A Botched Phlebotomy Is Better...

...than a botched lobotomy I guess. This is the positive spin I'm putting on my shitty visit for my blood letting on Thursday afternoon. So here's how the appointment went:

I arrived five minutes early for my appointment at the cancer center. This is always weird for me. It is technically an oncology/hematology clinic, but cancer center I guess has a nicer ring? 50 minutes later, I approach the innocent receptionist and kindly ask when I might be seen for my blood letting. She says she doesn't know and that they must be running behind. Wrong answer. I did not raise my voice (progress), but did make it clear that if I had the courtesy to arrive on time for my appointment, the least she could do is give me a real answer as to when I might be seen 45 minutes after my appointment time had passed. Damn. She jumped up and went back to check. In the mean time, having read every other bit of Popular Mechanics, here is what I learned from the back cover:

1. This is the 75th anniversary of Skoal "smokeless tobacco" (chew).
2. A chew is called a "dip."
3. A man who chews is called a "dipper."
4. Apparently dipping unites men into a smokeless tobacco "brotherhood."
5. Apparently there are some big events for dippers this year to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Skoal.
6. Smokeless tobacco does not require the same warning labels as cigarettes. There was nothing on the advertisement that says "Cancer from smokeless tobacco will require lip-ectomy, throat-ectomy, tongue-ectomy and jaw-ectomy." Didn't say it anywhere.

So, after waiting another 10 minutes, I'm finally called back to have my blood letting. I've got an ass kicking cold too, so I'm already unhappy. But, the fact that my dear Donna, the only woman who can find my veins in the Twin Cities, is not working, strikes fear in me- with good reason.

Nurse 1: tries to find a vein in my mid forearm. No luck. Then tries in my hand. Finds a vein, gets a few drops of blood, blood stops, she digs around and it hurts like all hell. She stops and calls over nurse 2.

Nurse 2: tries to find a vein at my elbow on my right arm. She ties the tourniquet tighter and tries again. No luck. SHIT! LOOK AT THAT! A lump standing about 1 inch off my hand has grown under the skin at the site of Nurse #1's failed attempt on my hand. Oops says nurse #2 and asks me to apply pressure with my left hand. She goes to get nurse #3.

Nurse 3: tries to find a vein near the elbow of my left arm. Marginal success. Is able to get the blood to flow in short spurts then it stops all together. She removes the needle and we give up having retrieved about 1/3 of the blood we need.

Today, I have a brownish red, raised up bruise covering almost the entire back of my right hand. Just above my left elbow is a lump and a big ugly bruise forming there too. Not pretty. On the bright side, no one needs to look closely at me, draw me in an art class, and I have no hand modeling gigs. My cold is also getting marginally better, I am in St. Louis, MO for the weekend and have nothing to do but lay about. Not so bad after all.

Purge in Progress: Flash Update

Oops. I came across more sweaters. Now I have 31. 11 of which are gray. F*CK!

Purge in Progress: Update #1

Holy crapoly! Thus far I have three grocery bags full of stuff to donate and still have two beds- a king and a queen- covered with my clothes, and not all my clothes. This time I'm going to get rid of some more shoes too.

Here's a question: How many sweaters does an adult male need? I have 26. 9 of these are gray. Somebody help me!!!

Progress? I'm sorta not sure.

This today from the Associated Press. You know there is at least one pissed off sorority sister on campus today. I guess the fact that he wasn't beaten or killed by the basketball team after the game is, indeed, progress.

George Mason picks drag queen as homecoming queen
52 minutes ago
FAIRFAX, Va. (AP) — George Mason University senior Ryan Allen dresses in drag and doesn't mind being called a queen — homecoming queen, to be exact. Allen, who is gay and performs in drag at nightclubs in the region, said he entered the homecoming contest as a joke, competing as Reann Ballslee, his drag queen persona.
But he considers the victory one of his happiest moments and proof that the suburban Washington, D.C., school famous for its run to the Final Four a few years back celebrates its diverse student body.
"I was very touched by how Mason was so supportive through the whole process of allowing a boy in a dress to run for homecoming queen," Allen said in a phone interview. "It says a lot about the campus that not only do we have diversity but we celebrate it."
The senior from Virginia's Goochland County won the pageant Saturday at a sold-out Homecoming basketball game against Northeastern University.
Large portions of the crowd cheered as Allen, wearing a gold-sequined top, accepted the tiara and the Ms. Mason 2009 sash.
The school, known for racial diversity and a basketball team that pulled off a string of upsets to advance to the Final Four in 2006, was selected the nation's top "school to watch" in the most recent U.S. News and World Report rankings.
Allen's selection does not appear to have caused much consternation among the school's 30,000 undergraduate and graduate students. An online article in the student newspaper prompted only two comments, both positive.
Alyssa Cordova, an officer with the school's College Republicans, said she didn't pay much attention to Allen's election and is suprised by the media attention it has received.
"I just think it's kind of silly," she said.
Mara Keisling, executive director of the National Center for Transgender Equity and a former adjunct professor at Mason, said the lack of controversy "shows that the students and the George Mason community have a good sense of perspective."
University spokesman Dan Walsch said the school is "very comfortable" with Allen's selection and the contest rules are not sex-specific.
"It's just that if you're a man who runs for Ms., you've got to dress the part," Walsch said.
The contest was half talent judging and half voting by the student body. Allen received the most votes but doesn't know how he scored in the talent competition, in which he performed in zebra-print pants and lip-synched to Britney Spears.
He said his drag queen persona is fairly popular and well-known on campus — he has hosted events as Reann for the school's Pride Week, as well as HIV charity shows and an amateur drag night cabaret.
"Reann is very sassy, very silly. She's an entertainer throughout. She's not afraid to do a high kick if that's what it takes," Allen said. "She's got a little camp but is not as campy as some queens."

