Since turning 43 I have been struck by new inquiries into the meaning of life, not all of which can be summed up with "how the fuck did this happen?" Seriously. How did I get here? As I sit alone in my king-sized bed with ice packs on my knees, I wonder what detour caused me to be here. Why icepacks, you may ask? Because I'm all out of Percocet that's why.
Here's a thought...feet are not the most attractive feature on anyone over the age of three, but if you have horny, calloused, clod-hoppers with four out of the five of your toes more hammered than the captain of the Exxon Valdez, perhaps you shouldn't wear flip-flops. Even if you are a guy, that means you have uuuuuugleeeee feet and you need to hide that shit in shame as propriety demands.
My well known fear of general anesthesia was reinforced the other day. We had to do an emergency c-section on a patient and her anesthesia had just been reversed as she started telling me all about her dream. "You were in my dream and you had a gorgeous figure, you were beautiful (okay, I'm on board so far) and all these men were around you, wanting to date you. (Me likee your dreams, sister) One of the gentlemen asked me if you had breast implants. You were driving my boat and we were sailing all over the ocean. DO you have breast implants?" Wow. That's it! I want epidurals for all surgeries from now on. If I have a brain tumor, just let me go.
I finally had confirmation this morning that FB actually has some of my DNA. He was sitting sullenly in the front seat of the planet killer (yes, despite the whole WA state "over 12/over 85lbs/over 4'8"" rule for the front seat, there he sits. He's taller than I am, he weighs almost as much as I do, and he LOOKS older than 12, so I figure that's close enough) and I, being the incredibly obnoxious person I am, cheerily, and loudly, exclaimed, "What a great day! It's so beautiful! Are we all so excited to be here on this gorgeous spring morning?" Mind you, the sun isn't quite up when we leave the house, so I was talking liberties with the whole "gorgeous spring morning" thing. Without even moving his head, FB said, "Mondays are NOT awesome." That's my boy! I concur. Especially since my day started at 0445, running with Knucklehead McSpazatron. The only time I ever want to see 0445 is on my way to bed.
I'm getting my nether regions electrocuted tomorrow, so tonight I pre-gamed for it by clear cutting the remaining foliage. I'm sure there are stranger bedtime rituals than shaving your gittery hoo-hah, but I'd be hard pressed to guess what. Yeah, I know, TMI, but now is hardly the time for me to start being discreet. A few more years and I'll being publicly discussing my bowel habits.
A friend of mine sent me this picture of a redneck boob job. It's NSFW and definitely painful to look at, so it's after the jump
YEEEEEOOOOOWWW! But, at least they're perky. I guess that's an alternate method if I'm not sure about going through with the lift someday. That whole fear of babbling incoherently after anesthesia thing again......
And now, to wash that image out of your mind before bed so you don't wake sweating and sobbing inconsolably, here's a picture of the birthday flowers the Nav's wife (and the Nav too; we'll give him credit where none is probably due) sent me:
Is that not the cutest damn thing?
By the way, today would have been my Grandma's 83rd birthday. Miss ya Audrey Lucille!