Those dark spots in the distance are where it's raining in the distance...
AND.
I just left the ER.
I had a bladder infection...
so I got my beaver fixed in Beaver!!
(now I'm at the hotel, so I shall continue the post with a real keyboard...)
Friggin hilarious.
It was not, however, much of a laughing matter to be cruising through deserted desert wasteland with the urgent need to pee hovering over me like a death star.
Fucking body.
Which reminds me...one of the great lines of the day was when we were listening to Bon Jovi and my husband said, "I love fucking Bon Jovi."
I chortled.
And then I said, "Really? You enjoy that, do ya?"
The second funniest thing he said today was when he was on the phone with one of his bosses and they were disucussing some upcoming implementation or something, and I hear, "Well I'll keep my noodle on it all weekend, and we'll talk on Monday."
I laughed, hard and short; loudly.
And then quietly spoke, "I thought you were going to keep your noodle on ME all weekend!"
Wooooooooooo
EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Good times.
Jokes with/about husband: good times.
Having the incessant urge to pee, while knowing that peeing will only make the pain increase exponentially: baaaaaaaad times.
I even went so far as to stop on the side of the freeway and climb down over a dusty and snake-hole riddled embankment to pee.
PEE.
yes, I'll say it at least 43 more times, so watch the fuck out.
You're getting no apologies, either, so bite me.
The cool part about the freeway-pee (far less kinky than its rhyme, "three-way pee") was that a whole herd of little jack rabbits scampered off at our approach!
Aw...come back, bunnies!
So then we stopped at this one bathroom and my husband spent 15 minutes or so checking his email.
I used that bathroom THREE times while we were there.
Three.
But...
praise jesus, buddha, the awesome hindu guy with all the arms (sorry I don't know his/its name...), and even the non-terrorist-affiliated Allah for Aleve.
Aleve, oh, Aleve.
You alleviate my bladder's ache,
you alleviate the jagged edges of a day,
why did no one tell me you are the OTC valium?
Oh, how I love thee, Aleve my sweet!
Or something.
Seriously, that shit saved my life.
The best part, of course, was that when we pulled off in a lovely little jerk-off town called Beaver to use the bathroom, there was a sign for a hospital.
I said, "fuck it. my doctor's not calling me back, I might as well just go to the ER and get a prescription."
So...while the urethra is not technically "beaver"...
I still cannot resist saying I got my beaver tended to in Beaver.
Hey, guess what?
Pee.
Ok, so there was this old lady waiting in the waiting room with us,
and she was telling her friend about her new tattoo.
She said she got a seashell on her inner thigh.
yeah...
when you put your ear to it, you can smell the ocean!
HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Oh, come on, that was funny.
And probably less offensive than the whole PEE thing.
Pee.
I am going to marry a bottle of Aleve.
Or at least buy one.
Oh, that reminds me of a cool story I started writing (in my head) about a Russian mail order bride.
Only, she isn't one. She just feels like one.
Oh, fuck off.
It'll be cool.
Trust me.
Hey.
I love you guys.
Me AND my pee--we love you.
Oh, yeah one more thing--
all that stopping to PEE and going to the ER for help in solving issues with my PEE,
made us miss the first play.
Quite disappointing and stressful, but I guess it'll work out ok.
Imagine pee for you, and pee for me,
no matter how they toss the dice, I had to pee,
so painful together!
Ok, enough songs about pee.
I think I'm going to become a pee fetishist.
Or maybe I just want the google hits for that one!
haaaaaa!!!
Fuck, man.
I don't ever want to pee again.
Thank the lord for drugs.
And doctors who ask really funny questions.
The poor dude next to me (two of us in this whole row of like 4 or 5 beds, and we are adjacent. Why??) got grilled about the exact GPS location where he received his injury.
He fell off a trailer while unloading a couch.
The doctor kept pressing him, sounding suspicious--or romantically interested.
It was really fucking weird.
"At my Dad's place, out by _____"
"Oh, where at?" (niiiice. even the doctors have shitty grammar here.)
"About 19 miles out, near the highway blah blah turn off."
"Oh yeah? Where?"
(me: jesus tittie fuckin' christ, just move on already, the dude's suffering!)
"about 5 miles out."
"Oh? Back this way?"
"No, east of here."
(god DAMN! move on!)
Gave him shit for starting smoking at 30 years old, too.
Which I can agree with, but still--wtf??
It was weird.
Not as weird as the 20 minutes or so while we both waiting for the cute old man to come and pass us along to the next phase of our treatment (x-rays for him, prescriptions and out the door for me).
We were so close together, separated by a thin curtain.
Each rustle of the paper covering the bed was like thunder, each painfully drawn breath was a gust of wind.
Ok, maybe there was just a storm moving in...
ha.
No, it was intense.
I wanted to speak to him, through the curtain.
Talking takes your mind off the pain, well "mine" I should say.
He sounded hot.
He also sounded younger than the 40 he turned out to be.
Such proximity caused us to have unintentional eavesdropping.
He flew a plane from wherever he was and took one of his father's ranch trucks that he keeps at the airport.
Wuh--?
Becky, Justin, do you natives have any friggin idea what that's about?
I'm assuming the "19" I heard may have been "90" or something.
I know farmers have airplanes sometimes for crop dusting and whatnot.
Just seemed odd to me.
Anyway.
I feel much better now...
It was as if someone had turned me into a newt.
At least my kids are having fun with their cousins.
And tonight's play is "Antony and Cleopatra", at an outdoor replica of the Globe Theatre.
Good thing it's been spitting rain at us, and taunting us with more...
it'll be an adventure!
I love it.
good night.
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