Version 2.0.1 (and Other Sundry Updates)

Well, hellooooo. Welcome back from the Strawberry Nightmare. I couldn’t take the pink anymore. Even though I am female and take pride in the blessings that come with being of the fairer sex, it made me feel too girlie, so I had to chuck it.

When I was deciding what the description would be, I thought I would just write, “Blue.” But I thought the reference to my overall state of mind would be a little too imposing on you, dear reader, and it would also demean the mood I have been in for the past week or so, which is decidedly not that blue. It’s more like the blue I used to have in my bedroom on Cashio Street and that was a good blue. I strive for that blue! Instead, I decided on the description you see, because this blue does, in fact, remind me of rubbing the belly of a blue toad, which I have never done, but which I can imagine doing with stunning palpability.

Oh yeah, so Tuesday I’m sitting on the edge of my tub, having just listened to Kelly tell me how awesome Obama’s speech was at the DNC while giving myself a pedicure, my mother happily ensconced on the C.O.S.O. (couch of sketchy origin) watching Two Weeks Notice, when I checked my voice mail. There was a message from Dr. Dennis F’s nurse, Nancy. The doctor was ill. My surgery would have to be rescheduled. My first thought was “I can’t believe how calmly I am taking this.” My second thought was, “Son of a bitch!” I said that to my mom. I said, “Son of a bitch!”

We made the requisite phone calls to all concerned parties and then I get a surprise phone call from my longtime friend, Vic, at almost 11 p.m. This is late for him. He works on a golf course and usually gets up at the ass crack of dawn.

The minute I hear his voice I think, “Laura (his wife and my good friend) has probably been riding his ass all day to call me.” When he speaks, his voice confirms “Laura was totally riding my ass all day to call you” and he says, “I just wanted to call and say good luck on your surgery.” And I say, “Well, I appreciate the call, but the surgery is canceled.” And he says, “Screw you, I’m going to bed!” Which made me laugh. And then we proceeded to have a giggly conversation for the next twenty minutes, complete with 3rd party participation from Laura, which served to dissipate all the disappointment (!), exhaustion, and worry that had been built up and left to dangle with the anti-climactic postponement of The Great Removal of the Bad Gall Bladder.

Old friends are always good for that stuff.

Sidenote: Two things I would like to share with you:

1.) Right now I am listening to a Grace Jones CD being played by my cubemate, who professed his admiration for her by saying, "She was the first Super Model who could do it all, you know? Dance, Sing, Model, Act..." I thought, yes, that's true, if that were "all" one aspires to do...still she lives up to her legend. I feel like a real music fan having a listen to this.

2.) But what makes me a TRUE music fan is that if I could figure out a way to marry the sound of The Edge's guitar, I would do it. And I would live happily ever after.