February 3, 2012 by Amie M
Superbowl is the weekend. I’m not a sports person, except for the odd hockey game. And football is definitely not for me: there are just so many rules to keep straight! But one thing I do love about Superbowl is the commercials.
VW released their follow-up to last year’s “Vader-kid.” It’s cute
I like to keep things positive. After having a rough go at it with my thesis, I decided my health, and my mental health were more important. So instead of giving in to pressure to be more stressed, to work more, to put in more hours, I made a conscious effort to be able to leave my thesis stress at school. I focussed on me, my happiness. Then I found that the times I worked on my thesis I was more productive. I can really understand what Mr. Achor is saying. In order to be more productive, you have to put your happiness first, everything else will come next. (Thanks for the great share, Kate)
I’m starting to think my Friday posts should just end with an “Ode to Joy,” but that would be awkward. I swear I’m not a huge fan of hers, and haven’t made cakes for all my friends solely out of her recipe box. Not awkward? Right? It’s ok, I think. The woman knows she’s awesome. And she has an awesome cat. Maybe her kitten can be an eligible bachelor for Audrey?
If I get some of the girls to come over for a non-Superbowl Sunday snack and chat night, I’m making these bad boys.
Paul and I got our travel vaccines yesterday. I was super excited to watch Paul squirm and maybe cry out in pain when he got his shots. I was expecting him to have to get his yellow fever shot. I did, four years ago before Brazil. It. Hurt. They use a bigger gauge needle, stick it into the muscle, then angle it upwards to under your skin. Oh man does it hurt.
But nope, the nurse said we didn’t need yellow fever shots for Peru, just Typhoid and some altitude sickness pills. Paul ended up getting only three vaccines: Typhoid, Measle Mumps and Rubella and the flu shot. I got a whammy of a cocktail: Typhoid, Diptheria/Tetanus, Twinrix, and Measles Mumps and Rubella. My arms kill. That’s right, arms. They can only do three shots in one arm. But the nurse was nice, and saved the biggest needle for last, the Twinrix. I think Paul psyching her up for my screaming/crying made her give me the worst one last, so that I don’t get freaked out right away. I behaved myself though. One small kick out with the first when the nurse surprised me, then an “Ow” with each subsequent one, then a whole lot of “Ow, ow, ow! That one hurt!” with the Twinrix. I took them like a woman! And so did Paul. The nurse told us that it’s usually men that pass out afterwards.