Monday, July 13, 2009

Reason #692 Why Bothering Me Today is a Poor Choice

So, if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you may have heard about my recent trip to the ER. And by ER, I mean Emergency Room. In the hospital. Because injuries had occurred.

Long story short, I was being carried (at a rapid pace) and, well, we fall down go boom. In other words, my SKULL HIT ASPHALT causing me to begin sobbing and babbling (barely coherently) about how I was going to DIE LIKE BILLY MAYS!

And Corey was all, "Shut up! Billy Mays died from congestive heart failure! Now follow my goddamn finger!"

I then moved on to the Natasha Richardson and Sonny Bono arguments.

Anyway, he then drove my car to my aunt's house and she drove us to meet my mom the Emergency Room where I made friends with my faaaaabuloussssssssssssssss male nurse and the adorable x-ray technician who must've been 26 at the very oldest and was all excited to see me because I was young.

And then she was all, "Any chance you're pregnant?"

And I was all, "Not that I know of!"

And she was all, "OMG, do you want a preg test?!"

And then I assured her that I was kidding.

To summarize, I learned I was not concussed and not going to die and they gave me an ice pack which resulted in this sexy picture (encouraged by my mom and aunt) in which you can totally tell that I had hysterically cried all of my makeup off and also that it was at least 2AM:
Also, that ice pack is made to be tied around a leg. Not a head.

So yeah, my boyfriend then goes MIA ever since (except for one fight we had over the phone yesterday about him removing my picture from his Myspace and replacing it with some porn chick chewing on handcuffs because it "matches [his] layout" which is apparently cop themed because is includes a picture of a gun and a promo for Southland. Ass.) and when I finally get a hold of him, I am crying because I am fat and bloated and hormonal and crampy and PMSing and had to go into work even though I had planned not to because oh, I dunno I HAVE HEAD TRAUMA and I COULDN'T GET A HOLD OF HIM, WHYYYYYYYYY?

And we talk for a while (Well, he talks. I blubber.) and then he says, "I'm gonna go to the gym. I'll call you when I get back in an hour. I love you. Stop crying."

And I'm all, "Motherfucker, don't you tell me not to cry! I have a lump on my head the size and shape of a golf ball, had a terrible day at work and YOU DON'T LOVE ME ENOUGH!"

Speaking of working...

If you didn't know, I am a slave to obsessions. I go through phases where things, or foods, or songs become the reason that I am alive.

For example, the year or so where I discovered a new appreciation for Simon & Garfunkel as well as Paul Simon as a solo artist. I tried to get everyone in my newspaper class to call me Al. And then I named my bettas Simon and Garfunkel.

Where was I, now?

Oh yes, obsessions. So when you work in an office as I do, for extremely long periods of time (say, 10 hours a day, for example), you become obsessed with the outside world. Windows are much more exciting than normal.

If I'm at home and someone points out a window, it's like, "Okay. Yeah, that's a window. La-de-fricken-da."

But at work? Oh. My. God. It's like I could stare forever.

Who are those people? Oh. Gardners? Amazing.

Is that a bird? Oh my God, it's flying! Have you ever seen a bird do that?!

The Weather is another thing that gets you. I check much more than is healthy. I can pinpoint an exact time that rain will begin.

I know I'm not alone because Steve used to refresh the Doppler radar all day.

So, let's recap:

I have a headache which makes me cranky.

I have PMS which is making me into one of those things that used to battle Godzilla.

My boyfriend doesn't love me enough. Worship is mandatory.

Annnnnnnd, weather is my hobby.

So uh, yeah. Don't make me hurt you.


P.S. I am still wearing my hospital bracelets.

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