ANGRY BUTT

I finally went to the doctor after getting nauseous for the second time since I strained my neck. In her infinate wisdom she told me to:

- stop straining my neck (um, yeah, thanks)

- no more reading in bed (well, hell)

- not to use the elliptical machine at the rec (hopefully as in "just until this heals", not as in "forever", because the bike hurts my bum)


Then she gave me a prescription for 800mg Ibeprophin and shot me. Or rather had me shot.

In the ass.

With a big ole needle.

That sumbitch STUNG. And it was completely okay when I was walking but the second I stopped to chat with the clerk at the receptionist area, hot damn did my ass light on fire. And not even in the same area I got shot. It hurts about an inch below that area, but believe you me that area is bruised. It was supposed to be a muscle relaxer but HAH. I have them fooled. It would take a horse traquilizer to relax me.

Now all I have is a sore head and an angry butt.

IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN, RIGHT? RIGHT?!

Man Friend was meandering around my room, picking up his clothes and haphazardly shoving them into his knapsack. He reached for his phone charger, yanking the phone from the end of it's tether, and whipping the cord toward my leg.

"YOU LEFT A WELT, ASSHOLE."

And he did.

So I came at him with a hairbrush, whacking at his butt with abandon.

"Don't make me go for the ice."

I squealed in faux terror and ran for the cup that once contained ice AND water and quickly threw the lone remaining ice cube into my mouth.


***


Previous to the packing and the welts, Man Friend had requested I fetch him a glass of ice water. I did and what resulted was pinning me to the ground and dripping melting ice onto my skin. Including rubbing the ice cube down the back of my pants.


***


"You realize that ice cubes been in your butt crack?"

I spit it at him.

I ate an ass cube. I feel sick.

DON'T LEAVE ME HANGING

Read me.

EDIT: Because I thought of a WAY cooler title than the old one. See? It's a pun. Get it? Well you would if you read the link you lazy bastards!

COMING TO GRIPS WITH THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER

I pulled a muscle in my neck on Saturday.

I did it again last night.

I, apparently, should not hold my head at a certain angle. I tried to explain to Boy Roommate and his Not Girlfriend how this situation all started (my jaw muscles clenched from chewing a piece of gum into concrete) but they thought there might be another root cause. They are just so very funny.

ANYWAY, since this all started, I've been fighting a headache. And by fighting I mean whining. It wasn't bad. More of a dull ache than anything substantial. I'm of the mindset that I don't take any pills of any kind unless life will cease to exist without them. And while a dull ache is annoying, life was bound to go on.

Until last night.

I have NEVER had a headache that bad in my entire life, and I've hit my head QUITE a few times. (Shut it, you. And to be perfectly honest, this was the worst headache I actually REMEMBER having. Others might have been worse, but they've been washed away by the concussion that followed or the mere haziness of youth.)

For a moment I thought I might have meningitis but a quick trip to WebMD knocked me off THAT hypocondriac bandwagon and back into the far more rational rhelm of pulled neck muscle and that sumbitch HURTS! I mean damn. It's one thing to hurt where I pull you. But it is another thing ENTIRELY to wrap your greedy self around my head like a blanket and turn me into a pill-popping, whiney, little bitch.

I DO NOT NEED HELP IN THAT AREA.

I could not keep my eyes open last night as I BEGGED my nursing student roommate to kill me. Instead, she gave me permission to chase my Advil with two more Tylenol. I then laid down and willed sleep to come quickly. That or death. Whichever made my head stop hurting first.

I've continued this pill concoction into today.. twice.. and I plan to do it again. My mother suggested I go to the doctor, which is probably the smartest idea, but I'm afraid whatever I did is going to require a specialized doctor and I don't know if my insurance will cover that. So for now, I whine.

JUST ONE OF HIS MANY MAD SKILLZ

"Boy Roommate has a cold."

"Are you sure it's a cold?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, it could be the AIDS."

"..."

"Or it could be the Bubonic plague. Or nipple cancer."

"It is so wrong that that's funny. And he does not have any of those."

"Are you doubting my diagnostic abilities?!"

"Yes."

"What?! I am good friends with a doctor! I even know someone who has BEEN to the doctor. I am a wealth of medical knowledge."

"Boy Roommate will be happy to hear that."

"Good thing for Boy Roommate, not only do I diagnose, I also prescribe, though it's doubtful that he'll go for my go-to fixer-upper."

"Oh no."

"That's right. Uncle Man Friend's protein injections."

"That is more than just a little creepy."

"It'll cure what ails you."

"Hah."

"Two a day keeps the doctor away."

"Okay, you're done."

UPON SEEING A SIGN THAT SAID...

"Old school child care? What do they do? Beat them?"

"That is the exact same thing I thought the first time I saw that sign."

IT'S TRAGIC, REALLY

You want to know something pathetic? I CANNOT make a good pot of coffee, and I was a barista. FOR THREE YEARS.

T-H-R-E-E.

3.

1+1+1.

Oh, and don't you even go off on me about how pretentious the people who call themselves baristas are because they are just too cool and it has everything to do with the name and they think they are so much better than you because they were a barista, MAN FRIEND, because you have ALREADY made me cry ONCE (VERY early on in our relationship) over that and I am soooo not in the mood.

And why might you ask am I soooo not in he mood?

DEADLINES! And the people who ignore the ones I give them! (Oh, I segwayed the HELL out of that bitch)

I do not care if your program is our version of a media darling. Those babies are there for a reason. I will not put up with your shit. You promised me this stuff YESTERDAY, which, might I kindly point out, was the day AFTER it was due you. obnoxious. cow.

"Oh, but he was stressing over getting it done."

I HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR YOU. Your lateness causes me stress AND! (oh, and) it make me look unprofessional which, when it comes to being on deadline, I am not. YOU HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THIS DEADLINE FOR A MONTH, NANCY (yes, I just called a man Nancy). Since it seems to take you so long, maybe you should get started on the next deadline! They happen EVERY. TWO. MONTHS. They have happened EVERY. TWO. MONTHS. since you started this job. It is really no surprise I'm asking for this stuff now. Do not EVEN act like I'm being demanding. Because I can be worse. DO NOT PUSH ME, NANCY!

Fin.

MORE THAN SLIGHTLY FRUSTRATED

You know what the biggest pain in the ass is when looking for a job? All of these damn places requiring more years experience than I have. I MATCH EVERY OTHER EFFING CRITERIA! But I will probably be overlooked because two of the jobs I applied for? 3-5 years experience. The one I applied for tonight? 5-10! Gah!

HAH! IF ONLY

Me: "My mom accused me that having wild sex was the cause of the holes in my air mattress. I had to tell her that Man Friend was NEVER HERE when any of the holes happened."

Boy Roommate: "You know what that means, right?"

Boy Roommate's NOT Girlfriend: "Whore."

BLANK

I don't have anything nice to say about myself so I'm not going to say anything at all.

SAID TO (OR IN FRONT OF) MY MOTHER

"So she called me and pointedly asked me how my PIERCINGS were doing. So I told her my ears were fine but my nipples were killing me."

"Sounds more like something I would do to her."

***

"You are 25 years old! I should not have to tell you to swallow!"

***

"I think he's cute."

"Who? Your dad?"

"...Not exactly."

WHILE PLAYING CATCH PHRASE

Guy 1: "What my penis is."

Guy 2: "Small!"

Guy 3: "Dude, why would you set yourself up for that?"

***

Guy 2: "Stiff?! The answer was stiff?! How was I supposed to get stiff? Does playing Catch Phrase turn him on?"