Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I cannot express how awe-inspiring that Barbie was, people. Glow-in-the-dark STARS with a matching PARASOL. I think that says it all.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
I mean, this one time in high school, I watched in a SINGLE SITTING, the entire trashtastic 5-hour miniseries Lace (1984) starring Phoebe Cates. The plot goes something like this: Abandoned as a child, Lili Lace first works in a labor camp, eventually prostituting herself on the streets of Paris before becoming a soft-core porn actress and finally transforming herself into a real actress making big money so she can find the three women who might be her long lost mom, gather them all in a room and say, "Which one of you bitches is my mother?" Other highlights of the series include, but are not limited to, blackmailing a school headmaster having a secret affair with his chauffer, possible incest between Lili and someone who could be her half brother, and cinematography involving a Swiss chateau. I mean, I don't even know how you can go wrong with that. LOOK at that promotional picture coupled with my synopsis and TELL me you're not interested in seeing it. No one has to know. It's called Netflix.
...Whatever. I don't believe you, and also, I don't actually appreciate your tone...
ANYWAY, those were a couple of MY guilty pleasure triumphs, so hopefully someone will comment with some of his or her own (and by 'someone' I mean YOU, Recycled Art Girl).
Friday, August 15, 2008
Don't be JEALOUS, E, but... they found Bigfoot in the woods in North GEORGIA. I mean, apparently, he's dead, but still. Don't feel bad. We can't ALL BE from Bigfoot's home state, E. The best thing for you to do would be to try and accept this with that quiet dignity which most becomes you.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
So, I would just like to take this opportunity to welcome you back to the salon after your ORDEAL, Correspondent E! I know you readers probably think that is plucky muckraker Nellie Bly in that picture to the right, but once again, you'd be mistaken. 'Tis stalwart Correspondent E, using her great beauty and staggering genius to expose doctors who don't know how to use x-ray machines and stick pins in people for no reason. It's like Ten Days in a Madhouse 2008.
Although...I feel like I might not MIND having an extra pin stuck in me if my doctor looked like Hugh Laurie. I bet I wouldn't even need anesthesia--I could just get lost in his eyes. I know, I know, E, I'M the one who is all OMG HUGH LAURIE and not you, but I'm just SAYING. ...I don't know how this post ended up being about me and Hugh Laurie. I'm SORRY, E. Well, at least give me some credit for not posting a gratuitous House picture.
Still, once again, dear E, welcome back!
Here’s a funny story.
Yesterday, I had surgery on my foot to stick a pin in my toe and pull a pretty badly fractured bone together. I had to go under stupid general anesthesia for the whole thing and spend the better part of the day at the hospital getting prepped, sliced and diced, and then recovering.
Right before the nurses finally wheeled me out to my mom’s car, I asked if someone would go over my discharge information with me, since I hadn’t seen the doctor post-op and I wasn’t sure if he had spoken to my mom (who came up for the weekend to help out). No, no, the nurses assured me, since I am an adult, the doctor will speak to me, not my mom (you know, HIPAA).
The doctor never spoke to me. Fortunately, the nurses were wrong about him not talking to my mom; if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t know how the surgery went.
And I wouldn’t know this funny little piece of information (and by funny, I mean absolutely ridiculous and irritating). Apparently, somehow in the past week, my bone had magically healed itself and no pin was necessary. Which means yesterday, I had my toe peeled apart like a banana for FUN TIMES at the local Hospital for Sadism.
At least I have the comforting knowledge that some med student perhaps had the opportunity to watch and learn why x-ray machines are our friends. And could maybe be used before (and in my case instead of) opening up a body part to see the bone directly.
Yours (in a clunky shoe, whilst hobbling around on crutches on a foot that positively hates me right now),
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Remember a couple of months ago when I was crossing a street, and I was hit by a truck? I do. Well, I mean, I remember waking up in ICU afterwards and the doctors telling me right before they wheeled me off for something like the fifth CAT scan of my brain. Anyway, this whole recovery process has been a bit of a journey, and one day I realized I shouldn’t be hoarding all the valuable, character-enhancing lessons about life I’m accumulating. No, indeed—I should share the wealth.
Consider these my postcards to you, sent back from my travels through the wonderful world of convalescence. On one side are pictures of pretty things in exotic locales, and on the other? Pearls of a salonniere’s wisdom.
Today’s gem? Things you shouldn't say to someone who was just hit by a truck (and why):
1) Any variation on: "Guess you'll remember to look both ways before crossing the street next time!"
(You know what? Sometimes you do everything you're supposed to, and you still get hit by a driver who didn't hold up his end of the social contract and follow the traffic rules. So let’s give me a little credit there. And since I almost died, why don’t you hold off and let me make the first joke before assuming it's okay and you can be an ass-clown? Thanks for that.)
2) "You know what? I was in a car accident last week myself! I hit a parked car while driving."
(As much as I appreciate the attempt, I really don't want to bond with anyone over car accidents.)
3) "How did you hurt your feet if you were hit by a car? Are you sure that was from the accident?"
(All I know is, I didn't have any problems with my feet before I woke up in ICU. So unless the paramedics took turns smashing my toes in the ambulance, I'm going to have to believe it IS from the accident.)
4) "Do you feel better today?"
(Um, you do know this isn’t a cold, right? It’s probably going to be a long process before the head injuries get better, so I’ll probably just feel terrible for awhile. But thanks for checking in.)
5) "How did you survive?"
6) "Now you need to remember to live each day to the fullest."
(Thanks—you are SO right! I totally hadn't considered that and really needed the extra outside pressure and guilt. Heaven forbid I just appreciate being alive right now.)