The Purge Part II

I have too much stuff. Way too much stuff. About a month ago, I purged the closets in the lower level of stuff that I've been storing for years and years. This weekend, I am going to embark on PURGE II, The Bloodier Sequel. This time, I'm going after things that I've had in plain sight in the upper level closets and drawers. I estimate that I have probably about 50 -60 t-shirts, but wear about 10 of them. I have loads of skinny clothes. If I lose weight I know that I'll want new skinny clothes. So, out they go! This is just the beginning. I am tired of my own self induced clutter. Done. Listo. Finito. I'll let you know how it goes.

Office Hero Update

Today, Joe (office hero) told C and I that he was a little afraid to go to the bahroom. C then asked Joe if he had bowel movements now with a hammer and frying pan in each hand, then made smashing motions. She is out of control.

Early Birds

Today, I got back around 2:00 to do some work from home. It's quieter and I fidget less at home. Anyway, that isn't the point. The point is that when I looked out the window, there were 4 robins sitting on the lawn. They usually don't make an appearance here until late march. But, it got even more strange. I looked up in the trees and there are about 25 robins hanging out, flying around and singing at the top of their lungs. I know some robins have begun to hang out here for winter, but 25 of them and in my back yard? Global warming. Yup. Global frickin warming. Curt would say that I need to release less gas into the environment, but I don't think that is much of a factor. (There is another blogger that I'm a little worried about on that front. Eh hem.) As a minor bird enthusiast, I've been reading a lot about species that are migrating further north than usual and not migrating or only migrating this far south in winter. Robins in Minnesota in February 20 years ago were unheard of. Makes one think. Hmmmm.

The New Office Hero

At about 1:00, the benevolent C bursts into my office and says "Have you talked to Joe Blo yet?!?!?!" (Name changed to protect the innocent.) I said no and asked what's up. C says that she can't tell me, impatiently looks around for Joe, looks back at me and says "I better go get him!" and runs away at full speed.
A few minutes later she reappears and proclaims "I can't find him, but he has to talk to you."
"About what?"
"I can't say, but it's really cool?"
"Well, C, the only thing worth this excitement would be that he has a parasitic twin on his back with gnashing teeth."
C gets really a really excited look on her face and says "Not quite, but almost!"
This launches me out of my chair and we embark on a quest for Joe Blo, who we find in his office. So here's what C was so excited about:

9 months ago, Joe went to Egypt with a friend and came back with some gastrointestinal distress. He and I had talked about it about a month ago and all the things he's tried to alleviate the weird symptoms. Anyway, he finally lands in the hospital last week and the doctors eventually do a CT scan on his abdomen and find..... get ready... you're going to love this....

GIANT INTESTINAL ROUNDWORMS!!!!

He told us that the doctor could see some that measured about 15 inches. Oh my god. Better yet, he explained that when they lay eggs, the larvae enter the bloodstream, go to the lungs and get coughed up and swallowed back into the gut to live out their lives. Eeewww! Best of all, he said he could feel them moving around in his gut. Motherlode!!! We were enthralled to say the least! However, apparently these little bastards can be quite dangerous, causing intestinal blockages, etc. Worse yet, since they are in his gut, his blood, his lungs, etc., he has to be treated with a drug that is basically chemotherapy with all the nasty-lose-your-hair-with-nausea-to-boot side effects. C and I walked away, quite satisfied with our cheap thrill, vowed not to treat him as a circus sideshow and quietly returned to work.

