Glitter, Boas, and SCUBA
Last weekend consisted of seeing Ocean’s 13, two dives, a bachelorette, a intervention of sorts, and an emotionally charged Sunday that ended with my going out in public in my NAVY SOCCER sweatshirt (which I wore again the next day at work) and glasses. That sweatshirt rarely sees the light of day out in public, I stopped doing that when I was 15 and realized that looking like a shapeless sack wasn’t exactly attractive.
On Saturday, before Jenn’s bachelorette, I went on two dives at Narrows. This was the first time back in the water in three months (not including my botched dive at one of Ben’s classes). So its my first time back in the water, I’m diving at a site that I’m not particularly fond of, we’re spear fishing, and its current intensive. Why yes, I think this will be a fabulous time for me to get back in the water. I knew it wouldn’t be my best diving, but I didn’t exactly think it would end up like a cluster (it was a cluster). And while my diving did improve over the course of the two dives I’m still not particularly happy about how things went, and I ended up with severe sinus pain.
But why do I bring this up? Mostly because I became slightly beyond irritated by the fact that I my dive grand master pubah wanted to rehash this with me again last night among other topics that make me slightly twitchy (like my ex, my gear, my sinuses, is my ENT doctor qualified to work with divers, past certifications etc). I completely understand that he has no idea how it comes across to me, and if I brought up how I feel about last night’s conversation he would probably be really concerned that I was upset by everything. And while I know he wasn’t trying to make it personal, I was a wee not-so-happy.
Lets face it, diving sucks right now. I’m pretty much completely miserable every time I try to dive. Its not because I hate diving, I love diving. It sucks because I’m not able to dive as much as I want, or when I want, or just be able to drop to 40ft without wanting to rip out my ears and sinuses. I used to dive four to five times a week and now I’m lucky if I’m making it the water more than once every two months without sinus issues. I’m not finished with my dive master certification or my assistant instructor certification which means I’m stuck in candidate status for at least the next month. The only answer anyone can come up with on the diving side is that I need sinus surgery. On the non-diver side everyone is anti-surgery. Well great. Add that in with my stubbornness and indecisiveness and I’ll probably get around to dealing with this sometime in 2042.
I brought this whole scuba/sinus/surgery issue up with my parents this morning and my Mom said I should quit diving (grr) which of course elicited a response from me which sounded like a cat being thrown through a wood-chipper and maybe some choice language (w-t-f). Only my Mom didn’t hear any of this because she tossed the phone to my Dad before hearing my thoughts on her comment. My Dad told me to just ignore her and that they just worry about my diving. Um. My diving nowadays (which is practically nonexistent at the moment) is still 100% safer than the crap I used to do. . .grr.
I know I will probably have both certifications finished in the next four to six weeks. I know that the steps I’m taking are the right steps and with the right people, I’m just antsy to finish up and decide my next steps.
So I’m a bit exhausted and cranky and I’ve decided to take my ball and go home. Or more specifically put my ass in a car for five hours because I’m too cheap to pay the ridiculous airfare to visit my parents. I’m sorry, I’m not paying $500 to fly into a town 300 miles a way with a runway so small only prop service can land! I could fly to effing France for $500. Plus, I waited too long to fly Southwest into Spokane so driving it is! Eastern Washington is lovely this time of year. . .or something. So anyways, tomorrow I’m going to P-town to visit the parents, shop at Wally World, and dare I say get more than 8 hours of sleep over the course of two nights.
This afternoon I tried picking up a new FM transmitter for my Sansa so I’m not forced to listen to Mexicana circus music/talk radio (no offense Jenn) for 5 hours while driving home. I went to Target, which was apparently sold out of all devices except for IPOD accessories (awesome). When I asked the lovely red polo clad minion if he knew if they had anymore in back he just stared at me and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I’m not sure.” Um, “I’m not sure?” that answer does not confirm or deny the existence of the electronic goodness I require now does it? He just stood there and stared at me. I began to wonder if he was suffering from a mild stroke or brain death. Thoughts traveled through my head wondering why someone would aspire to work in the electronics department of a Target over say a Best Buy. Needless to say, I’m still transmitter-less. I’m hitting up the Fred Meyer after work because the Best Buy is too far away. Damn you Ipod for dying on me!
Now that I’m done ranting how about some pictures?
When heels and liquor mix
All of us with our VIP Bouncer
An example of what happens when penises, dayglo, and glitter unite
Oh and Jenn, I found you and Roberto the best wedding gift ever. I like my steak medium rare thanks 🙂