Kiss Them For Me

I was thinking about what I specifically enjoy about being here, and truthfully, my mind was full of nothing but crickets, because oh my God, I am going through one of those phases where it feels like I am going to be here for the rest of my godforsaken life, only to die a slow, sweaty death from a terminal case of swamp ass.

However, when I calmed down, I did realize that there are a few things that I really do love. Unfortunately, they all centered around food, and while I recognize that no one cares what I had for lunch, I am going to miss so many edible things I can’t get up north. Things like actual Mexican food and strawberries and tomatoes that never, ever taste like they’re from a hothouse even in the middle of January. Shrimp the size of my fist that are bright pink even when raw, and fresh fish so meaty and tender it almost tastes like chicken (which begs the eternal question: why don’t we just eat chicken, then? No one is really sure.) And while in theory, that sounds like a craving haven for being pregnant, it just…well, just no, and that’s territory we’ve already covered, so wow, it is time to move on to an equally uncomfortable topic!

I haven’t been kissed in more than a week, and while it sucks, I wouldn’t kiss me either, with the open wound and all. But the real beauty is that along with The Herp on the left side of my lip, I have also contracted The Stye (they come together sometimes for reasons unknown), which means that my left eye is swollen beyond natural proportions, but hey, I am wearing earrings, although they aren’t really working for me with this look. In fact, all it really means is that all that’s left for me to do is scream “Hey you guys!” and shimmy down the sail of a boat by a pocket knife in a cave along of the coast of Oregon with a partner named Chunk.

It doesn’t end there, oh of course not. My left side has declared open war on the universe, basically, for today, as I was gracefully heading into the bathroom (which is, embarrassingly, a unisex hole in the wall in the back of my boss’s office, which is merely a giant cube in front of everyone), I slammed into the door and, perhaps even more conveniently, crushed my boob with a force that made me cry out, “I slammed…my… you know! HA! SEE YOU LATER!”

Which, uh, see you later? I was going to pee, not climb the Andes. But that’s not really the point – the point is that the crushing has rendered my left boob – the entire left boob – black and blue, as in, it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced, and in fact – even better! – it’s SWOLLEN to an unnatural shape, as I discovered on my way home from work. I am now supremely uncomfortable, in every possible sense, on my entire left side, and my bras are too tight, but of course, only on one boob.

To recap: open wounds, a near-shut weepy eye and a bruised left boob. In other words, I’ve never been hotter. There will be ripe heirloom tomatoes this weekend, however, and in a strange way, that will make it all better.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

*Siouxsie and the Banshees

12 comments October 12th, 2006