July 11
Look carefully...
Haiku for Deletion:
where there were once words
now there is gentle haiku
too much sharing: bad
I have a wart. I didn't know that it was a wart, because I've never HAD a wart before. I didn't know it was a wart because it's in a weird place. I didn't know it was a wart because I DON'T GET WARTS. Take a look at my photo up there. See my watch? Look below it. See the lump? It's a wart!! In a stupid place!! Who gets a wart on top of their ARM? Anyhow. A wart. I've been absently picking at it for--no shit-- about a YEAR without anyone noticing, and without me knowing what it was. All I knew is that it was in a weird place on my arm, and that I didn't ilke it, so picking at it and making it bleed might possibly make it go away. Alas, this was not the case.
To make a long story short, I've tried all of these wart removing tactics, still unconvinced that it was a wart ("all these"=bought Compound W impregnated bandages, used them for a week, and then picked furiously at the mooshy lump that it left, which didn't make it go away, but DID make a stinging, stomach churningly gross mess of the thing). Eventually, I decided to seek professional help, and woefully shoved my arm in my dermatologist, Dr. Jeff's, face. As a non parenthetical aside: I am very careful not to overstep the "give me free medical advice!!!" boundary that BS seems to not see drawn on the floor. She's forever having him squeeze and inject and lance shit on her face. It's WRONG. That having been said, I shoved my arm in his face, and asked "What the hell IS this!? Nick claims it's a wart [by the way: Nick is the person who told me it was a wart. Apparently, he's had millions* of them, and I just never noticed. You'd think after 6 years...] but I don't know if I believe him!" He looked carefully and agreed that it very likely was a wart. Damn.
*Um, probably not millions. Maybe 2?
The treatment? Freeze the fucker off!! Liquid nitrogen! At my DESK!! DESK SURGERY!! Sweet! So, a few weeks later, he comes in with a steaming cup and three long wooden swabs. Ow. Ever had something frozen off? It's strange. Not painful, not great, it turned the skin a horrible color and then it was done. "It's going to blister up, hopefully, and then fall off."
That was two days ago. Since then, my wart has gone from something only I noticed to something people stop in the halls to point at. "Did you BURN yourself?" "WOW, what HAPPENED??" Seriously, it's that nasty. I've taken to sitting and kind of petting it, waiting for the blister to happen. Did I mention that it's sort of turned brown? Not the whole thing, though. Just the edges. It's got brown, puckered edges and a sickly white center, and that my friends, THAT is a reason that my job isn't so horrible all the time.
Desk surgery.
Don't Be Jealous, Friends. Oh, no. Wait. BE Jealous, be jealous. Sorry about that...
Tomorrow, I'm going to Boston for the weekend with two hot and lovely ladies. Because I am STUPIDLY excited, I can not fathom concentrating enough to write much more in this entry. It's a miracle I've made it through this week without exploding. Boston!! Sexy CHICKS! Ooh, that reminds me! Hah! Before I go, I'll tell you the hotel story.
I ordered our room through Priceline.com, remembering the good luck Nicole and I had had with it in 2000. My bid was accepted, and we were welcomed to The Hotel De Priceline (like I'm going to tell you where we're staying, WHATEVER, stalkers...) for however much I bid a night. Can't remember. When I did it, though, I made a mental note to call the hotel when it came closer to the time because on I'd noticed that I was only allowed to choose 1 or 2 people per room, which is, obviously, not enough.
So, I call Hotel De Priceline and tell the guy the story. Reserved room, only two, there are three of us. The guy says: "Oh. Well, I can't guarantee you more than one twin bed in your room". I pause. I keep pausing. Finally, I say "You mean to tell me that you're going to put three fully grown women in A TWIN BED?" "Yes, ma'am. It's a possibility. We can not promise you anything beyond a twin." Pause. Pause pause pause. "Are you filming a PORNO or something? Three women? ONE BED??"
I'll let you all know how that works out. See you next week!
the other day - home - email - soon