but wanted to communicate our general commitment today.

Longer term, we will commit to relocating IVF to the Discovery Springs property as originally planned.  We will sign the lease and plan for the relocation of the service.  Between our short and longer-term plans, we intend the service to be continuously offered. 

We thank those who have invested so much of themselves in being heard.  The opinions expressed have caused us to reevaluate and understand the imperative of continuing."

Woo hoo!

Is it just me, or did anyone else barf onto their shoes after watching the latest Chrysler Pacifica ad?

To recap: 6 glamorous women are shown driving somewhere fancy in a Chrysler Pacifica.  The glamorous woman driving climbs out of the driver’s seat, hands her keys over to the twenty-something blonde male valet, and murmurs (in a disturbingly sexual tone), “You’ll take good care of my baby, won’t you?”  Pull back to a full body shot, and it turns out that the glamorous woman is sporting a compact, glamorous pregnant belly!  Oh, ha ha!  Was she referring to her CAR or her FETUS?!  Ha ha!

The kicker: her 5 glamorous friends climb out of the Chrysler Pacifica, and guess what?!  They’re all sporting compact, glamorous pregnant bellies as well!  Ha ha! 

Voiceover: “The Chrysler Pacifica.  Seats 6 comfortably – or 12, depending on how you look at it.”

Ha ha!  Because they’re all pregnant!  Ha ha!

*barf*

Have I mentioned lately that my body is trying to collect as many non-life-threatening-yet-annoying-as-shit diagnoses as it possibly can?  I have blogged previously about the chronic migraines, the Seasonal Affective Disorder, and the kidney stones, but I'm not sure if I've mentioned the TMJ disorder, the for-no-apparent reason very easily infected sebaceous cysts, the eczema, or the Irritable Bowel Syndrome.  Well, yeah, I'm a mess.  Isn't it fun to be me?  I'm not even going to mention that a small mountain range of acne has hatched itself on my chin lately, and it's starting to frighten people.

The IBS is just a constant pain in the ass (heh).  I don't so much get the "IBS with constipation" variety that they advertise with all of those people who are pleased to let millions of Americans view their abdomens -- more the EXACT OPPOSITE: what I term "IBS with ANAL LEAKAGE."  Seriously, I have diarrhea 3-4 times a week.  It's gotten to be a given: if I go to a friend's house and eat a good-sized meal, after about 20 minutes you'll see a blurry streak as I haul ass to the bathroom.  I'm warning you, Alexa -- you better have lots of toilet paper ready this weekend, and it wouldn't hurt to have a trusty plunger as well.  Does Ikea sell plungers?  You'd might as well have one that matches your decor.

The migraines, I'm pleased to say, seem to be under control lately.  I think that I've finally found the triggers: lack of sleep, caffeine, and artificial sweeteners.  I got off caffeine about 3 years ago (it was really easier than I thought it would be, even though my favorite soda used to be Dr. Pepper and I still crave it with all of my being at times).  It was just recently that I discovered that artificial sweeteners are a problem for me.

I had heard that aspartame could cause headaches, courtesy of the organic goddess Jo.  While a study done by the fine folks at aspartame.org denied that there was any correlation whatsoever (a study that other sources refuted), I decided to do my own personal study (something about the fact that one of the byproducts of metabolism of aspartame was FORMALDEHYDE freaked me out a bit – call me crazy).  Since cutting diet sodas and other artificial-sweetener-containing products out of my diet, my headaches have lessened from 4-5 days a week to maybe 1 or 2 days tops.  It’s fantastic!  There have been moments when I decided to test my hypothesis, especially while visiting my parents, and try a bottle of the high-tech low-carb caffeine-free Splenda-containing energy drinks that my sister drinks.  Devastating results every time.  2-3 day migraines, aversion to light and sound, the whole shebang.  No fun.

I’ve heard that sucralose (Splenda) is technically supposed to be better for you since it is not actually metabolized by your body and just passes through your system, unlike aspartame.  However, I’ve found that I end up with the same headaches no matter what type of artificial sweetener I use.  Interesting.