Vacation Miscellany

Booo hooo hooo. This is our last day in Puerto Vallarta. As always, we've had a marvelous time full of well, not much, which is precisely what makes these vacations so damn wonderful. Our schedule has basically been: lay around, eat, lay around some more, eat, lay around yet some more, eat, walk somewhere for dessert, go to bed. Sweet. Here are some miscellaneous vacation thoughts:
1. On the plane down a woman, around 70, boarded the plane with a BeDazzled t-shirt depicting a big shiny martini glass, bright red lipstick and a sporty blond yes-I-can-beat-you-to-the-bar-in-5-minutes-or-less hairstyle. I prayed she would sit next to me. She didn't. Instead I sat next to a fidgety guy with an i-pod. Booooooring.
2. Best tattoo: Yesterday, on Diana's Big Gay Boat Ride (not it's official name, but should be), there was a lovely man in a Lacoste long sleeved gray t-shirt with the traditional alligator embroidered on the left chest of the garment. He took off the t-shirt and had a little Lacoste alligator tattooed on his left pec. Hooray!
3. Last night at dinner, a mariachi trio was playing some song and we were hopelessly ill equipped to figure out the lyrics. We didn't want to miss out on singing along, so we determined the chorus sounded like "One Ton Tomato" and sang along anyway. One Ton Tomaaaaaaaato. It was nice.
4. We brought Curt's sister and her boyfriend on Diana's Big Gay Boat Ride yesterday. Diana is a fabulous 50 something , 4'10" French Canadian dyke who loves her bitches (us) and has a wicked laugh. We pulled into a cove for some swimming, the boyfriend, in line to go to the bathroom, asks Diana what we were going to do here. Without hesitating, Diana says, "This is where we kill you and leave your bodies", lets loose one of her wicked cackles and strolls away. We love Diana.
5. We played pool volleyball a few times with this group of guys on a corporate incentive trip. The boss, a guy in his late 30's, was getting a wee bit looped and occasionally referred to his underlings on the other side of the net as homos. Not so cool, but done in the same way that kids say "that's so gay"- meaningless but stupid, none the less. Anyway, the drunker he got, the more he engaged in horseplay- grabbing, wrestling- with his underlings, who were cute guys in their mid to late 20's. Hmmmmmmm. Suspicious behavior, and a little hot too.
6. Swim suit advice for men: Leave some room for mystery when picking a swim suit. If onlookers can assess the quality of the work done on your cirucumcision, the suit is too tight. Oh, and thongs don't look good on anyone. If you are in your 50's, this is more true for you than anyone else.

Greetings from Puerto Vallarta

Hola Amigos! We arrived in PV on Saturday evening and have been having a marvelous time. One of the things that keeps us coming back is the exceptional restaurants. Last night I had the most amazing octopus I´ve ever had. It was seasoned then seared so the skin was crispy and flavorful and the meat was tender and juicy. It was incredible. It was served on a stew of potatoe, fresh green beans, tomato and chorizo. Un-frickin-believable. We heart the seafood down here.
We´ve already developed one bad eating habit- Choco-Bananas with toasted coconut. Holy crap. These are as they sound- frozen bananas with chocolate- except these are made fresh while you wait, dipped in a thick dark chocolate and rolled around in the crispiest, tastiest toasted coconut you´ve ever had . Holy cow. We´ve had one after each dinner out. This could get dangerous.
One strange thing. I think sleeping on a different bed has made my dreaming a little freaky. I woke up Sunday morning with these words on my lips "This little guy is the only species of sand beaver here in Mexico." It was like I was going to say them aloud. I think I was running my own little National Geographic special in my head. Last night I had a dream that I was doing a stand-in acting bit on Frasier. The problem was that they had replaced the father with a very fey man in his early 30's. I lost the job because every time he opened his mouth I was caught up in uncontrollable laughter. ¿Is this internalized homophobia? <--- look at the fancy puncutation my Mexican keyboard can do. I love it.
Today we´re planning to take the water taxi over to Yelapa for a day of relaxation on a great beach on the southern end of the bay. They also make pie over there. Mmmmm. Pie.

The Flatulent Wildcat

This week, the benevolent C revealed to me that she has taken a younger lover. She is 44. He is 26. She told me that he guessed her age to be 30. I suspect her pants came off by the time he reached the second syllable of thir-ty. I mean, really, whose wouldn't? He is either a little clueless or very, very clever. We celebrated the fact that she is now officially a cougar, though she said she would rather be a MILF (as if there is more dignity in that). I had to remind her that she has no children. She decided she's happy with cougar because with her karma she knows her children would have two heads, possibly more. I suspect that with our fetus-in-fetu fascination, she might be right. Then in the next breath, she told me that she has been having horrible gas- the kind that peels paint. I had to ask her to remind me why she's been single for so long.

I will not

...use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil.

Evil is such a strong word. Hmmmm. Perhaps a bit of mischief? I'll save it for another day.

Super Bowl: My Observations

1. Curt Warner's wife sure doesn't look like the spiky haired lesbian she did 10 years ago. What happened? I liked that look because I imagined her making Curt her pantie-clad bitch at home.

2. The Cardinals pants fit better than the Steelers pants. Lots better.

3. When the announcers say things like "He always manages to get penetration," I have to suppress the 12 year old within from giggling.

4. There was a good amount of skipping, grabbing of butts, man piles and hugging. Nice.

5. Why more players don't find an excuse to pat Larry Fitzgeralds fine butt is beyond me.

6. If the Vikings aren't playing, I tend to root for the team with the cutest quarterback. I was rooting for the Cardinals this year.

7. Two commercials stuck with me: The Doritos crystal ball and the Budweiser Clydesdale pursuing Daisy the dancing horse. I like nacho cheese and animals.