If you aren't of the Female gender, this post is not for you.

Seriously, if you have the Y chromosome, stop reading this right now. For your own sake.

I was talking to a friend earlier today and UTI's (told you to stop reading) came up and it reminded me of my really awesome first UTI experience. Some people might consider this an overshare, but I think it is pretty funny. Now. At the time, it sucked.

So, I went to a conference in San Jose, CA. It was a 4 day conference - I flew out Sunday night and was flying back Thursday. I was traveling with my boss and 3 other guys. Sunday night at about midnight I woke up because I had to go to the bathroom worse than I'd ever needed to in my life. I didn't think I was going to make it to the bathroom, it was so bad. Made it - went back to bed. Didn't think much of it until about 3 minutes later when, once again, I had to go to the bathroom SOOOO bad. And you know how it goes... massive pressure, nothing really comes out. Having never had a UTI before, I was REALLY confused. I thought maybe things had built up so much that the pressure wouldn't release (don't ask me - I was confused and it was the middle of the night), so I should take a bath. Didn't relieve any pressure - big surprise. Anyway, I won't go into too many details, but I will say that once I observed the blood, I figured there was something more serious than just the intense need to urinate wrong with me, so I busted out the laptop and did a little research. First little gem of information: UTI's require antibiotics - they cannot be cured any other way. Second little gem of information: cranberry juice can relieve the symptons although they don't cure it. Third little gem: citrus and sugar make it worse.

So, here I am in downtown San Jose with absolutely no idea where I can go to get an Rx to cure me. Secondly, the rental car is in my bosses name (he's a man that at that point had been my boss for only a couple months. Last thing I want to do is share that I have a UTI and I need him to drive me to a doctor.)

So, I went down to the hotel bar (which luckily was still open) and asked if they had cranberry juice. The bartender asked what I wanted it mixed with and looked at me really weird when I said I wanted it plain. If he was a woman, he would have known. So, he gives me this small portion of cranberry juice in a really cool cocktail glass - I downed it and asked for another and he started looking at me like I was a crazy lady. But, at that point, I really didn't care - I just wanted to survive the next 4 days without anyone discovering my little secret.

And every restaurant we went to, I'd ask for cranberry juice as my beverage. And, FYI - the majority of restaurants don't have cranberry juice, but they will always offer orange juice instead. And look at you like your crazy when you say, "No thanks, I'll just have water." Cranberry juice or bust.

So, not too much more to say, other than that I probably spent half of each 1.5 hour conference session over the next 4 days in the bathroom. And the conference center had a little convenience store that I completely cleaned out of any drink that contained any mention of "cranberry", "cran", etc. Seriously - my laptop bag was full of the little 8 oz. bottles of fruit juice... I downed at least one every session. I am sure the guys I was with thought something weird was going on.. I was going through a cranberry phase or something.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the conference registration booth was about 10 feet outside the entrance to the bathroom. I wonder how many times you can walk by before a stranger recognizes it is the same lady who keeps going into the bathroom? I bet I became a drinking game - take a swig every time that chick goes into the bathroom again. And I bet the registrars were all rolling drunk. :)

So, I realize this doesn't sound very funny when it is typed. Nor was it funny while I was suffering. But it sure seems funny to me looking back. And, the funniest thing is that I didn't want to tell Corbyn because it was so undignified and gross. I suffered in silence at the time. Now I throw out "UTI", "menstrual", etc. every once in a while just to see him squirm. :)

Great. Brett just joined the ranks of the blog visitors.

For those of you who don't know Brett, he is my smart-aleky brother who fancies himself a comedian. The comments are about to get a lot more interesting. (And by interesting, I mean mean.) :)

Eat dirt!!!

So, one time when I was young (very young - maybe 5 or 6), my dad told me to "Eat Dirt!!!" (His was of saying "No way!") I took him serious and went outside and ate a handful of dirt. I was such an obedient child.

Corbyn absolutely did NOT tell Rhian to eat dirt, but she ate plenty of it this weekend on our Lake Powell trip. It was pretty funny. I'd been making fun of Corbyn because when I went to his motocross race a couple weekends ago, everytime Rhian crawled near the dirt, Corbyn would freak out and be like, "Amy! She's getting in the dirt!!!" and so I was telling everyone we were going to have a prissy daughter and it wasn't going to be my fault. I could tell Corbyn was biting his tongue so hard it was going to scar while watching Rhian crawl around in the dirt and shove handfuls in her mouth... it finally got to be too much for him and he kept saying, "Amy, she is going to be sick. She's eaten way too much dirt." He finally just went and picked her up. It was pretty funny. See her dirt mustache?