it's too late...

I feel like I need to post because it's been so long, so here's my terrible effort. I admit to being energized to post this morning and losing that energy as the day wore on and my sneezes got closer together. Now my head and face are tight and I'm not happy. But here's my post:

Most of last summer I wore nothing but skirts and two pairs of longer shorts. I just had a 10 line IM conversation with my sister about what I should call the shorts. Answer? Not culotte (I was misinformed). Bermuda shorts. And if you're curious, you should wikipedia "shorts". Back to the point. I wore shorts and skirts. I loved the skirts especially and so decided that this year I wanted to branch out into dresses. And let me tell you, the sun dress hunt has been amazingly difficult. I saw one million. Tried on twenty. And bought two (pictures at end of post). That's a bit sad, yes? I guess I'm starting my dress campaign small.

The last part of the campaign was to find the right shoes. And honestly, I wrote this whole boring post just so I could tell you how much I love these shoes. They kick ass (we'll see about comfort, but I think they'll fail there). Expect to see a lot of these shoes:

The weird appointments continue...

There was Wednesday's appointment, where I discussed shaving my head with my hair stylist (conclusion: I have the head for it. Do I have the balls?). At that appointment my head was not only felt like a melon (squeezed and fondled) but laser eyed by the stylist next to me.

Then today...at my gynecologist...the walls in the exam rooms were thin and I heard a fairly interesting conversation next door (while in my "all together"). My doctor was in there with a patient (I have been to that doctor quite a bit and could recognize her voice through any wall). I only was able to hear snippets, but it all started with my gynecologist saying: I understand that you're upset with me.

I heard other random pieces that I can't remember at the moment and it all ended up with my doc telling this girl that she would recommend other doctors. Somewhere in the middle I became fairly convinced that it was a pregnancy revelation gone awry that was likely ending in abortion doctor recommendations. Either that or a cancer revelation that was poorly handled.

And I saw the girl in the elevator bank afterwards (I can only guess it was her...she went in before me and looked like she had been crying). And I felt awkward.

The walls should really be thicker at the gynecologist.

That will be all in appointment weirdness for months and months...

Today's appointment that ended weirdly...

Dentist: You're entertaining. I hope you get 100 cavities and are here all the time.
Me: Please no.
Dentist: Yes. 100 cavities. (pulls ponytail. touches shoulder)
Me: (giggles. kicks him in the shin)

Obviously none of those actions happened (but the conversation is word for word...and there was a shoulder touch). But if I had a ponytail, he would have pulled it. And I felt like giggling and fake punching him or something. Ah, school girl crush...makes the day (and the tooth work) that much brighter.

We also chatted about the amazing tongue attachment I have. And how he had his cut (just typed cute...freudian slip) while he was in dental school. And, don't I hate being tongue tied?

Whenever I talk about the tongue thing with my mom, this is the conversation we have:
Mom: I thought your sister was the one that was tongue tied.
Me: Nope. Definitely me.
Mom: No, it was your sister. As a kid. Definitely your sister.
Me: Mom! Look at my tongue. It was me. How can you even argue it?
Mom: No. Your tongue is clearly stunted, but it was her.
Me: !

But I digress. I do hate being tongue tied. While it has provided me with extra control over my tongue muscles thus giving me a "stupid human trick", it is also maddening.

So now I decide whether or not to contact a periodontist and go through this whole painful thing, just so my tongue is more useful. Plus, it costs a lot of money. Maybe my "economic stimulus" money....

In which I am asked to save the world...

Today I was asked to be a hero and save the world. Or be totally irrelevant and, in the act, risk possible neurological issues. These two conclusions come from the same action.

At the dermatologist (I go yearly, mostly because melanoma hates my family) I was "approached" by my doctor to participate in one of her colleagues' vaccine trials. They are testing a vaccine for small pox. And while you may be saying to yourself "small pox was eradicated", you, my friend, are wrong. Because, geniuses that we are, there are two specimens of the virus in the world. One in the US and one in GB (and something about Russia? Her story meandered). It's clearly not fool proof storage because at one point the virus "escaped" and killed someone in GB. The government and scientists are trying to "head off" any possible biological warfare in case the virus is stolen. Because it could be leaked and kill boatloads of people. Doesn't that sound like it's sort of possible someone already stole it? It all boils down to terrorism and biological warfare.

So, why approach me about the drug trial? Because it's entirely likely that I have eczema. And people with eczema? Not supposed to have the vaccine because bad things can happen. So while you all are being saved from biological weapons, I will likely die because my skin is not good. True story. Wikipedia it.

In the end, it sort of comes down to...do I think it's necessary to participate and save the world (and self, since I'll be vaccinated), risking ruined skin and possible brain injury? Or do I think that small pox will not be stolen/used against the US therefore making the brain injury/ruined skin a stupid, unnecessary risk?

Self vs. community. I'll get more info down the line, when the trial passes some ethics commission, but I don't think it's out of character for me to say - fuck that, let small pox kill you all.