It's been awhile. I have been trying desperately to keep all posi-core, but all kinds of bullshit went down. I didn't want to update with all kinds of bad news, so I just avoided the whole mess. Shockingly, it didn't help fix much of anything.
I'm not entirely sure where I left off, but..
I managed to have an abscess on my nipple the size of a golfball. Apparently one of my nipple piercings penetrated the duct in my breast, allowing the duct to fill up with pus. The part that annoys me most about this, is that the piercing was some 8 years old. So I took out all the nipple piercings. And now I think my tits look stupid. To fix all of this, the doctor took something mean and sharp and drained the whole mess. From there, I found a fabulous Greek surgeon with a thick accent and a twisted sense of humor. He decided that the first incision wasn't nearly large enough. So he went and sliced into me even further. While he was cutting, I was cursing his entire family and livelihood. He had me laughing so hard with his silly Greek-isms. Oh my. From there I was told to pack the wound every day. If you've never had to pack your own wound, it's yucky. I don't like looking at the inside of my flesh. So now along with the lack of piercings, I've got a goofy looking mess of a wolverine scar. Boo. Thankfully no one ever sees my boobs, so it's not a real issue.
To add to the boob issues, my boobs have still been leaking white stuff. Not much at all, and not often at all, but I'm still pretty sure they're not supposed to do that! I thought it was pus. It hasn't been a lot that has leaked, so that's good. My fabulous Greek surgeon thinks that it may very well breast milk. I'd like to mention now that I've been celibate for about 9 months now, and I'm on more birth control than Jesus. Though if it were up to me the jerk over at the vet's office would've taken my ovaries when they took the cats'. So I'm definitely not knocked up. Apparently there's some hormone, prolactin, that can be thrown out of whack and cause production of breast milk even if you're not preggers. It turns out it wasn't that either. I had an ultrasound done on my boob, and there weren't any pockets of ick, so I guess that's good. But then where the fuck is the leaky junk coming from? This has got to be proof that I'm actually a robot.
I started having stomach issues a bit ago. I couldn't poo for like 3 months. I ended up gaining some 30 pounds. Every time I ate I felt super sick. I was having problems breathing. My body was rejecting all my others meds. It was all tres frustrating. After a shit ton of tests, my doctor decided that I'm rocking gastroparesis. This pretty much means that my stomach doesn't really empty out quick enough. It's made worse by fiber-rich foods. Many vegetables are on the list of things that will make me a very sad banana. It's terribly frustrating as my diet is mostly comprised of veggies. It's a big bunch of no fun. But, now that I know I can kinda work around it a bit better. I've lost about 15 of the 30 pounds I gained, but it still makes me super sad every time I see a mirror or a pair of pants that don't fit properly.
I broke my wrist.. Bowling. I'm not fucking kidding. I was sober as a biscuit. I have witnesses. And. I didn't hit any pins. I was the first to go, so no one else got to bowl. We were in the ghetto and I was pretty sure I was going to be shanked or something. I kept an eye out for people filing down plastic cutlery. All things considered, I'd say I made out pretty well. Though, the douchebubble who worked at the bowling alley offered me a shot of whiskey and some ice. I got the ice but no whiskey. I broke the two big bones. I ended up with two pins in the one bone. The doctor trained in Bolivia on clams or something. I don't know. I'm still not sure that he was a doctor in the traditional sense of the word. I'm pretty sure I could have bought an AK47 in the room next to the one they did x-rays in. Nevertheless, that was half the reason I didn't update. I'm knee deep in a research paper, so all my typing has gone toward that. So after the break and the emergency room and the surgery that wrist had been broken (in setting and such) 3 fucking times. I had a big misshapen cast on for six and a half weeks. Thanks to the humidity the disgusting thing weighed a ton. I ruined my summer... Bowling.
I got the cast off today. My arm still looks super mangled. But at least I can wash it now! So now I'm looking to pack an entire summer into the next two weeks! I'm taking any and all suggestions. So far I've got plans to go to the beach, go tubing, go to the aquarium, go start a few fist fights, etc. What would you do? I've been having my own private pantsless dance party all day. I've been listening to crazy poppy nonsense. It's painfully fun! It's so nice to have an arm back--even if it does look like an icky Gandhi arm! So once again, I'm a pretty happy banana! I think I'm going to take my arm out for drinks tonight!
