Steve Got a Nose Job

Actually, he didn't get a nose job. I did, but not the cosmetic kind. It all started about 7 or 8 months ago when my family doctor recommended that I get nasal surgery after some pretty nasty pseudo-sinus infections. I said I'd think about it. I lied. But mostly because I did not want people to think I had gotten a nose job. And I didn't want to pay a BAZILLION dollars for surgery, what with me being the SOLE breadwinner and all (just rubbing it in, Steve). Well, fast forward to spring break when my face blew up and I scared people with my Hunchback-of-Notre-Dame-face in the ER. After seeing the allergist he decided I needed a CT scan of my head to make sure nothing was wrong. They didn't find the cause of the allergic reaction (the sucky antibiotic I was on-you were right Ammon), but they did find that my nasal cavities were VERY bony. Hence the reason I could not breathe well (as it turns out, it's not normal to pant and have a runny nose when you go up the ten stairs to your door).

So, Steve was very convincing in "encouraging" the surgery. During our consultation the doctor informed me that there was a possibility that I could leak cerebral spinal fluid, but that was rare so I

shouldn't be concerned (I was). Next, he explained what he was going to do (snip, snip here, chop, chop there), which Steve thought was SO interesting but scared the life outta me. It did not help that they made me sign something the day of the surgery saying I had no medical power of attorney or a will in case I died (he said this was going to be a minor surgery). Good thing we have modern medicine and I don't remember a thing about the surgery.

I can finally breathe, even though I'm not allowed to blow my nose for a couple more days (2 weeks total). Don't worry, he vacuumed my boogers out during my check-up appointment. I did get a bloody nose with a clot about a half a tablespoon in size that was dislodged after a sneeze somehow misfired. While bleeding everywhere (I really mean it-it even got on the walls of the bathroom), I was banging on the bathroom door with my foot and shouting but Steve couldn't hear me over the Harry Potter movie (which was a lame movie

because Doby died and he was the only one I liked). I made Steve call the doctor and it turns out that was normal (I felt really foolish because we did bother him at 10 pm, whoops).

Not that I ever considered plastic surgery before, but I never would after that. I do not enjoy being nauseated and in bed all day for days afterward. And I don't like not being able to blow my nose (neither does Steve). I do not have any pictures of me following the surgery, mostly because I don't allow Steve to take pictures of me when I look gross. Nobody wants that documented or out on the internet forever. So instead, here are two pictures Steve and colored after church a couple Sundays ago.

The State of Texas vs. Idiots Who Waste My Time

About three weeks ago I was summoned for jury duty. While waiting for jury selection to begin I overheard a woman in her fifties say that after thirty years in College Station this was the first time she'd had jury duty. What the heck?! I live here for 9 months and I get summoned! It seems a little fishy to me.

Anyway, back to my story. Somehow I got stuck on the second jury for a SPEEDING TICKET! Really, you can't just appear before a judge?! BOO!!!!! Big, fat waste of my morning. The guy claimed that the officer had not clocked him at 20 miles over the speed limit, so he must be lying and wants to see proof on the radar gun. Oh, and he also mentioned that he NEVER speeds only to have the city's attorney bring up a ticket from a few years ago where he drove 15 miles over the speed limit in a school zone when school was dismissing. I didn't care if he was guilty or not (although it sure looked that way), so because he felt the need to waste our entire morning over a $200 ticket that he didn't want to pay I thought we should find him guilty (which we did). So, not only did he have to pay the ticket, but he also had to pay court fees as well as for the gas he used to drive from Houston.

Don't worry, I got paid for my services. Apparently, my three hour morning at the courthouse was worth a whooping SIX DOLLARS. That's two dollars an hour and well below minimum wage. And here's a picture of the check to prove it.