Stay Back, it's Contagious

*cough* *splutter* *drags self to computer*

Good evening, one and all, and welcome to your scheduled weekly visit to She Squared. The management asks that you please remain seated, and at a safe distance, so as not to infect yourselves.

Yes, yes, we have man-flu. Both of us. All three of us, actually. Scott, not Alice! Oddly enough, "She who attracts every possible, and impossible disease" remains unaffected by the sinusitis and bronchitis that is slowly and noisily working its way around our house. Our house with no roof, I might add.





For anyone who tells you what an easy ride immigrants have of it, please refer them to their local pharmacy with a prescription and no insurance, which is where I spent Alice's college fund far too much money on antibiotics this morning. Then ask them, politely of course, to crawl into the nearest ditch and stay there.

Ungh Mruf Nuh, Hnrugh?

During the course of our wonderful vacation, I broke a tooth. If memory serves correct, I broke it on a burger. Or an egg. Or a donut. I forget which, but suffice to say, it was something soft (and yes, completely off the diet. Screw Ike: South Beach has hit our house again with a vengeance). So for the last four days, the jagged remains of one of my teeth has been ravishing my tongue. And not in that good way.

Today, I got in to see my wonderful dentists, at the 'oh-so-ironic' time of 2:30. Har-di-har. Now I hate dentists. Nothing against them personally, per se, but I have a completely rational fear of them, and the sharp, pointy things they like to torture me with. These guys are just amazing. Incredible. They almost make it a joy to go in for an appointment.

OK, so the Novocaine is still in my system, apparently. I'm delirious.

Almost immediately after I walk in the door, Nicole The Assistant comes out and ushers me into the chair. Dr K gives me 3 shots in the jaw, making me whimper each time. Yes, I'm a wimpy whimperer. Shut up. Nicole's adjusting the chair up a bit, down a bit, down a bit more, flying high...then she giggles. She says that they're supposed to talk to the patients when they move the chair, let us know what they're doing, but that she was having so much fun with me, she just wanted to see how much she could mess with me before I said anything.

Then she's cleaning up the instruments and breaks one, clear in half. The look on her face was priceless, as she realized I was watching. "You didn't see anything. Nothing happened," she giggled.

Mid-way through the best filling I've ever gotten (and believe me, I know fillings), Dr K grabs the needle again. Tools in my mouth, all I can do is whimper "Umf nungh muh!" to which Nicole replies "Don't worry, this isn't like the other needles; this one's to stop the blood."

Talk about a Gazelle in the headlights.

Then Rikki The Assistant wanders in and asks Nicole if she can bring her a coffee. "Medium, light and sweet" is her reply, to which I hold up two fingers, sending them all into fits. Despite all this, apparently they're onto my wily ways, and were talking about how calm I always am in the chair, despite the fact that I'm a quivering mess in the waiting room. Huh. Back again in two weeks, but I can't believe I've finally found a dentist that doesn't butcher me, and has a sense of humor. Hats off to you gals. There's coffee in your future, for sure.

Don't Drug-Text me

Today, my beloved Ligie had to go have an MRI. My sweetie has a little anxiety over closed spaces (such as airplanes...), so about three Xanax made their way into her system before she had to go into the cage. Her appointment was at 3:30, so by the time I got out of class at 5pm, they had firmly begun to knock her unconscious.

As is my usual plan of action, I was going to stop by Starbucks on the way home, so I called her to see if she wanted anything. The first phone call went unanswered, the second was answered by silence, and the third went to voicemail. At this point I just wanted to cover my butt in case she was awake when I got home with one coffee in hand, so I sent her a text. No answer, so one coffee it was.

When I finally arrived, my sweetie was laying on top of the bed, completely out cold. I'll leave out the part about the drool-covered pillow, so that we can all pretend that never happened.

Oops.

Alice was laying on top of her, cleaning her hair, so I grabbed Barb's cell phone to take a video of it, to show her later. It was open, and on it was the following message, mid-composition:

"Ohhkthcmds ilwj"

That was her response to me. My beloved passed out as she was writing it. In hindsight, I should be grateful, because while I speak drugged-Ligie, drugged-texting-Ligie is a little bit of a stretch. I have a feeling that had I given that to a barista, Barb would have got a half-caf-double-shot-three-pump-sugar-free-mocha-chip-latte. Hold the whip.

What Is Really In My Brain

The results from the many tests and probes of my doctors are in, and I wanted to share them with you all. I think it explains a lot.

A 'Normal' Brain


My Brain


Soooooo - as you can see by the diagrams of that part controls what, and what they actually found in mine, I'm pretty well damned. Oh well. Stay tuned for further results.