I have so much to do that at one point this weekend I think my brain shorted out trying to elucidate it all. It was frightening. I was like, I'm going to have to lie down on the floor because there is just no way I can do all of this stuff. Hence, a brain dump...some random stuff for you - or maybe just for me. Because who's it all about?
Nah.
Thank God the sickness seems to have gone mostly away. My parents are out of town, and I'm home watching my dog, who considers me SUCH a disappointment in contrast to them at this point that he's vaguely mopey and exhausted from the emotional stress when they're gone. He's the Emily Dickinson of Boston Terriers. So I was avoiding my math quiz (more on that gem later) and watching him exude malaise when the phone rang at 11:30, right after the shitty Emmy awards. My grandmother's assisted living. She fell out of bed. She felt dizzy. After clarifying that there were no apparently broken bones or gaping wounds, I told the spaced out nurse (I believe I might have said, "No I am not my father," in response to her excessive confusion about who she was talking to. Which, well, yeah.) to let me hang up and call her in her room so I could ascertain her state of affairs before we called in any kind of emergency situation. I called back. My grandmother answered the phone, totally whacked out (this is an 86-year-old person who goes to bed at 7 p.m. most of the time. Heavy REM at this point.)
"Yo. What are you doing?"
"Who are you? I fell out of the bed."
"It's Laurie. What'd you do that for? Are you okay?"
"Oh yes, oh yes. Oh, it's you. I was on the ground and I couldn't get NOWHERE (note: her grammar sucks outright for someone who knows better) so I just crawled along and finally just quit. I laid here and laid here. I couldn't even stand up!"
"You're only working with one functioning leg there, Grandma."
"I KNOW. BUT I COULDN'T EVEN STAND UP ON THE ONE LEG!"
Oh my hell. She hasn't stood up since 1997. She assured me in a half-choking-sob voice that "The girls were ALL AROUND HER", which could mean the Mandrell Sisters or the bibbity bobbity boo fairies for all the fuck I know. But I was satisfied that she was straight for the moment. I told her I'd call her tomorrow. I've gotten to the point where I can tell whether a hospital run is necessary.
Seriously? It made me feel lonelier than I already did, and I kind of felt lonely off and on like I haven't in a while. Blast it. There are people all around. It's good to have a break.
I rented too many dvds this weekend because I expected to be home more than I was. I watched "Year of the Dog" last night, in which Molly Shannon adopted twenty dogs and threw Laura Dern's fur coats in the bathtub, and Peter Sarsgaard played this fey, fanny-pack wearing, celibate dog trainer. That was upsetting. Leave my few nerdy hot men alone, please. It was sort of a mean-spirited movie, in spite of its considerable indie cred and good acting. It depressed me. Thank God I was already in a good mood from seeing "Death at a Funeral" earlier in the day, which was a riot. Really. So funny. I recommend it. There are some good movies coming out this fall. I can't wait for "Margot at the Wedding." I think I'd watch Jack Black in an Empire Carpet commercial, though. "Feast of Love" looks like it'll be good too.
I also watched the first two episodes of Big Love last night on dvd. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I really, really dislike the Chloe Sevigny character. Or maybe I just dislike Chloe Sevigny.
I drove up to a wine festival today to talk with a person who doesn't really want to be written about. It was worth it because the weather was just so gorgeous. We're gliding nicely into fall around here. I think it's nice. It's a beautiful time of year. The light makes me want to take pictures. I could have driven for a lot longer.
I wrote about women in religious communities who blog for my Blogher post today. I'm oddly fascinated with the topic. These women are writing some fantastic stuff. And it turns out that one nun I quoted in my post went to my high school, a few years behind me. Weird. She commented on the post and told me who she was, in a "small world" kind of moment. Life is strange.
Speaking of which, people have come upon my site via the following search words in recent days:
"too pooped to pump" (I don't think they mean gas.)
"boobs of my wife" - If you don't know where they are, I can't help you.
"lowkey, dark and tragic"
"ugliest 12 year old boy ever"- Is there a poll? I mean, how does one determine this? Seems pretty subjective to me.
And my absolute favorite of all search terms ever, I believe:
"i want to train my husband to be a girlyman and dress him in pink dress and heels how can i do this"
Come on, girl. This thought has entered your head and you don't know how to make it HAPPEN? Easy. You say, "Here. Put these on and get to work. And by the way, baby - pink really brings out the color of your eyes."
Seriously, someone came to my site by searching for this phrase. The hell? THE HELL? Does she think a tutorial exists for these specific parameters? Like, where would you start? The training part? Or the color-coordination? Or the shoe shopping? Freaks.
I just made myself laugh. Hard.
Speaking of happiness, there is triple chocolate ice cream in this house. I may or may not have eaten some to distract myself from Rainn Wilson's Emmy loss. OMG so TTLY AWSME. LOLZ. I rarely eat ice cream anymore. It's from Breyer's, white chocolate, dark chocolate and milk chocolate RIBBONS OF LOVELINESS. It is the most wonderful concoction ever. I think I might go accidentally eat some more.
Speaking of which, I accompanied some of my new people from school down to the Post (my seminar class that I LOVELOVELOVE. It's making it all worthwhile, seriously, all by its little old one-credit self) on the Metro on Friday. One of the girls says, "I hate chocolate. I'd rather eat Fear Factor food than chocolate." I just don't understand such talk.
I have to do a math quiz, which, if I don't pass it, will prevent me from receiving my degree. I think I can take it eight times until I do, but I'm not sure I can. Ratios? I can't do ratios, especially when they involve seven-figure numbers and tables and statistics. I've taught myself percent change, which isn't fun either, but I think I can swing that part. Math. Still haunting me, the math.
I think I'm going to go work on it some more. I can't believe it's Monday again. How does this happen?
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