April 6
Behold! I got a body wave! I have bounce! I have style! Or at the very least, I will when I'm allowed to wash it again on Saturday. I woke up this morning with the closest I've ever come and probably (hopefully) ever will come to an afro.
Funny Shit, Man:
"I keep thinking about this story I saw on 20/20 last month about a couple who had a baby born with 'down syndrome'. Tough work even for the most loving parent and my heart goes out to them. I get caught up in their story here: They made the decision to have the toddler undergo plastic surgery to help eliminate some of the physical attributes of this syndrome, specifically the facial characteristics that make them instantly recognizable as developmentally disabled. and I wondered to myself "haven't doctors been performing this type of procedure for decades?"
cuz, I swear to god, some of the people I run into in my life 'look' normal but are in fact stone cold retards, man. "I about spit out my coffee when I read that. Go visit Ken. He's a hipster and cracks my shit up. I won't even comment on how amusing I find retarded humor, I've made it abundantly clear.
Who Do You Suppose Mailed This Crap To Me Today?(Then, printed out a copy and hung it on every available surface?)
I am Woman!
I shave my legs, I sit down to pee
And I can justify any shopping spree.
Don't go to a barber, but a beauty salon
Can get a massage without a hard-on
I can balance the checkbook, can pump my own gas
Can talk to my friends about the size of my ass.
My beauty's a masterpiece, and yes, it takes long.
At least I can admit to others when I'm wrong.
I don't drive in circles at any cost,
And I don't have a problem admitting I'm lost.
I never forget an important date
You just gotta deal with it, I'm usually late
I don't watch movies with lots of gore
Don't need instant replay to remember the score.
I won't lose my hair, I don't get jock itch,
And just cause I'm assertive, Don't call me a bitch.
Don't say to your friends, Oh yeah, I can get her.
In your dreams, my dear, I can do better!
Flowers are okay, But jewelry's best.
Would you look at my face, Not at my chest!
I don't have a problem with Expressing my feelings
I know when you're lying, You look at the ceiling .
Don't call me a girl, A babe or a chick.
I am a WOMAN, Get it, you prick?!
(Note: The day someone talks to BSs chest, I'll fucking jump out a window. As far as I could tell, only people who have tits get them checked out.)
Even Children of Famous People Are Fucking Annoying on the Phone:
Have you ever had a conversation so insane that afterwards you had to stop and make sure it really took place? I had that conversation yesterday. Dr. B. has a rather famous author as a patient. Okay, extremely famous. World famous. Said famous author is not doing so well from a medical standpoint. Said famous author has all sorts of problems, all complicated by the fact that he smokes 4 packs a day and washes it all down with a bottle of scotch. Anyhow, his being a patient here has caused quite a stir because, despite the fact that Connecticut is chock full of the rich and famous preening around, feeling smug in their wealth, none of them get sick and certainly they who do get sick do not come to the Monolith Hospital. No one would want to be unhip enough to die in New Haven.
I have no idea how Famous Author became Dr. B's patient, just that he likes and has enough trust in his abilities as a physician to have himself flown (in his own jet, which he paid to have equipped with a full medical staff in case of emergency midair) here rather than staying in the Southern State he lives and being treated there. So, Famous Author is here, somewhat unstable, and awaiting surgery. This morning, Dr. B's phone rings and it's the Female Child of Famous Author, who is, judging by the conversation, completely out of her damn mind.
FCOFA: Is this Dr. B's secretary?
Me: Yes, it is.
FCOFA: Good, I kind of hate doctors. I'll talk to you! I'm FCOFA and you may know that my father is there, awaiting surgery and I had a few suggestions for Dr. B..
Me: Um, okay.
FCOFA: Okay, so I know My Father because he's just like me, and that's why we don't get along. He's a mean old bastard and so am I and I think that if I show up before his surgery, it'll make it worse for him, so I don't want to, but I just have a few suggestions.
Me: Okay..
FCOFA: My Father lives in an imaginary world 99 percent of the time, because he's a writer, and that's what makes him so good, okay? So, he is very receptive to images. What needs to happen is that Dr. B needs to tell My Father "You're strong, LIKE A BULL!"
Me: A bull?
FCOFA: Or "You're Like an OX!" Because that's that's what he responds to! Images! Positive images. If you say "WOW! I've never seen test results like those before! They are AMAZING! YOU ARE A BULL!" Because let's face it, that's why he's lived so long. I'm best friends with Ancient Unfunny Comedian's Son, and he says the same thing about his Father: He's never going to die because he's so thrilled with himself!
Me: He's thrilled with himself?
FCOFA: Well, look, he's a brilliant writer, he has millions of dollars, you've got to expect that he's going to live in his own world. He and I are exactly alike I know he loves me, and I love him, but I'm just like him and he's a mean old son of a bitch so I think that when I walk into the room, it's just going to make things worse, you know? I don't want to make it worse, and I was talking to my friend, Ancient Unfunny Comedian's Son, and he agrees with me, going in before the surgery might just make it worse and I certainly don't want to do that.
Me: No you wouldn't want to do that.
FCOFA: So, because he thinks in images, and has such a thrilling life, one that's kept him alive for so long, the only way to approach him is right before surgery, for Dr. B to say "How are you today, you OX? You BULL? YOU STALLION OF A MAN!"
