October 25
Today's Haikus for Jews:
Jewish triathlon--
gin rummy, then contract bridge,
followed by a nap
Today:
I could tell from the get go that today was going to be a big whispering on the phone day for BS. She practically fell over herself to tell me her news: "Remember that woman I worked with in surgery?? The one I've told you about?? SHE RESIGNED!!! I cant GET OVER IT!!"
I replied: "Well, does that mean I need to start organizing another going away party for you? Wasn't she the only reason you left that job?"
She looked confused and said "She LEFT!!! I just can't get over it. Not that it matters."
"I understand that. When you came back to this job, you told me that the only reason you were coming back was because you couldn't work with HER. Now that she's not there, you can go back. What kind of food do you want at this going away party?
She stared at me, blank, for about 10 seconds, burst into that phony laughter, and said:
"I'm not going back! Why would I?"
I knew she wouldn't. I was simply being a pain in the ass. I mean, why WOULD she go back? What would be gained by her leaving this job? Who else would have her? I mean, jesus. She doesn't work. She knows shit about computers. She talks on the phone all day. And for fun: this is new, she bought one of those glucose monitors for diabetics (which she ISN'T) and every few hours, I hear the snap of the needle. She's dying to have something big and important wrong with her and it's really pissing her off that despite her best efforts at some obscure, complicated illness, all she is is a hypochondriac. She reads the results with hope that her numbers will be skewed, and they NEVER ARE.
Another peek into her psyche: She likes being in the hospital. It's party time for her. She's related the story of the "time where she needed four transfusions and the doctors couldn't believe how calm she was, and she told them 'me being in the hospital is the only time I ever get any rest! I love it here' and they thought that was just so funny!" about oh, 87 times in 1999 alone.
And I was right. She spent the rest of the day whispering. I hate her. I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if she'd go into a different room to whisper, but no. She has to do it in front of me because she thinks I cant hear what she's saying AND because by whispering, she gives herself power and is, in essence, saying to the world 'you care what I have to say & as such I must whisper! The crap I discuss with my friends is so important, you can not be trusted to know! I would be betraying secrets of INTERNATIONAL importance!"
I really, really fucking hate her.
And the BS Quote of the Morning:
"God. His cologne makes me gag even more than yours does, Dana!"
I'm Apple Pie Lazy Today:
I'm all fucking set with going to the gym. I don't know where these little bursts of non motivation come from, but I'm in the midst of one right now. Dammit. I just cant seem to find the hours in the day to get shit done. Which is full of shit & I know it. I really DO need to walk around Westville (that's where I live in New Haven, in case I'd not mentioned it previously) and look for houses for Angelo & Eleanor. My window of opportunity is sort of brief now that it's getting dark (and cold, dammit) so early. We need to start hammering down the sub floor. We need to put the window in. We need to put together the cabinets. I feel an all-compassing fear rising in my stomach every time I think about the kitchen and what needs to be done.
AND SO all there is left for me to do is eat pie. With ice cream. Vanilla. Hot. The turning of the leaves is forcing me. They're all like "Dana! Here, here are some warm socks!! Put on this sweatshirt!! Put your feet up, we'll bring you some nice pie and a glass of cold milk! Don't go outside, you'll get chilled! Sit, sit." And who the hell am I to argue with turning leaves? I need soup and toast and crap like that.
What's gotten into me? Getting to the gym is like pulling teeth. And you should hear the conversations I have with myself. It's a battle between pumped Dana and sloth Dana.
Tonight, Odds and Ends:
I didn't go to the gym. No sirreebob I did not. Nick and I bundled into sweatshirts and walked around the neighborhood looking at houses. Didn't see many for sale (that weren't gigantic colonials with turrets and moats and shit like that. The houses here run BIG), but had a really pleasant time. I love fall.
Behold! Be impressed with my niece, Willow who is in a (local) TV commercial. Click it here to revel in her cuteness (along with seeing Marietta, on of my many sister-in-laws). If you need to see more baby pictures, go here and here and that should be just about enough of gawking at infants for a while.
So, since I'm not in love with the Bryan Ferry album, what did I get in the mail this afternoon? You got it, kids. Another copy of the same CD. Apparently, amazon didn't think I loved it enough and deemed it appropriate for me to have two. Anyone want to buy a copy of a great cocktail party cd ?
Seeing the pictures of Willow got me thinking about babies. That got me thinking about eggs & sperm. That got me thinking about this:
A while back I'd seen something advertised in The Educational Monolith/New Haven Hospital's newspaper:
HEALTHY WOMEN WANTED TO DONATE EGGS FOR INFERTILE COUPLES. $5,000 reimbursement.
And there was a phone number listed. "SHIT!", thought I to myself. "That is a lot of fucking money!" So I called. It was a lot more of a pain in the ass {to mention one bodily locale} than I expected it to be. Counseling. Therapy. Hormones. Injections. NEEDLES. Injections. Uchhh. I'm thinking they'll go in, suck a few out, bang. $5000. It didn't quite click the orifice they'd have to go into. So, really, I wasn't thinking too straight.
One of the things that really stopped me from donating (besides the needles, which was a good 85% of the reason) was the fear: What if no one wants my eggs? What if I met a couple and they didn't like me? Didn't think I was athletic enough? Smart enough? What if they didn't think I was pretty enough or tall enough? Would they be able to tell that I've been blowing off the gym?
Then comes this shit, and I know my fears were valid. Only models are allowed to donate eggs now? Childless couples are going to deny the eggs of an average woman to have superchildren? That doesn't make any kind of sense to me at all. If I wanted children and could not have them, believe me, I wouldn't hold out for Elle MacPhearson, no matter how lovely she may be. If I had that kind of desire in my heart, I would want any child I could love. Isn't that what having a baby is about? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but the Elle MacPhearsons and Cindy Crawfords in this world are a great big fucking minority compared to everyone else out there who's breeding:
SO, say I, take your chances and see what pops out. It might be good, it might be hideous. Either way, it's yours.
See what I mean about ugly people? There are a fucking LOT of them out there. Be thankful you're not one of them, and that it's not contagious.
