Your Hurdle / JUICE MADE A TYPO LETS MAKE FUN OF HIM

I hate to stir the pot here

 

Sheesh, don't get all fired up now.

 

Bah dum dum dum duuuummmm

 

Did Juice burn your buns? Your sense of humor's toast

 

Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?

 

I thought Juice was chill, like ice cream flash frozen with dry ice. Instead he got hot, poached in his own juice sous-vide style.


That was Cooking Puns, Iron Chef Edition.

 

Is the Juice worth the squeeze?

 

I don't think we can eggstract any more puns out of this poor bread.

 

I wasn't going to jump in here with some deadpan humor but let me talk about the focus.

My problem seems to be similar to Jimmy's. Unless there is "Oh shit I need to get this done" pressure its difficult for me to focus. I've realized this a lot at my current job where I can't hide behind any of the excuses I had at my old jobs. "Eh, once I get to a job I like I'll be able to focus" "I can't focus because I don't really care" "I can't focus because this isn't what I want to do" etc. Now it is what I want to do and its like a mental action to not check the newer email when I'm writing an email. Then I'll get the second email start writing a response to that, then for some reason want to take a break to check gchat, then stop and check the board, then grantland, and oh fuck I got two emails I started but never sent.

 

I had some very serious physical problems with my left arm going into my teenage years. There was a growth just behind my deltoid and it was eating away at my bone, causing it to break a miniscule five times over the course of a few years. One surgery was performed and the docs thought they had it removed but it returned and began eating away again. Cue me breaking my arm for the sixth time.

They reexamined me and found that the growth had returned and performed another surgery to remove the growth and also took bone from my left hip and put it into my arm. They told me after my arm started to heal that if I hadn't broken it for the sixth time that it would have gone unchecked and they wouldn't have been able to save my arm. So yeah, I was months away from a completely different life.

Thankfully, I got my arm stronger and have no issues with it. To this day though my right arm is still dominant in most things even though I'm left handed.

 

Hmm, does graduating law school while going through an horrific (and ongoing) child custody battle for 2/3rds of it with the ex-fiancee count? I obviously biased, but that came to mind during graduation and I remember being impressed with myself for having survived without dropping out or my grades falling off a cliff. In a related matter, bar study is hell. Particularly when you have to take out whole half-days for court mandated things (that everyone in the state going through a child custody dispute has to do regardless of what your details are) that are designed for the worst parents ever(I'm reasonably certain some parents showed up under the influence...at 8:30 in the morning), but since everyone is treated the same regardless of their situation everyone has to do it.

Frying pan.

 

Bit of a rant, so skip through if you're not extremely bored. I just figured it'd help getting it down in text.

Spoiler

I've just come through the most challenging 6 months of my life, and consider myself stronger for it:

1. October last year, my mother went into hospital on a Tuesday for tests to try a new type of chemotherapy,
2. The day after, my father went into hospital to have a segment of his bowels removed for polyps,
3. The following Thursday, my mother passed away (after 6 years fighting),
4. The evening after, my father gets within an hour of death (the surgery was not quite right, he went septic due to fecal matter in his abdominal cavity and his liver and kidneys shut down), and is put in a medically induced coma in ICU.

Now, I arrived on the Saturday morning to see my father as I was meeting the funeral planner and wanted to know his thoughts. They didn't notify me of the surgery or his condition. Cue me arriving at his hospital room with none of his belongings there and the bed freshly made, two days after my mum passed. You can rightly assume my thought process.

So, for the following months, I moved back into my parent's house, was spending time with and caring for my father (he had to shit in a bag for 3 months), organizing my mothers funeral, dealing with my brother (drug induced psychosis and schizophrenic), and running my father's businesses.

That's not all: about a month after my father got out of hospital I had an old fuck-buddy text me the "I'm pregnant" angle, and went to significant lengths to procure fake medical documentation to try and prove it was the case. Thankfully it turned out to be BS. Also, to make it more stressful she stated things like "hopefully your dad dies so I can get his money" (silly woman sent it through text, and I threatened to take it to a court for a restraining order if she didn't leave me alone).