Me: Stallion. Bull. Ox. Got it.
FCOFA: I'm sorry, I'm babbling, but you have to understand. I love my father. He loves me,but my parents were pro-life before they had me. During his other surgery 7 years ago, we got along great, but he was medicated. We get along GREAT when he's medicated.
Me: Ummm..
FCOFA: BULL! BULL! OX!! STALLION! It'll save his LIFE!
This is highlights of the conversation. In reality, it went on for 25 minutes. TWENTY FIVE MINUTES. That's 25 minutes I will never get back, folks. Someday, when I'm eccentric and rich, I'm going to do shit like that all the time. Call poor unsuspecting people and yammer on about my childhood and my parents and Angelo and Eleanor and how I have to strain when I take a shit and how my little feet hurt when I'm forced to walk and not be carried by my team of Mongolian Slaves. (Note: Slavery is wrong. I would never have slaves. I would never, ever say no to a fleet of SERVANTS, though.)
All of my phone calls are going to go like this:
Person: Doctor Smiths office, may I help you?
Rich Eccentric Dana: SHOOOOEEEEESSS!
Person: Excuse me?
R.E.D.: SHOES! I LIKE SHOES, OKAY?
Person: Umm...
R.E.D: I need an appointment, for my feet! They speak to me at night. Good thing I'm FUCKING RICH! People would think I was NUTS if I wasn't so DAMN RICH! What time can I come in? I'm already a patient of Dr Smith's.
Person: Umm..
R.E.D: Tell him! Tell him my things are doing that thing again. He'll know exactly what I'm talking about, he deals with it all the time. See, it started back when I was about 3 and refused to go to the bathroom.
Person: I CAN GIVE YOU AN APPOINTMENT WHENEVER YOU WANT!
It'll be damn perfect. I'll go to drivethrough windows in some old beater of a car (I'll keep the Volvo, I think it qualifies) and when spoken to will scream about alien rays and imaginary demons and then drive off in stealth mode (=scrunched down, below the window, headlights off.)
Speaking of Lunatics:
After Nicole quit, BS took no time at all before suggesting one of her friends for the job. This might be okay if she knew anyone under the age of 70 or anyone even remotely competent. This freakish old fool dodders in for an interview in some ancient, sorry ass suit with sensible shoes and support hose. She walks up to Dr. Cowboyboots (Nicole's boss) and screeches:
"I LOVE YOUR HAIR!"
The man looks like Epstein from Welcome Back Kotter, if you're needing a visual reference. Epstein with a huge nose. Lest you think I'm being unkind, his is not the type of hair you'd complement.
Nicole calls me on the phone and whispers "She doesn't look like she knows about computers!
I reply "She doesn't look like she can get up the fucking stairs!"
Today, I look at her resume.
"Experience through out the Office in setting Up Procedures Policies and Systems using Excell and Corell""
The freaky chick who works at the next desk from Nicole has worked there for about a year and a half. In that year and a half, she has never, ever once spoken to me voluntarily. Never. Ever.
Today, she stands before me and proclaims:
"You ought to move down to Nicole's desk, so that you and I can work together!"
I was so fucking stunned, I didn't even know what to say.
"Yeah..because that woman is going to be horrible! People are already laughing at me"
I was tempted to tell her that people are probably laughing at her for the following reasons:
a.) She sounds like a ranting freak
b.) She dresses like a ranting freak
c.) She IS a ranting freak.
The point is, she's never spoken to me before, and suddenly, we're friends because I'm the least frightening option. She's the kind of person who flips the fuck out if she notices that someone's used her pencil. Seriously. Sometimes I mess shit up on her desk solely to see her reaction. (yes, I'm a dick.)
You all see the issue here, though, right? The issue is that Dr. Cowboyboots is far too stupid (a stupid doctor? No fucking way!) to see a resume full of grammatical and spelling errors and two jobs which boil down to "recognize computer when sitting in front of one" "has no earthy idea how to use digital phone and will hide in bathroom whenever it rings" "worked for man in polyester suit with sweatstains. used to be considered quite a hottie and was chased around the desk regularly". What it also means is that the fucking heartburn brigade is being doubled and that I'm going to be hearing a whole lot about how the cafeteria lunch special tastes and smells the second time around.
Spain, please..
I am for a life around the corner
that takes you by surprise
that comes leaves all you need
and more besides
I am for a life and time by numbers
blast in fast 'n' low
add 'em up, account for luck
you never know
I am into friendship and plain sailing
through frenzied ports o' call
o shake the hand to beat the band
with love is all
or nothing to the man who wants tomorrow
there's one in every town
a crazy guy, he'd rather die
than be tied down
I am for the man who drives the hammer
to rock you 'till the grave
his power drill shocks
a million miles away
I am for the revolution's coming
I don't know where she's been
for those who dare because it's there
I know I've seen
now and then I've suffered imperfection
I've studied marble flaws
and faces drawn pale and worn
by many tears
I am that I am from out of nowhere
to fight without a cause
roots strain against the grain
with brute force you'd better
hold out when you're in doubt
question what you see
and when you find the answer
bring it home to me