My birthday is coming up soon. I will officially be fucking ancient. You know, that age that no one growing up on punk rock should ever survive to see. I told my father that I was going to comprise a bucket list. Dad says I'm still too young for that. Apparently instead I should make a sand pail list. I'm down. I don't have much on my list that I'm willing to publish--see The Wizard of Oz, con Yale Law into taking me, jump out of a perfectly good mode of transportation--I'd like to aim for a plane, but at this rate I may have to settle for a slow moving van or something, make out with a cop, etc. I'm not terribly good at these lists. It may be because I'm far too easily amused.. Though my dear friend's gay landlord has offered to go fishing for cops with me. He thinks I need to fall over in a parking lot and wait for the cop to help me up. Apparently from there I'm to pull the cop down with me. You know, cause spooning with a cop in a parking lot is totally hot! Her landlord has decided to fall with me so that we can figure out the sexuality of the cop more discreetly than his original plan of asking. My friend and her boyfriend then offered to get in loud public fights to get the attention of these hypothetical cops. I find it just charming that my friends think that's all it takes. I keep telling them that boys don't like me, but they're not trying to hear it. I guess it's not all true. I did have a boy hump my cast the other day before asking for my number. If that's not everything I've always wanted in a stalker, than I don't know what is! Nevertheless, I think I'm going to start carrying donuts with me.. And a fishing pole. That'll totally catch me a cop! I tried to flirt with one at court. It didn't work so well. Apparently, "Do you come here often?" when the cop is trying to get you on speeding charges is not a good way to go. Noted.
I'd like to note that my cop fetish has really nothing to do with anything outside the awesome tool belt. I don't particularly care who the cop is. In fact, I'd probably prefer not to know. They're like big Rorschach pictures! All I see is uniform and fun toys. They're like Malibu Ken! All the toys, oh my! And violent alcoholics? Holy hell! I need flood insurance for my panties!
In other news, I learned very well recently the difference between alcohol based sprays and petroleum based sprays. WD40, for instance, is not alcohol based. I accidentally (and I use that word as liberally as possible) set a barback on fire. I thought the WD40 would just burn right off. I was wrong. It burnt through the 3 pairs of pants he was wearing. In my defense, he was still in to me afterward. Yay for boys with persistent self esteem issues! I am the worst possible person to have around in any emergency that isn't water based. The poor kid was a whole lot on fire and my dumb ass was trying to hit it with a sock. Oops. I did that before at the bar where I used to work. I accidentally (there's that word again..) set the bar on fire with Rumplemintz. I tried to hit it with a bar mop or something. I neglected to see the soda gun in front of me. I'm charming, really.
A week later I accidentally hit a kid in the nuts with a hammer. He too had persistent self esteem issues. I really cannot, for the life of me, understand why I don't rock a black eye way more often. I would have totally beaten the shit out of me for doing that. Instead the kid's band dedicated a song at their next show to me. Weirdos.
I spent the bulk of the summer working in a criminal defense office. I had a blast! It totally satisfied all my creepy little needs. I've always wanted to do autopsy work, but bodily fluids creep me out. So instead I got to look at all the medical examiner's pictures and research all of the involved people's lives. People are pretty fucked up. I heart it! I spent my time researching two capital murder trials. I got to see a rape trial (it was statutory, I'm not a total jerk) where the defense attorney was making jokes about herpes and such. I was trying so hard not to laugh. I was convinced that I'd ruin whatever glimmer of a legal career before I even had one!
Check the huge ass pins! They were like a ten gage and a million inches long. Seriously. I didn't watch them come out, but the bent part that was sticking out of the skin was about an inch long...
Fuck this noise.
Free! And it's still in the wrong shape!
All that added weight. It looks way better in dim lighting. I haven't been caught in bright or white lighting for months now!
Law office face.
I told my mom that I think I have fetal alcohol syndrome. She said no. I told her to prove it. That's about when the conversation ended....
That's a man with a large cross on wheels. Walking through one of the most dangerous neighborhoods around. I can't tell if that was the single smartest thing I'd ever seen or the dumbest. The jury is still out.
So that's about it for now. What should I do for my super funtastic summer? What needs to go on my sand pail list?
I'm not entirely sure where I left off, but..