The one thing that I haven’t given up, however, is my aspartame- and sucralose-containing Orbit gum.  In Sweetmint.  I figure that the levels are pretty trvial in gum, and that a piece or 2 a day can’t hurt.  I’ve tried the crispy crunchy all-natural gums from Whole Foods, but they frankly lose their all-natural flavoring within the first 5 minutes of chewing. 

 

Also, gum is the culprit of my TMJ disorders. Yes, you heard me correctly – I’m willing to sacrifice my health for the sweet, minty taste of Orbit.  No matter what!

Anyway, enough about my health.  Have I mentioned that I’m meeting 4 of you in 3 days?  Oh, I have?  Perhaps because I’m looking forward to it to a truly obsessive degree.  And the mojitos.

So, what’s up?

Hi friends, and thanks for the nice birthday wishes.  Big slobbery tongue kisses to all.

*ahem*

You know how even the most open people in the world (you know about my "intimate moisture", for Christ's sake) have topics that just don't get mentioned, for various reasons?  I think it's time to climb stop our trusty steeds and scale the heights of one of those unmentionable . . . um . . . mounds.  I am not the first blogger to attempt this, mind you, but I humbly follow in her footsteps.

A while ago, Jo (the new mom!) over at the Leery Polyp did a post in reference to what she so affectionately called "Sex Rags", and asked about what those readers who engage in "condomless male-female sex" did to handle post-sex cleanup.  We all do something, whether it's the "clench-and-run" (also known as "drip-'n'-dash") or the "kleenex-box-by-the-bed-that's-not-for-the-nasal-type-of-mucous" method, but who has actually sat down and discussed it with their friends?  Did any of your actually think about this before you first had sex?  In movies, didn't it seem like everything was just sucked into the vacuum that was the woman's willing loins, and no one had to roll into a wet spot?  I endlessly thank Jo for opening this important dialogue.

I will now continue said dialogue.  Topic of discussion?

Nipple hair.

(LIKE YOU DON'T HAVE IT.)

Now, I am one of the least hairy beings on earth, and I've got it.  So, surely, everyone does.

How do you deal with it?  Pluck 'em?  Let 'em grow?  Can you tie 'em in a knot, can you tie 'em in a bow?

Anyway, I'm just wondering.  And I know that, should no one else answer my question, Manuela will.  How do I know?  She writes posts like this.

Now, to purify our minds so that we can go forth into the world thinking lovely, wholesome, non-prurient thoughts, early congratulations are in order for dear Laurie who will be induced tomorrow and welcome her little Bookworm, conceived during her third IVF cycle.  Congrats, Laurie and Mike!

P.S. - I pluck 'em.

"I want to have kids in the next two years because I know that completes your life. I've had so much fun, and had a great life. I've accomplished everything that I wanted to accomplish and I think that when I have kids that'll make me happier than I already am."

--Paris Hilton

Yeah, um, Paris? You can't put diamond-studded collars on babies and carry them around in your purse.

Quiz

In the past 12 hours I have cleaned up:

A. A big patch of cat vomit
B. One good-sized cat hairball
C. Three cat poop carpet skid marks
D. All of the above

I'll give you one guess.

According to a 1997 study, 44% of Americans believe that "God created man pretty much in his present form 10,000 years ago."

Really?

44%?!

The site goes on to say, "Belief in creation science seems to be largely a U.S. phenomenon. A British survey of 103 Roman Catholic priests, Anglican bishops and Protestant ministers/pastors showed that:

-97% do not believe the world was created in six days.
-80% do not believe in the existence of Adam and Eve."

Another reason to join Pru in Brittania.

Well, tonight is my second-to-last shift at my neighborhood Barnes & Noble, after which I will have just one job like a normal person. I have mixed feelings about this: while I'm overwhelmingly glad that I'll once again have my weekends and evenings free, I do have some friends at Barnes & Noble that I will miss. Which is why God and Thomas Edison invented the telephone. Anyway, on to the point of this post.

As a way to enhance its "warm, comfortable and spacious atmosphere" (Company History, barnesandnobleinc.com), Barnes & Noble offers comfortable lounge chairs, a fully-staffed cafe serving Starbucks coffees, a wide selection of books, music, DVDs, games, and gift items, and public restrooms.

Most American citizens have a rudimentary understanding of the function and use of a bathroom. Most. However, in the past months, I've become aware that there are some real freakshows out there.

