Thursday, June 04, 2009

I Could Say This Is Relevant To Something, But That Would Be Misleading

I'm thinking of putting $2 on Mr. Hot Stuff to win in the Belmont Stakes this Saturday. Because he's a long shot. And because I have no concept of how to gamble successfully. Also, if I ever own a race horse, she'll be named either Inappropriate Joke or Racial Slur. Because I'm pretty sure the FCC wouldn't let me name her Fuck Face. I just googled it, and nobody in the history of horse racing has ever named one Inappropriate Joke or Racial Slur. Or Fuck Face, for that matter.

Plantains sounds disgusting, but really they're just fancy bananas.

I went to the Bone Doc this morning for my 6 week post-cast-removal check-up and, as I suspected, my arm is indeed still attached to my body. Seriously, what the hell else was this guy going to tell me? Oh, except that my new x-ray looks "reasonable" just like my last x-ray looked "reasonable", and by the way, it's possible there might have been some ligament damage that we didn't know about because we've taken 8,000 x-rays but no MRIs. Come back in 6 to 8 weeks if your wrist still doesn't work right, and by "right", I mean "bend in the manner that wrists are generally known for bending".

Gray and I are driving to Iowa on Saturday to watch my mother graduate from Jesus' school*, and I'm really wishing I had a Bible-shaped flask for the occasion. It would be like my wildest fantasy come to life, sitting at the Holiday Inn Airport Conference Center, getting schnockered up in a room full of people just like my mom, humming Christ Illusion and throwing communion wafers at the dude who's dancing around with his hands in the air (all 40,000 of them). OR eating hundreds of communion wafers to see if it's possible to get full from eating communion wafers. OR getting drunk enough to do a dramatic reinactment of The Exorcist scene where that chick crab-crawls backward downs the stairs.

Sometimes I like people more than I generally do. Sometimes, I don't even want to punch them in the neck.

The best thing about the process of moving? Is that you get to see those boxes full of shit that you haven't seen since the last time you moved and you can't remember what they're full of, but it must be important shit because you keep moving them everywhere you go, and then you can reminisce about that time when you had to use 1/2 inch masking tape instead of packing tape because you were poor and all you had was masking tape. And then you can reseal those same boxes (because of course the masking tape has disintegrated) with sticky tack because you're even more poor now than the last time you moved.

A good buddy of ours, The Feather, just turned 40 yesterday. It's on these types of big milestones that I like to stop and think about my life, consider where I'm going and what I'm doing, because compared to that guy, I'm going to be alive for fucking YEARS to come and should probably pace myself. Plus, I have to make sure I don't run out of money for schnapps.

Speaking of money, this TOTAL MONEY MAKEOVER is going pretty well for me so far, although the fact that I no longer eat food has been a great boon to the savings endeavor. Part of The Plan is to follow a a Nazi-strict budget in which every dime of my income is "spent" before it's earned, so that any disposable income (HA!) is paying down debt, and my expenses and my income cancel each other out penny for penny at the end of the month. Tomorrow is payday, and I have exactly fifteen dollars and twenty-three cents in my bank account. Normally, this would give me a stroke because HOLY SHIT THERE'S ONLY $15.23 IN MY ACCOUNT and OMG WHAT IF I FORGOT ABOUT SOME RANDOM AUTOMATIC PAYMENT FOR $16.00 THAT IS SCHEDULED FOR JUNE 4TH?! But since this is part of the TOTAL MONEY MAKEOVER and, therefore, is part of The Plan, I'm all zen about it. Which basically proves that you could light me on fire and I'd be totally cool with it so long as you wrote ,"I'm going to light you on fire," on a piece of paper and showed it to me first.

Why is that all audio books are possessed by Satan and no matter how meticulous I am about remembering where I paused the disc the night before, I always end up fucking lost in a maze of chapters I don't remember and characters that came from nowhere, three chapters ahead of where I was last time, and the part I last heard is no longer on the disc because apparently while my car was parked overnight, someone took the disc out and swapped it with a version of My Sister's Keeper doesn't include the part I was listening to when I parked my car the night before?

Joyce Carol Oates fucking rocks.

*It's not really Jesus' school, he's dead and doesn't own any schools, it's actually (so far as I know) a real, accredited university, and she's graduating with a bachelor's degree in Theology, which is awesome and I'm super proud and all that jazz. Now her next step is to become a certified minister, and that's the one I'm really looking forward to mocking.