|
03.08.2002 -
Friday
I can just tell this is going to be one of those excessively
female entries. This entry is currently struggling into a petticoat,
okay? In order not to overwhelm you with estrogen, I'll post
an occasional macho type sentence in blue, to help balance out all this Chick Stuff.
First of all, I'm all out
of sorts because I had a doctor's appointment this morning -
or at least I thought I did, because when I showed up they were
all, hmmmm, hmmmm, well, looks like we got the appointments mixed
up. Sorry.
Not really that big of
a deal, because the office is only 2 blocks away - and hey, it's
not like I had anything better to do. But I had prepared
for this, dammit. When I called to make the appointment, I told
the desk person I just needed 'a regular checkup, it's been a
while.'
"Women's health exam?"
she asked, all perky and brisk.
"Er�ehm. What's that, exactly?"
"Pap smear, breast exam, blah blah blah blah" .
"Yes, well, better put me down for all that." Oh god.
"Sounds great."
(Immediately after the
call: "Sounds great?" What the HELL was that? Who
thinks a pap smear 'sounds great'? I am a hopeless dork.)
So you know, I had spent
the morning steeling myself for the whole humiliating routine
of having someone peering into my girl parts - in unflattering
fluorescent lighting for chrissakes. And the intrusive beak
of the�Horrible Metal Platypus Coochie Opener. Gah.
(Oh, and the completely
helpless retarded giggling that hits you when you get a breast
exam and you're already really embarrassed about, like, everything,
and the doctor sort of feels around in your armpits, god,
and it makes you totally lose it and blare out big trumpeting
elephant brays of laughter and the doctor is all understanding and says
a little ticklish are we? and you nod and try to stop but end
up making some kind of weird SNNNRK! noise that sets you
off all.over.again.)
I found matching underwear
for nothing. NOTHING, dammit.
:::
"Just
a little deuce coupe with a flat head mill
But she'll walk a Thunderbird like it's standin' still
She's ported and relieved and she's stroked and bored.
She'll do a hundred and forty with the top end floored"
:::
Well, I've been Very Good
on my gym routine this week, thanks. I tried out a new class
last night; Tai Chi, taught by the same guy who does the kickboxing
class. So I got to see him in a cute new outfit, like pajamas
almost. Mmm. Mmm. (Hey, I'm married, not blind, ok?) Here's the
thing with Tai Chi. It's all really slow and lots of deep breathing
and it's mellow and relaxing. But. Stand up, and bend your legs
so you're lowered quite a bit. Now walk around like that for
an hour. It's hard.
I wore my new yoga-like
stretchy pants to class. I had to go through a painful inner
argument to work up the nerve to do this.
"Dude. Everyone can
see your butt. Your butt is not a mystery - your butt
is like, 'hi, I'm Sundry's butt and everyone can see me!'
"These pants are LYCRA. It gives me Gym Butt, which is totally
different from, like, Way-Too-Thin-Linen-Pants Butt."
"Seriously, I am telling you. You look like Slutty McFatass."
"Stop. It. These are athletic looking. And my butt
is not that bad, dammit."
"Ooooh, athletic. Look at me, I'm all athletic,
I've got rippling muscles."
"Fuck you. I'm wearing them."
"Fine. Can't wait till you're supposed to be focusing on
flowing energy but you're all 'ooh, is anyone secretly criticizing
my butt?' HA HA."
:::
"A
lot of guys make mistakes, I guess, but every one we make, a
whole stack of chips goes with it. We make a mistake, and some
guy don't walk away - forevermore, he don't walk away."
:::
So with the Mister not
around the house, the cat has gone totally demon seed on me.
Usually she spends the entire day curled up on the coach like
a fat furry potato bug, plotting ways to trip me. Lately she's
been freakishly active, for a sumo cat. I think it's because
I don't give her the food-petting like JB does.
That's when the cat runs
to her food bowl and makes a bunch of really annoying sounds
until you go pet her. Then she gets all purry and starts bolting
her food - in frankly, a really revolting manner. "Snork,
prr, blrt, SNKK, chump, prrrr, golp, prrr, crunch." Bleah.
I don't know why she likes this so much, but apparently it is
an integral part of her day.
So since I've been ignoring
her yowling at the bowl, she's gone nutso. She runs around
the apartment, galompgalompgalomp, stops to dig angrily at the
carpet, stares at me with Beams of Hatred, goes and drinks from
the toilet, gets yelled at, runs to the hallway where we have
some boxes, rips into the cardboard, sprays styrofoam peanuts
everywhere, eats several peanuts, takes a vile Revenge Dump that
fills the living room with eye-watering fumes, runs around some
more. It's driving me crazy.
:::
"It's
not just a sandwich, it's a Manwich."
:::
All right. I'm off to see
The Time Machine. With Guy Pierce. Mmm. Mmm.
go
back :::
forward
recent bleating:
03.07.2002 - I
remember thinking, I didn't have enough time.
03.06.2002 -
It's like diarrhea�or maybe it's like something less disgusting
than that
2002-03-05 - I'm
always the dork wildly pinwheeling their arms and weaving like
a sorority girl at Mardis Gras.
ARTIFACT: Pet me, you fuckwit human.
0
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
|
