Bethalou

Last night I had a dream that my friend got mad at me for being upset about some sort of betrayal. Then he left on a canoing trip with my family and Amanda and her siblings. I tagged along in hopes getting him to forgive me (what!). The goal of the trip was to get as many animal pelts as possible. He was shooting them with Nerf darts. He shot across the lake and lost all his little foam darts, so I swam all the way across to retrieve them. It was a nice, invigorating swim until I was surrounded by a bunch of dead, floating beavers. Once I got to shore, I found everyone counting up pelts. There were beavers, leopards, and tigers. And there was a living raccoon that someone was holding that actually had a black cloth mask on. Then there were about ten baby beavers, also alive, that people were collecting because each baby could naturally say one word. They were collecting them because they wanted to make the baby beavers say a sentence. One of the baby beavers could say “that!”, but he corrupted the other baby beavers, making them infatuated with the word “that”. So we were surrounded by a bunch of baby beavers adorably yelling “that!”
and then I woke up.

I’ve been sick– vomiting, gastronomical events… you know, a general inability to keep what’s mine mine. Well, after 7 days of this, La Doctora said get a CT Scan, so I did. CT scans are nothing like I thought. First, you have to drink half a gallon of this chemical-what-tastes-like-shit (mind you, I haven’t had so much as a glass of water stay in my stomach for quite some time now). Downing that thing was a struggle, and keeping it down for the duration of the test was a triumph of will. Next, you get an IV from a lady who tells you, “Okay, now you’ll begin to feel really warm all over; you’ll get a metalic taste in your mouth; and you’ll feel like you’re peeing your pants, but you’re not”. And lo, it happens exactly as fortold. Then begins the spinning. Not you, but the giant cast-iron hoop surrounding your body. It begins to shake. A stern, disembodied male voice tells you to “BREATH IN…and HOLD IT”. The gyrating hoop begins to scan you and you find yourself faced with a bright red laser to the eye. There is a itty-bitty sign underneath that says in fine lettering: “Do not look directly at the light”. “BREATH”. repeat. This is a CT scan.

Then I threw up all over a grocery store. But that is a story for later.

I am feeling much better this week, so don’t worry or anything. I just like to tell war stories.

I’ve been learning many new words in preparation for the GRE. My favorite today is excoriate. To flay verbally.

Now, I’m usually fairly positive and well-mannered. One could even say mild.  But I desperately want to excoriate someone. Someone who isn’t a politician or administrator. Not someone who holds silly philosophical views. I want  to verbally flay someone for a personal offense. So, beware. I’m ready to excoriate.

In other news, I’m anxious about this test.

In other news. I went to a concert! I real live concert with a stamp on one hand and a drink in the other. I danced and clapped and hippity hopped around like all the other cool kids. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists and the A-effing-adorable-Sides, thank you for a lovely experience.

Today I saw too much gray boy underwear. Boy with so much underwear drinking water from a fountain–you could wear longer shirts. You could wear higher pants. You could wear shorter underwear.

Meredith and I are beginning to school ourselves in the art of picking up women by reading The Game. The book looks like a Bible. It’s sad and funny and I kind of want to try it.

Dith is obsessed with the Monster Mash. The song is becoming a paradigm for my life. My life= a graveyard smash. ooowahh.

“A man needs a little madness or else he never dares to cut the rope and be free.” -Nikos (dear dear Nikos) Kazantzakis