This won't hurt a bit...

It's been an eventful 7 days, let me assure you.

Last weekend I journeyed with the Betrothed (and family) to a absoloutely refreshing and breathtaking resort which boasts the largest holiday light display in the country -- and it's smack dab in the middle of WHEELING, WEST VIRGINIA.

A few thoughts on Wheeling. And if you are from, related to someone who is from, known someone from, heard of someone visiting or even seen a roadside for West Virginia forgive my next paragraph. In fact, skip it alltogether. West Virginia is indeed "wild", but "wonderful" is going to require a little more of a stretch of the imagination. Actually, I think John Denver (R.I.P) had it right -- "Almost heaven, West Virginia." Almost. It's amazing that such a beautiful and scenic state can be filled with a bunch of people who care very little for its upkeep. I, myself, have not spent copious amounts of time in West Virginia -- I am surely no great expert in all that is W.Va. -- and the vast majority of my experiences there have been limited to the occasional non-stop, car ride inadvertantly passing through the state, or this, my third annual visit to Wheeling (but really, Oglebay, the oasis in the West Virginia desert, as it were.).

So, Wheeling. The town that time forgot. Indeed, based on my brief encounters with the Wheeling-ians, they all appear to have, collectively, been hotboxing it in someone's car for the last 6 months. That, or they've all been smoking, like 5 packs a day, for like, ever. {and please, as most of you remember my former-smoker status, I don't judge the smoker or the smoke. I judge you because you don't have the sense to at least squirt some Fabreeze in your direction after smoking what seems to be your filter-less Lucky Strikes or other somesuch menthol firestick.}

The weekend was glorious -- a little snow, face-scrunching cold and a very warm fireplace. We ate, we worked out and we pet llamas -- but not in that order. A favorite highlight of the weekend came from my future brother-in-law who may be the most inquisitive person I've ever met. He's interested in everything. And given my new seemingly endless journey into the healthcare profession, I usually end up very engrossed in a conversation about odd diseases that cause one to digest one's own internal organs or some such or just exrcement. While the others were engrossed elsewhere he and I actually sat down and did us some math. What we figured: If you could take all the poop you ever pooped in your life and formed it into regulation bricks and built a wall, single-brick-thick, 2 feet high -- how long would that wall be? He's doing some home-repair these days and has the dimensions of bricks and walls, etc. and what we decided was this -- you probably poop a brick (shit a brick, even) every other day. We feel this accounted for baby-days when you poop your life out to your golden years when pooping may only be a weekly event (questions about geriatric constipation? Ask me!).

That wall? Just about 1700 feet long. In cubic yards, that could fill just about 4 cement trucks. Pretty impressive, huh. Now you're all going to look at your poop calculating your bricks. If nothing else, it's a good bar story. {So this girl I used to know calculated how long a wall made out of your own poop would be...} It's a conversation starter.

As if returning from a nice little vacation isn't a downer enough, I was propelled right into exams. So far, so good. Today, however, was the most dreaded. Most nursing schools have gotten on board with this new "exit exam" of sorts. Your performance on this exam can predict a student's future success on the nursing state board exam withing 98% accuracy. If you didn't today pass the certain benchmark score, you'd be banished to a remidal test-taking class next semester to hone your question and answer skills. I'm pleased to report that I passed -- and with a decent amount of breathing room from the dreaded benchmark.

One of my test questions was: "A client has been diagnosed with epididymitis (which is an infection in the testicle) which has been colonized by E. Coli (which is pretty much only ever sent with love from the butt). You will instruct this client to:...." I wish I could tell you I was kidding when the answer was (and I got it right, but not without some odd facial expressions and mental images) "avoid the penis coming in contact with the rectal area." A fellow classmate remarked after the test, "Wow, I mean, wow. I'd ask if he had a brother."

Yesterday I was able to score a ticket to see Hardball with Chris Matthews being taped at George Mason University on the Hardball College Tour. Why George Mason? Not a clue. I suppose even Hardball has to slum it sometimes, right? In any case, his guests, who I sat a mere 25 feet from, were Robert DeNiro and Matt Damon promoting their new movie "The Good Shepard". It was an uneventful interview -- I spent most of it staring with wide-eyed imagination at Chris Matthews (who is the picture next to "Awesome" in the dictionary). I gleaned special satisfaction from having the stage director get the whole auditorium to shout, "Let's play HARDBALL!" The show they taped will air this Monday, 12/18, at 7PM on MSNBC. If you want to watch it like my mom squinting and pausing to make sure you can see me, I was sitting in the crowd, about 4 rows back, just next to the band. The big tubas that say "G" "M" "U" -- I was near the "U" in a green shirt. I think they were filming me at one point so I made an effort to not chomp my gum and instead to make pensive, thoughtful faces. Which means I'll look like a tool. I was hoping to get in on the question and answer, but decided that if all I had to say was, "Uh, Mr. DeNiro.. No questions, but could you just quote something from "The Untouchables" or yell at me like "Casino"?" I was better off not saying anything. The highlight was not when they kept us all in the auditorium after the show so that they could whisk DeNiro and (an unimpressive Damon) out of the building without incident, but more when I rushed the stage to meet Chris Matthews. I touched his arm, whispered my "I love your show, it's such a pleasure" sweet nothings to him and had him sign my ticket. I can't even be sure we actually made eye contact.

Phew, it's been a big week. I have a poop wall, all my Christmas presents wrapped, Chris Matthews' autograph (and probably his undying love, right?) and a passed nursing exam. How was your week?

P.S. We'll be the best of friends if you got the title's reference.