I managed to have an abscess on my nipple the size of a golfball. Apparently one of my nipple piercings penetrated the duct in my breast, allowing the duct to fill up with pus. The part that annoys me most about this, is that the piercing was some 8 years old. So I took out all the nipple piercings. And now I think my tits look stupid. To fix all of this, the doctor took something mean and sharp and drained the whole mess. From there, I found a fabulous Greek surgeon with a thick accent and a twisted sense of humor. He decided that the first incision wasn't nearly large enough. So he went and sliced into me even further. While he was cutting, I was cursing his entire family and livelihood. He had me laughing so hard with his silly Greek-isms. Oh my. From there I was told to pack the wound every day. If you've never had to pack your own wound, it's yucky. I don't like looking at the inside of my flesh. So now along with the lack of piercings, I've got a goofy looking mess of a wolverine scar. Boo. Thankfully no one ever sees my boobs, so it's not a real issue.
To add to the boob issues, my boobs have still been leaking white stuff. Not much at all, and not often at all, but I'm still pretty sure they're not supposed to do that! I thought it was pus. It hasn't been a lot that has leaked, so that's good. My fabulous Greek surgeon thinks that it may very well breast milk. I'd like to mention now that I've been celibate for about 9 months now, and I'm on more birth control than Jesus. Though if it were up to me the jerk over at the vet's office would've taken my ovaries when they took the cats'. So I'm definitely not knocked up. Apparently there's some hormone, prolactin, that can be thrown out of whack and cause production of breast milk even if you're not preggers. It turns out it wasn't that either. I had an ultrasound done on my boob, and there weren't any pockets of ick, so I guess that's good. But then where the fuck is the leaky junk coming from? This has got to be proof that I'm actually a robot.
I started having stomach issues a bit ago. I couldn't poo for like 3 months. I ended up gaining some 30 pounds. Every time I ate I felt super sick. I was having problems breathing. My body was rejecting all my others meds. It was all tres frustrating. After a shit ton of tests, my doctor decided that I'm rocking gastroparesis. This pretty much means that my stomach doesn't really empty out quick enough. It's made worse by fiber-rich foods. Many vegetables are on the list of things that will make me a very sad banana. It's terribly frustrating as my diet is mostly comprised of veggies. It's a big bunch of no fun. But, now that I know I can kinda work around it a bit better. I've lost about 15 of the 30 pounds I gained, but it still makes me super sad every time I see a mirror or a pair of pants that don't fit properly.
I broke my wrist.. Bowling. I'm not fucking kidding. I was sober as a biscuit. I have witnesses. And. I didn't hit any pins. I was the first to go, so no one else got to bowl. We were in the ghetto and I was pretty sure I was going to be shanked or something. I kept an eye out for people filing down plastic cutlery. All things considered, I'd say I made out pretty well. Though, the douchebubble who worked at the bowling alley offered me a shot of whiskey and some ice. I got the ice but no whiskey. I broke the two big bones. I ended up with two pins in the one bone. The doctor trained in Bolivia on clams or something. I don't know. I'm still not sure that he was a doctor in the traditional sense of the word. I'm pretty sure I could have bought an AK47 in the room next to the one they did x-rays in. Nevertheless, that was half the reason I didn't update. I'm knee deep in a research paper, so all my typing has gone toward that. So after the break and the emergency room and the surgery that wrist had been broken (in setting and such) 3 fucking times. I had a big misshapen cast on for six and a half weeks. Thanks to the humidity the disgusting thing weighed a ton. I ruined my summer... Bowling.
I got the cast off today. My arm still looks super mangled. But at least I can wash it now! So now I'm looking to pack an entire summer into the next two weeks! I'm taking any and all suggestions. So far I've got plans to go to the beach, go tubing, go to the aquarium, go start a few fist fights, etc. What would you do? I've been having my own private pantsless dance party all day. I've been listening to crazy poppy nonsense. It's painfully fun! It's so nice to have an arm back--even if it does look like an icky Gandhi arm! So once again, I'm a pretty happy banana! I think I'm going to take my arm out for drinks tonight!
