Sunday Bloody Sunday
A random list of things that have nothing to do with one another, really, but I have to get them off my chest. If I knew how to do bullets (which I don’t, as I am a dolt), I would. Instead, you get wee dashes! Hurrah!
- When I told my mother about the terrorists-in-Vermont incident the other night, she was completely unfazed and replied that she would have had a similar reaction. Which leads me to entirely understand PRECISELY why I am like this. My sister, however, simply announced that I was merely going all “bloody beef” on everyone again.
This brings me to …
- A few Christmases ago, I had severe PMS, and when my sister and dad got the Christmas roast out of the oven, I immediately declared it too rare for human consumption and started screeching, “It’s raw! It’s BLOODY! It’s raw! IT IS TOO BLOODY!” and almost threw my body in front of the roast, lest anyone eat it and die of toxoplasmosis or salmonella or whatever. I was almost in TEARS, such was my protective nature of our precious digestive systems from this standing rib roast.
It has hence been known as the Bloody Beef Incident, and is now a euphemism for anytime I completely lose my shit without real cause. Whenever I get upset about anything, my family will not hesitate to calmly ask, “Is this something real, or are you going Bloody Beef?” More than once, I’ve sheepishly admitted Bloody Beef.
I think it’s safe to say I went Bloody Beef the other night.
- I believe I have my second glucose tolerance test tomorrow, but the thing is, I’m not sure. The date is smudged on the card, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to drink that vomitous Glucola without cause, which means I have to rise at the ass-crack of dawn to check. I am, however, slightly hopeful that this test will be better than the last GTT, when I was in my first trimester, and required deep breathing exercises and a Herculean effort not to puke it right back up on the nurse. Then again, AIR made me puke around that time, so I am bullish.
HOWEVER, this next test involves me having to chug it WHILE DRIVING, as they have me drink it BEFORE I arrive, and the damn doctor is an hour away. I don’t think this is wise, and I’m afraid I’m going to get into an accident and die while puking on myself. I have already puked on myself while driving to and from this particular office, so I suppose it’s nothing new. But this time, it will be SNOWING.
Then again, this may be a Bloody Beef fear.
- So far, the only lotion recommendation I’ve tried is Blogless Kathryn’s suggestion of Neutrogena’s light sesame oil which, if you can believe it, is awesome for some body parts (bellies), not so awesome for others (arms, particularly if they’re hairy). Also, it suggests putting a few drops in the bath and I can’t help but think that this would be EXTREMELY DANGEROUS as it is OIL and therefore SLIPPERY.
- This weekend, Adam and I cleared out some boxes that we’re putting into storage, and inside my sorority scrapbook, he discovered letters from my most vomitous ex-boyfriend, wherein the boyfriend actually wrote that he can’t wait to (please hold me, but not too tightly) SPOON with me. SPOON. I’m sorry, but … GROSS. GROSS. GROSS. Since, Adam’s been teasing me repeatedly with the question, “Hey, do you want to spoon tonight?” And then I throw up on his shoes and run away.
I so married the right person, and thank God. No disrespect to those who feel differently, but I couldn’t be married to a person who wrote me LETTERS saying without irony how he couldn’t wait to spoon with me. HORK.
Happy Wednesday!
*U2!
24 comments December 16th, 2008