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My hotness (as opposed to the size of my ass) will eclipse the sun.

Issue Date: Thursday, Jan. 18, 2007

Ya’ll remember the mention of the headache-y/blurry vision/sinus thing in the last entry?

Or are you still stuck on the incredible size of my ass? Let it go baby, shhhhh… it will be ok. It is not The Ass That Ate Tokyo*. It is just a large organization of flesh attached to the lower part of my back and the upper part of my thighs.

*Mmmm Asian food.

Back to my sinus headache thing.

I called in sick to work that Friday. Oh, I already told ya’ll that… and what I did over that weekend. Then I posted the picture of the shorts on that Monday and by Tuesday I was feeling like I had been tossed into a chipper/shredder and put back together by 4 year olds (they use a lot of glue… and the pieces normally don’t end up where they should), so I went to the doctor.

I love this man. He is Argentinean, hot and insists that I am not fat. “No, no, no Sooosahn, your cholesterol is puurrrrrfect, you have the heart of an 18 year old, if you want to carry a little extra weight, eh… you are strong, you can. Do not ever let me hear you say that you are fat.”

Heh. A little extra weight.

See? Love him. He patted me on the knee when I hopped up onto the table for him to look at my ears, nose and throat. “They hurt, no? Your ears especially.” “Yesd. Yesd, they hurt bery mush,” I said (as hotly as I could through the phlegm). Then I blew my nose, popped an ear drum and was deaf for the last ten minutes of my appointment.

I could see him talking and writing on his little note prescription pad thingy. I have my own little Argentinean McSteamy. With the fabulous hair. And an amazing accent. So I didn’t mind that I couldn’t hear him it was like my own little medical docudrama. He is very expressive with his hands, gesturing wildly and raising his (hot) eyebrows a bunch.

Another reason I love him? I told him that I used to love to ride the bike trails all over my little town because when I was young, that was my transportation and (well, I left out the part about where we would all meet on the bike trails when we would sneak out at night) perfect for joggers, walkers and bike riders. So do y’all know what my hot Argentinean doctor did? He gave me a prescription for… get this… a bike. He said, “I have a guy. Go see [name of said guy] at [name of bike place] on [road], and tell him I sent you. With a ‘script for the bike, you won’t have to pay taxes on it and I am sure he’ll make you a good deal.”

How awesome was that? So, I? Am getting myself a damn bike for my birthday. And soon? My hotness (as opposed to the size of my ass) will eclipse the sun and Al Gore can kiss the Global Warming problem goodbye.

Then I asked him if I could go back to work. He was all, “No no no Soooosahn. You have a fever, go home, stay there for 48 hours at least. But eef you do naht whaant to do theees, eeef you want to get everyone seeek, then yoooose their phones and be sure to give them my card as well. Oh HO!” And then he walked off laughing like he was the hottest (yes), funniest (debatable), awesomest (yes) doctor in the world.

PS. Love him.

So I went to the pharmacy, stocked up on Puffs Plus with lotion (love them… LOVE, but hate them when they smear on my glasses) some medication, Riiiicooolllaaaaa (cough drops) and my prescriptions for antibiotics and some nasal spray that tastes like Freon, then went home and tried to sleep.

I even got all situated in the guest bedroom that did not include in the creature comforts one slightly bite-y 11 ¼ pound Chihuahua mix**. But did include a down comforter, a slightly cooler room temperature than the Master Bedroom and THE SUN! Dear Lord! The SUN!

**Seriously. If that dog is a full blooded Chihuahua then I am Blanche Devereaux. Or Charo.

Where was I going with this?

Oh, yes. I was pitifully sick, all snotty and my sinuses were inflamed. I couldn’t sleep, watch TV, eat (everything tasted like either the antibiotic or Freon), read or rest. It was miserable and you should all feel very sorry for me because. Wait, what? What did you say?

(It is here that I wrote about seven paragraphs about how Stacey was in a car accident last Monday and that we are lucky she is alive and then I look at the pictures of her totaled SUV she sent me today and I start to cry and I get all snuffly again and it is just not a pretty picture. So, let’s just all send good thoughts her way and tell 2007 that if it doesn’t lighten the hell up on her with the Achilles issues, the burst ovaries, the meningitis and now the asshole running a red light and directly into her car? That we are going to gang up on it and call it a non-year. It will be 2008 twice. 2007 will be dead to us. So 2007 better get going with making her husband all rich, her uterus all pregnant and her child and family and new niece to remain healthy. Capiche?)

And… breathe… (and cough up a lung… Ricooooolllaaaaaaa!)

Did ya’ll know that it snowed here? Here. In Texas. Well, really, it was icy rain that froze over and made us miss school/work for two days this week. Seriously, we closed Dallas down because of a little cool weather with some wintrymix bullshit thrown in. The weather teams on TV were all, “Holy shit! You guys better stock up on firewood and bottled water and Ravioli because this storm is going to Rock Your Ass OFF! It is going to get to like twenty something and we are ALL GOING TO DIEEEEE!!!”

Twentysomething. Really?

Wow. That’s like… a few degrees below freezing. Think we’re gonna make it there Scooter? Maybe I should go out and chop down the pathetic little willow like tree that is in my yard for warmth, huh? Should I start shredding books Sport? Maybe turn the kitchen table into kindling?

Seriously, these guys were all Chris Farley doing the “In the Van DOWN BY THE RIVER!” excited about this storm.

Yesterday I got up at my normal 6:30 am time and called into the office. “We will be opening two hours later than normal, please call back for an update before you leave the house.” At nine the phone rang and it was my boss. Mister walked into the bedroom to hand me the phone and I was all groggy, “Hullo?” It was my boss. “Are you sleeping!?” I started laughing. “Dude, what time is it?” “Um. Nine. Good thing I was calling you to tell you that the office is closed for the day.” “Rock on.” “What are you still doing in bed?” “Well, the message said two hours later… to me that means 10.” “But it’s 9.” “Heh. Yeah, I got that.” “Slacker.”

So since the 9th I have had off like seven days.

This is the best January ever. Except I had to move a planning meeting, and totally worked while I wasn’t in the office. But… BUT, I didn’t have to go in. But, I burned some personal time. So, um. I just cancelled out my point.

Mister and I are supposed to go to my parents’ house for the weekend with the rest of my extended family so I hope the Winter Blast of aught seven holds off for a few more days.

Also. I am going to this thing.

In March. Green Bay, in March. Right now? It is 28 degrees and it feels like 20. I am sure that I am all tough with the pansy little Dallas ice storm (currently 38…. oooooooh) but I don’t know how tough my little hot house flower constitution will hold up to being outside, in the cold and snow, maybe with my nose all red and my ears hurty and also… um cold (thesaurus?... anyone?).

So, who’s comin with me?


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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