Holes

Whenever I have some kind of physical issue I just wish I didn't have whatever body part is causing the ruckus. Like when my nose stuffs up I have all these daydreams about just popping it off like a Mr. Potato Head until it chills out and stops making my life miserable.

But, now, what should I fantasize about? The pain all over my face was caused by the removal of the problem. Day dream about shoving the four teeth back in?

Things...are not so good right now. So, I'll make a list to ease my troubled nerves.

New Year's Resolutions
-drink less coffee
-stop specifying people's age, race, sex, sexuality, or culture unless it specifically correlates to the point of discussion (for example I want to start saying, "the woman next to me on the airplane" instead of "the old black woman next to me on the airplane")

My Brush with Insanity (Post-Surgery Blues)

waiting for my last crepe in Paris 2009

When I found out I was being hooked up to an IV pre-surgery I laughed and laughed. The anxiety of an IV just hit me right in the funny bone. A month later (yesterday) I found myself giggling like mad again as I changed into my hospital gown. Then things were getting black and I could hear me laughing before feeling the sudden needle prick, and I burst into tears.

Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark. I can't see anything. My cheeks hurt and are very cold. Eggs are filling my mouth.

This was actually a few hours after the surgery. I don't remember waking up or leaving the office or a darn thing even though apparently I was talking to my dad and sister and fully able to walk to the car myself. I apparently demanded to watch Third Rock from the Sun and accepted to eat some egg. But, as I said previously, all I was conscious of is someone cramming egg into my mouth.

An hour or so later I woke up to Back to the Future. From that point on I thought I was my old self again--even with the gauze in. Uh. No. I actually didn't regain non-crazy form until around 10 PM.

Things that Happened (when I thought I was fine but actually I was still on the bus to wacko-land):

-whined to no end about the gauze in my mouth but also demanded my sister take pictures
-in a panic asked, "why is my lip...so close to my lip?"
-tried to drink some salt water, but it dribbled out onto my crotch, so when my sister returned I announced sadly, "I peed."
-drooled all over
-had at least three conversations about the same four topics with absolutely no recollection of it: wanting to watch Sex and the City DVDs and being heartbroken when Pookie said she didn't bring them, asking about why the ice packs on my face were so cold, my astonishment of how drugged I must have been to not remember leaving the surgery, and what I was going to do about my broken computer
-speaking of, I USED my computer several times yesterday because every time I woke up I thought I was fine when really I was still cracked out--many IM conversations I do not remember and I'm pretty sure I submitted poetry to a few journals
-went to the bathroom and was so happy I decided to live there, had a laughing attack about my new life in the bathroom with my sister outside the door worrying I was crying
-when I did decide not to live in the bathroom I came out to the couch and sobbed yelling, "It's not even funny! It's from here (pointing to my gut) not from here (pointing to my head)!"

I am never doing hard drugs.

Doin' What You Gotta Do

"I make more money than Calvin...Coolidge...put together!" 2006 Linda, Cosmo, and Don in Singin' in the Rain

Remember when I was blond? Woof city. It was just about four years ago exactly that the awful dye job occurred. Oh, to suffer for art. To jank every healthy chemical out of your hair and leave yourself looking awful for two more years (even after three attempts at bringing the brown back).

I mean just look at that nasty top-dark bottom-gold color I'm trying to rock in this photo of Wall and I New Years 2007.


Really, I didn't care that much. Clearly. I don't have much shame when doing things I need to do. On the Survivor application (post-grad plans here I come!) it asks what you won't do for a milli. I was totally stumped.

Trelly: Wait...but would you...
Me: Yes.
Trelly: Kill someone?
Me: Well...maybe. Oh. Okay. No.
Trelly: So no people or animals?
Me: Animals? No. I'd kill animals.
Wizzy: Why are you so sick?

Sisters on a Hotel Bed

attempts to wake Pookie Spring 2008

Last night Pookie and I stayed too late in the snowy city and ended up spending the night. Pookie bought us some cheap jammies. We passed out sharing a tiny blanket. Ah...nothing like waking up and going to breakfast in the clothes from last night. Wiping your teeth with a wash cloth. As she was slumped in bed whapping away at her beeping cell phone I started to sing "Rise and Shine" and she started to whap at me instead. This is so familiar. The familiarity is even familiar. Waking up and bugging each other like we did on so many vacations. Me criticizing her driving. Going to the movies. Everything we do together is like things before, and that is anything but boring.

What do you do if you're an only child? I guess you get married.

1,2, Punch!

after I thought I ate horse at rotating sushi 2008

I want to be back in my house with Grinz and Yatchface. New addition: Muff.

Secondly, I have gotten to the kick-boxing regiment of my work-out DVDs, and it is too much fun. I really feel like I could win in some fights now. That's because when I watch the trainer I feel like I look like her. This is most probably very untrue. Still, I'm totally diggin' it. 1,2, PUNCH! 1,2, KICK! Yah!

Yes Yes Injustice

Shoot Dang did I have a good trip down south! Saw horses and George W. outside a church. So the thing about Trelly is her dad owns like a hundred horses that they breed for racing. Hella famous horses. We bopped around his ranch and saw them all. It was kinda cool, but I'm not into horses. Whatever, you know.

Meanwhile, there's probably some kid (or adult) who knows about all these horses--like the ones that win things. So unfair. I was right with them sort of waiting around to leave when horse-lovers would be wishing on a star for that experience.

Like musicians' familys that have always heard their cousin bragging and pounding away at the piano. They don't care. Meanwhile, a true fan would just keel over at such a chance. Wouldn't it be nice if the world could just rubix-cube itself to align everyone with their lofty hobbies and dreams?