My birthday is coming up soon. I will officially be fucking ancient. You know, that age that no one growing up on punk rock should ever survive to see. I told my father that I was going to comprise a bucket list. Dad says I'm still too young for that. Apparently instead I should make a sand pail list. I'm down. I don't have much on my list that I'm willing to publish--see The Wizard of Oz, con Yale Law into taking me, jump out of a perfectly good mode of transportation--I'd like to aim for a plane, but at this rate I may have to settle for a slow moving van or something, make out with a cop, etc. I'm not terribly good at these lists. It may be because I'm far too easily amused.. Though my dear friend's gay landlord has offered to go fishing for cops with me. He thinks I need to fall over in a parking lot and wait for the cop to help me up. Apparently from there I'm to pull the cop down with me. You know, cause spooning with a cop in a parking lot is totally hot! Her landlord has decided to fall with me so that we can figure out the sexuality of the cop more discreetly than his original plan of asking. My friend and her boyfriend then offered to get in loud public fights to get the attention of these hypothetical cops. I find it just charming that my friends think that's all it takes. I keep telling them that boys don't like me, but they're not trying to hear it. I guess it's not all true. I did have a boy hump my cast the other day before asking for my number. If that's not everything I've always wanted in a stalker, than I don't know what is! Nevertheless, I think I'm going to start carrying donuts with me.. And a fishing pole. That'll totally catch me a cop! I tried to flirt with one at court. It didn't work so well. Apparently, "Do you come here often?" when the cop is trying to get you on speeding charges is not a good way to go. Noted.
I'd like to note that my cop fetish has really nothing to do with anything outside the awesome tool belt. I don't particularly care who the cop is. In fact, I'd probably prefer not to know. They're like big Rorschach pictures! All I see is uniform and fun toys. They're like Malibu Ken! All the toys, oh my! And violent alcoholics? Holy hell! I need flood insurance for my panties!
In other news, I learned very well recently the difference between alcohol based sprays and petroleum based sprays. WD40, for instance, is not alcohol based. I accidentally (and I use that word as liberally as possible) set a barback on fire. I thought the WD40 would just burn right off. I was wrong. It burnt through the 3 pairs of pants he was wearing. In my defense, he was still in to me afterward. Yay for boys with persistent self esteem issues! I am the worst possible person to have around in any emergency that isn't water based. The poor kid was a whole lot on fire and my dumb ass was trying to hit it with a sock. Oops. I did that before at the bar where I used to work. I accidentally (there's that word again..) set the bar on fire with Rumplemintz. I tried to hit it with a bar mop or something. I neglected to see the soda gun in front of me. I'm charming, really.
A week later I accidentally hit a kid in the nuts with a hammer. He too had persistent self esteem issues. I really cannot, for the life of me, understand why I don't rock a black eye way more often. I would have totally beaten the shit out of me for doing that. Instead the kid's band dedicated a song at their next show to me. Weirdos.
I spent the bulk of the summer working in a criminal defense office. I had a blast! It totally satisfied all my creepy little needs. I've always wanted to do autopsy work, but bodily fluids creep me out. So instead I got to look at all the medical examiner's pictures and research all of the involved people's lives. People are pretty fucked up. I heart it! I spent my time researching two capital murder trials. I got to see a rape trial (it was statutory, I'm not a total jerk) where the defense attorney was making jokes about herpes and such. I was trying so hard not to laugh. I was convinced that I'd ruin whatever glimmer of a legal career before I even had one!
Check the huge ass pins! They were like a ten gage and a million inches long. Seriously. I didn't watch them come out, but the bent part that was sticking out of the skin was about an inch long...
Fuck this noise.
Free! And it's still in the wrong shape!
All that added weight. It looks way better in dim lighting. I haven't been caught in bright or white lighting for months now!
Law office face.
I told my mom that I think I have fetal alcohol syndrome. She said no. I told her to prove it. That's about when the conversation ended....
That's a man with a large cross on wheels. Walking through one of the most dangerous neighborhoods around. I can't tell if that was the single smartest thing I'd ever seen or the dumbest. The jury is still out.
So that's about it for now. What should I do for my super funtastic summer? What needs to go on my sand pail list?
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
bloodjunkie856:
Well, it's not like I followed the Doctors orders in any meaningful way (cut off the cast after 2 days ect...) but on those rare occasions when I needed the crutches they were a pain in the ass so it was certainly nice not to need them. Yeah I only had the bike running for a couple of months. It's ok though because I've got my heel back and I've got a line on an even cheaper and nicer (aesthetically at least) old early '80s Honda. Can't wait to get her running.
drrn:
I had a breast abscess when I was a kid. It sucked hardcore.