Consider these examples:

-Because Barnes & Noble frequently offers such fine magazines as Busty Beauties, Paddles, Leg World, and Plumpers, as well as other incendiary books such as Bearotica and Lighting for Nude Photography, sometimes the clientele feel they need an, um, outlet for some pent-up, um, pressure. I can't tell you how many stories I've heard of employees finding some of the above-mentioned reading material spread on the floor of the above-mentioned restrooms.

-A few weeks ago, one of our employees was thrilled to find a pile of shit on the floor in the mens room. In the stall, but directly on the floor. At least 3 feet from the toilet. There's no way you can accidentally "miss" by 3 feet, folks. Luckily, when a mess like that ensues, the managers are in charge of cleanup. The following week, however, our floor-shitting villain returned -- and this time he was caught in the act by an employee. I'm not really sure how this one was resolved, or what the young man's reason for floor-shitting was. I do know that he's not coming back anytime soon.

-Along with the reading material frequently found in the restrooms, there are often implements for concurrent use with this literature. My personal favorite report was of a cucumber wearing a condom. In case the cucumber had an STD, I guess.

-When I was at work a few weeks ago, one of the employees reported to the manager that there was a toilet plunger sitting in a toilet. The manager, figuring some good samaritan had tried to unplug their own clog, went in to survey the situation. Upon reaching for the handle of the toilet plunger, he found . . .

wait for it . . .

VASELINE ON IT.

Policy was immediately enacted removing all plungers from restrooms.

I only have two shifts left to collect more of these. I'll keep you posted - I'm sure you greatly appreciate it.

(Original Comments)

On Saturday, I sang in the wedding of a junior high/high school friend that I hadn't seen since my own wedding two and a half years ago -- let's call her T. Now, I've sung in my share of weddings, so I've sung some trite, cheesy little ditties. In fact, I sang for T.'s sister's wedding about 7 years ago, and I remember an especially hokey song I had to pull together for that one:

Oh yes, it's true,
He has chosen me for you.
Take my hand, and you'll agree
he has chosen you for me.

Yeah, cheesy, but bearable. HOWEVER - the horrible piece of crap I had to sing on Saturday has no equal. And that is even considering that I've sung "The Wedding Song" at two different weddings ("Rest assured this troubador is acting on his part" - what the hell? Troubador? Who was smoking crack when they wrote that piece?!)

The song I sang on Saturday was a Michael W. Smith piece called "The Other Side of Me." It seemed like your usual cheesy wedding fare at first:

If they had to write about
The story of my life
They would have to mention you
On every page they write -
There's another side to every story told

Ah yes, the life as a story. What a sparkling, innovative metaphor. Onwards:

If I were the ocean
You would be the shore.
One without the other
Would be needing something more.
We are the shadow and the light.

Is it just me, or is that fourth line just dumb? "Quick, I need something that rhymes with shore! And please, make the grammar as awkward as possible!" To the refrain:

Always love me
Never leave me now
Now you are the other side of me. (repeat)

Pretty basic pop-Christian love rhetoric. On we go:

I have known the emptiness
Of feeling out of touch,
And living life without you here
Would be living half as much
'Cause I've a need that only you can fill.

OK, well that's not horrible. It's actually kind of nice. Besides the 'cause. It's annoying and, ultimately, not even necessary. So far, I can deal with this song. Then it hits a submerged crap-berg and starts sinking faster than Vanilla Ice's career:

If love was mathematical
You'd understand the sum
To the heart's equation
Where one and one makes one,
And lonely equals me minus you.

And lonely equals me minus you. At this point, I'm hovering between nausea and the urge to pee myself from laughter. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. You want this song in your wedding? Please. No. Here, I'll give those soon-to-be-marrieds a few hints in picking their wedding music:

1. Any song with "'cause" in it is out. Period.
2. Sentences should roll off of the tongue. These are lyrics, for God's sake. They are written to sound nice with music.
3. Wedding songs should not contain math equations, even stupid fake ones, no matter how cute you think they are.
4. Again, no math in wedding songs. No math in wedding songs!

Now I'll have that piece of shit in my head all night. That's the price I have to pay for agreeing to sing a wedding song with MATH IN IT.

(Original Comments)