Here's how you know your life sucks.
Your life sucks when the best thing that's happened all week is that your prescription drug provider is now using a smaller generic version of your anti-depressant medication so you no longer have to choke down the giant yellow horse pills every day to keep yourself from killing people. I literally cheered Awesome!! out loud. And then I realized how completely pathetic it was that I was so excited about that.
You know the feeling that you've been busy as hell but you haven't really DONE anything? I spent most of Friday driving Rip's gorgeous son Skater to and from his class and to get his car fixed so he could pass safety inspection and he could stop getting ticketed for his expired plates. Let me clarify that I am SO not complaining about driving the boy around.
Rip's son Skater is beeeeeeeyootiful. He and his friends made a skateboarding video (which he's selling, ladies) in which he appears shirtless. His Abs are fuckin AMAZING, and he lets me touch them as payment for my shuttle services (I'm thinkin I totally get the better end of that deal). Seriously, if I wasn't both married to R and a good friend of Rip's, I'd be ALL OVER that boy. Hey, he's twenty! Roowwwwwwwlll..
The chronology of the day was that as soon as I got Pie on the bus in the morning, I went and got Skater and took him to his class, then I came back home, put Tito on his bus and went back and got Skater and brought him home to Rip's. I had one hour that I didn't have to spend in the car and was hoping to take a nap, but then I remembered that Pie needed to wear his Boy Scout uniform the next day, so I wound up spending that hour sewing patches on Pie's shirt.
Tito had a birthday party at 4 - which I thought was kinda crappy because, hello, not all kids get out of school at 3. Mine get out at 3:47 and the party was a good 20 minutes away. If I'd let them ride the bus home like usual, we wouldn't have left until 4:15, so I had this great plan to get in the Parent Pickup line so we could leave right away and be minimally late.
Pie forgot I was picking them up and got on the bus anyway. I should have thought about it more before I made this genius plan. Pie could have just gone home on the bus anyway because Beebie was home, but I thought keeping the boys together would make everything simpler. By the time they got Pie off the bus, it pretty much negated my whole attempt at maximum efficiency.
So I got there at about 4:45. It's not that I got lost, exactly, it's that I went to the wrong place. Plus I got lost on the way to the wrong place because I turned the map upside down, but that's beside the point. Anyway, the party was supposed to end at 6, and I needed to pick him up and get him home right at 6 so I could turn back around and head to KOFA's work party at the bowling alley (I almost typed blowing alley, which would have been a WAY different kind of party).
It didn't make sense for me to drive all the way home and back, so Pie and I got Chik Fil A and killed time until 6, and then I took the boys home and headed out to hang with KOFA. And I turned the wrong way going there too. The irony, of course, is that I had no problem whatsoever driving home after I'd been drinking for two solid hours.
Saturday morning all five Karmas went to the Boy Scout's Scouting for Food thing, where they put the bags on the doors one week and people fill the bags with non-perishables then the next week the Boy Scouts come back and pick them up and load them into a huge truck to be distributed to local food pantries. It's a really cool thing, so if you got a bag on your door last weekend, don't forget to fill it and put it outside early Saturday morning.
We got there and got our random assignment of what street to put the bags on. RANDOM, ok? Got that? RANDOM.
There are dozens of streets in the area our Pack was covering.
We got Swamp Thing's street. Unbelievable.
I stayed in the van with Beeb listening to Bon Jovi, and at one point a red minivan that looked like the Swampmobile came toward us.
I went into a quiet panic, whispering,
Oh SHIT, Beeb. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh God, NO. Mutherfugginfuck...
Beeb was laughing her ass off, reminiscent of the Lubaba hysterics, as the van passed Swamp Thing's driveway and headed right for us. It was the dude who organized the pack asking how we were doing and if there was anything we needed.
Nope, nope, we're fine, thanks. Just a little tiny heart attack when I thought you were my archnemesis coming for my soul, but apart from that, perfect.
We were almost done, maybe two houses left, and as I bent over to my sunglasses out of the glovebox of the Odyssexy, I looked up and saw Swamp Thing's van - and I'm POSITIVE it was hers - which had somehow passed, miraculously when I wasn't looking.
I don't know how she didn't see me parked there. My van is easily identifiable by the Luckenbach, Texas sticker on the back window. And the boys were putting a bag on a house which was on top of a hill so she didn't see Pie either. Crazy.
Seriously, the planets aligned in my favor. I hope they align again when we go back to pick shit up this Saturday. Moving on -
MORE BOOB NEWS.
It's been a little while since my last boob update, so here's the latest Boob News. This morning I got a call from my OB's office, reviewing the results of my follow-up Mammogram last week.
Well, Dr. Walsh says it looks like it's probably benign...
Hang on, what?? PROBABLY? This Girl doesn't handle the word Probably very well. Probably's not the same as IS.
She says she wants you to be absolutely sure you go back in six months... (She's saying that because I went like two and a half years between annuals once.)
Great, I get to freak out until May.
And keep doing your self-exams...
Ok, look. I'm a Double D. I've got a lot of surface area goin' on, and my worst fear is that there'll be something horrible buried deep down and I won't be able to feel it.
If you'd like, we can give you the name of a Breast Specialist so you can get another opinion...
Specialist??? Do I NEED a Specialist? Am I okay or am I not okay??? Fuckin TELL ME!!
Um, way to fuck with my head! Why didn't they send me to the Breast Specialist for the follow up in the first place? They had actually told me that they were going to do a sonogram rather than the Boobsquisher 3000, and they said that the Boobsquisher results made it look like the sonogram wasn't necessary. They sent me home thinking I didn't have anything to worry about. Why didn't they do all they had to do to find out as much as possible the last time I was there with my boobs already whipped out?
I mean, it's not that I mind whipping them out, I'll whip 'em out anytime. I'm just saying, for the sake of my convenience, why didn't they go more indepth if the best they could tell me was Probably Benign? So yeah, that's how my day started out.
Later that afternoon, old boyfriend Rick called me for a Boob Update, and first, while I'm thinking about it, let me just say how much I love the fact that y'all are so tuned into my boobs. Really, it's sweet. Anyway, I told him about the phone call I'd gotten from the OB. And while I was still on the phone with him, I opened the mail. I had received the following letter from the Department of Radiology:
Dear Mammography Patient:
Evaluation of your mammogram reveals one or more findings, which we believe are probably benign (not cancer).
We recommend follow-up:
Left mammogram in six months . This exam does need to be scheduled. [Call us and make an appointment, blah blah blah]
Mammography does not detect all breast problems and does not replace a regular physical exam by your physician. Theses (sic) two methods together have been shown to be the most effective means for detection for early breast cancer.
Remember that you should not ignore a breast lump or possible change in your breasts, even if your mammogram is normal. If you feel an abnormality in your breast or a change in your breast examination, contact your physician.
We also encourage you to use regular breast self-examination. If you wish information on the technique, call [our office]. We look forward to serving you in the future.
Don't you love it when in trying to tell you not to worry they have to also add, in order to cover their own asses, that they might possibly be wrong? Great. So I got that goin' for me.
And you know what makes me feel better when I'm freaking out? Ridin Dirty.
I also spilled beer in my closet last night. Trust me, you don't want to know.
Suffice it to say, it's been a Fucked Up Week.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Here's how you know your life sucks.