One for the Road

Well! We have a sort-of winner, for now, in that I went to the drugstore tonight and picked up Night of Olay (Swistle’s rec) because she has great skin and how do I know this? I AM TOTALLY WINNING her contest because dude, I knew her face within seconds and she DOES have great skin! YES. I AM SAYING IT RIGHT HERE AND NOW FOR THE FRILLIONTH TIME. Swistle = Photo H. Take that to the bank, Swistlers! (If I’m wrong, I will make and eat pad thai again. Okay?)

(Late-day edit: VICTORY IS MINE, Y’ALL.)

I’m sorry what was I saying? Oh yes. I bought Night of Olay because iI am painfully impatient and it was the only recommended one I could find at my local drugstore other than Cetaphil, which was my original first choice, but then I read the ingredients and saw that petrolatum was the second ingredient and it sort of grossed me out. Plus, it was six bucks, yo. But I ALSO plan to fill out the survey on Mario Badescu and am going to try their seaweed night cream, too. Because Holly was very convincing and I TOO would like porcelain skin.

So um, hey! What are your thoughts on sharing toothbrushes and/or razors? I mean among loved ones, that is. Not with fellow subway riders or anything. Because I accidentally used Adam’s toothbrush last night and ZOMG THE AWFUL AWFULNESS. He always acts as though I had just spit directly in his mouth, which I suppose I sort of did. And while it’s not the most PLEASANT thing in the world, to think that I just swept away my plaque with something that probably still contained the remnants of his the moment prior, I maintain that by the very fact that we are married people who like each other, we DO on occasion swap bodily fluid-type things. And plaque, really, is is THAT bad? I mean, I wouldn’t do it by CHOICE, but in a pinch, I’d use his like if, say, it was midnight in a new destination and I forgot to bring mine. But I realize this is not true for everyone, and it’s most definitely not true of my husband.

He compares it to sharing a razor, which I disagree with, because a razor involves BLOOD and for some reason that bothers me more. This is paradoxical, yes, plus if you have, say, gingivitis, your toothbrush will be bloody and … oh forget it. But it’s my fluid policy and I’m sticking to it. And I am NOT OKAY with sharing a razor with anyone, ever. I won’t even use Adam’s OR my sister’s. Ever.

I’m off to Boston tomorrow afternoon again, by the way, for my nephews’ High School Musical fest and time with my parents and then MONDAY I get to have my boob ultrasounded and stabbed and I gotta tell you, I’m dreading it like nothing I’ve ever dreaded before. I have a cyst the size of a quail egg in my left boob (too much info?) and I’ve had it for … well, about a year, I guess, and I’ve had tons of doctors look at it, and mammograms so no, I am not particularly worried about it.

In fact, at this point, I feel like I should just offer it up to anyone I meet, like hi, have you seen my boob cyst? It hurts! Which it does. A lot. Pretty often, in fact, as I have hormonal fluctuations like you read about (hence likely future of fertility drugs!) and it’s not my favorite thing in the world, this boob cyst, because it hurts all the time, like right now, when I think it’s trying to move out of my boob and into its own apartment, such is the URGENT NATURE OF ITS COMPLAINT. It would like better plumbing, I think. I would, too. You’re not alone, boob.

And it’s becoming my LEAST FAVORITE THING EVER knowing that people are going to STAB IT and drain stuff from it, because my thyroid biopsy was one of the worst experiences of my whole life. Like, it was EPIC in its awfulness, with giant (GIANT) needles ripping through my neck like a hurricane. Pain I was totally unprepared for, by the way, as I was all, this is going to be so easy! Easy! Like, it totally won’t hurt at all!

It did. A lot.

So there’s that. I will be thinking of THAT while I suffer through High School Musical. Suffering upon suffering. I might as well imagine the side effects of Clomid and eat a carton of prunes while I’m in there to really make the experience TRULY EXCITING IN ITS OVERWHELMING PAIN. (I kid! I love those little boys and I’m sure it will be … loving in its pain.)

And finally, I went to the post office to mail something at lunch today — it was an envelope being sent to a PO box WITHIN THE VERY POST OFFICE THAT I WAS STANDING. And yet, I had to pay postage. For them to WALK IT over to the box. Fair? I THINK NOT.

Have a great weekend.

*House of Pain. HA. Am killing myself here. Before my boob does, that is.

29 comments May 1st, 2008