2005-01-21
I'm hungover, but "the girls" are A-okay
I have many things to report due to the down time yesterday. Thank you Andrew for doing the Noah Wylie thing and breathing life back into DL, you are a HERO and we love you, and it's really OKAY that I can't read my comments because the only people who comment also email me, so it's okay. Really. I am not upset at all. Really. I don't even NEED comments.
Lesseee....
************* Shhhhhhhhh... I don't feel so good.... *********************
Okay, first and foremost, I am as hungover as a goat. (I don't know why goats get bad hangovers, but they do. Perhaps it's because they eat so many different things... kind of like drinking a bunch of different things....) So those of you who don't drink at all, or who DO drink but are not hungover today, revel in your sobriety/non-hungover-d-ness and do something to celebrate -- but please -- quietly.... shhhhhhhh.... like rubbing my feet. That would be the best way to celebrate don't you think? mmmmmm-hmmmmm, *I* do, too.
I went out with my friend Serena* last night and it appears I had a weeeeee bit too much of the bubbly and not enough ballast. I have vague memories of rocking down with her three sons (10, 13, and 15**), all of whom are incredibly talented musicians, or at least they were last night after 4 Screwdrivers and 1/2 bottle of Chianti (ffffffff-ffffff--fffffff Hello Clarice...) Hell, anyone who even knows how to HOLD a guitar is a musician to me, but these kids -- including Serena, (who did a beautiful rendition of (insert name of the song originally done by Fleetwood Mac, recently re-done by The Dixie "We Hate Bush" Chicks))-- know how to PLAY the guitar. And sing. And play drums. I was jammin', hell yes. Picture a 45-year old, totally fashion-challenged, hammered chick wiggling her ass and clicking her fingers as 3 horrified teenagers look on... Quite the visual, eh?
*Name changed to protect her ... well, certainly not her INNOCENCE (wink,wink, nudge,nudge Serena), but I like "Serena" because it seems to fit. I am going to write an entry about her someday, because she reminds me of a combination of all the wonderful chicklettes I have met here(RHI (yes, I put you FIRST, you needy, lucious little wench, you!), Sundry, Kristin, Beth, Anisette, WCG, Lisa, just to name a few). (I would do links for all of you but I'm quite sure I killed any HTML-literate brain cells that i might have been developing last night). Besides, she's a fascinating person, unlike MOI.
**Is it okay -- I mean, be honest with me, here, if I kinda lust after a 15-year old? I mean, not right NOW, of course, because that WOULD be wrong, I mean, REALLY (you weren't thinking THAT, were you? shame on you), anyway, what I'm really hot for is the totally friggin' SMOKING HOT 23 year old I know he will be in (doing math) 8 years? That's okay, right? I mean you pervy men were just WAITING for the Olsen twins to become "legal", right? (Serena, I promise I will not touch him. okay? Promise. Not for at LEAST 8 years. 7 at the VERY earliest.)
*********************** Dorothy Takes a Break **************************
Today is "skating day" when all of my staff and I bundle up and go to the local skating rink for an hour of fun, exercise, and wind burn. I spend an inordinate amount of time huffing and puffing and spinning and twirling and trying to do things like triple-sawkow toe-loop flying-camels, wondering if my hair looks as cool as Dorothy Hammel's did when she would spin around (I guess I would have to actually SPIN, *vertically* for more than 1/2 turn, to have this happen). I'm covering the console today because I had that medical thing this morning (more on that later -- short version: I'm fine), and thought I might be later than I was.
I have the "Vogue (vogue vogue vogue)" headphones on, but I struggle with the correct way to wear them. They are of the brand which has the little speaker thing that looks like the thing the dentist uses to suck the water/schpoo/spit out of your mouth, one earphone, and then this other non-earphone thingie that grasps the side of your head in an annoying, "I'm not quite sure where this goes" kind of way.
I mean, does it go above the ear? IN it (surely not -- I mean, gross)? Below it? And about this head gear -- it is the standard expandable headband version which reeks HAVOC on the 'do. If worn for too long one develops "Headphone Head" which we all know is a cardinal style sin.
******************** I might hurl **********************
The wastbasket is right at my feet... in case I need it.... (By the way, Judd, I tried to find that fabulous entry you did when you came into work so hungover you thought you would hurl and had to go home, but I couldn't -- so if you have like 2,000 hits tonight that was me -- where IS that entry, anyway -- I was going to link it because it described perfectly how I feel.) So yeah, in case I need it. The problem with living in a cube farm is that if you blow chunks into your wastebasket chances are someone else might know (a-hem). And because I am not a barfer really at ALL (another entry) I am very loud and unhappy about it when I do hurl. So let's all collectively do a "No Barfy For Babzy" dance around the campfire.
***** Boobie(Yes, Pat, BOOBS, but don't get too excited cuz it's medical) Report ******
Okay, so the second mammogram was this morning and I'm fine. They want me back in 4 months to "monitor" this "thing", which looked to me like someone had spit on the x-ray. By the way, I was QUITE impressed with how the girls look on an x-ray! I even told the technician that I thought they looked "quite perky and 20-something-ish" and "could I have a copy?".
Speaking of "squashing"... I may have to take some of what I said about women being sissies about maammograms back.
Your annual mammogram is something akin to, oh, say, a quick look-see. Although uncomforable, your boob is smashed between two pieces of plexiglass the size of dinner plates.
However, if they find something and you have to go back, they get out the Good China, as it were. I had 8 more x-rays, each with increasingly smaller plates of plexiglass because, of course, they want to get the best picture they can of "the thing" which is the approximate size of "the head of a pin".
The last x-ray, I swear to God, was like... well, ladies, take two pencils. Place one underNEATH your left breast, about 3 inches to the left of your nipple, place the second pencil on TOP of your breast at the exact same place, now gently, but firmly, press until you can feel the two erasers MEET in the middle of your breast.
Kinda pinchy, eh?
Yes. Pinchy indeed.
I was very good, though, as Kathy My Breast Technician was impressed with my ability to put up with "the entire squash" -- she kept saying "Now YOU tell me when it's enough" (as sheis pressing the peddle, drawing the eraser heads closer and closer together), and my response was "Just do what you gotta do, Kathy honey. Make pancakes out of 'em if you have to, cuz I sure don't want to have to do this again."
So anywayz. Seems that I'm fine. Well, my breasts are.
Now. About that liver....
Boozy-Babz
P.S. I love it when I mess up an html reference and then my entire entry is linked to Andrew's webpage!!! Yep, them HTML braincells are HISTORY!
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xquzme at sometime today