Monday Bear

So remember last March when I had to go to the ER because my mom found me passed out in the bathroom in a huge puddle of the products of my own various bodily functions? Welp, that happened again. And here I sit. Blogging. For you assholes.

Welp, this happened late Wednesday night, except my mom came in before I passed out. I think that this time was worse, but mom says that’s just because I can remember most of this time. I remember:
a. Being temporarily blind
b. Wanting to slit my wrists
c. Various fluids coming uncontrollably from a couple of my orifaces.

Oh, and I passed out in the bathtub.

I took a Phenargan that I had leftover from when this happened last year… the expiration date was 06/06, so I’m glad that I got sick now as opposed to next month.

Speaking of Phenargan, you know how some people pronounce things wrong, or say things a certain way, and it makes you want to poke yourself in the eye with the frilly end of a toothpick? That’s how it is with myself, my mother, and Phenargan.
Most of you know that although I love my mother very very much, she’s crazy and more annoying than Gilbert Godfrey without his Adderol. She does this thing where she tries to impress people with her pretend knowledge.
When it comes to medicine or the arts, this is what she does: She takes what I have taught her and pretends that -she- knows it all and -I- know nothing.

I keep telling her. It’s pronounced FEN-ar-gan. NOT FIN-uh-grin. It’s not making her look intelligent; it’s making the both of us look retarded.

OH MY. She’s on the phone and just said FIN-uh-grin. I corrected her. She said, “Lizzie, stop correcting me.”

Also, when she’s trying to impress other people, she acts like I’m the child. That would be fine if she wasn’t the child 80% of the time.

I need a break from her. Obviously.

So enough 14- year- old- goth- kid- i- hate- my- parents- blogging.

“Everything is better in neon.”
- Lia. From Omaha.

I was considering not mentioning her in this blog, because she forgot that I existed in a recent bulletin of hers. But I guess this is just the Mother Teresa in me.

Kind of like how I’m out of Dan’s top eight and he’s still my ..3. With his new virgin friends who don’t do drugs. Gah, Dan. What’s with you.

Myspace is a funny funny world.

So Wednesday, I went to the doctor… that’s right. I call him Jim : )
They did a blood test, and that came back normal.
After hours of coaxing and waiting, my urinalisys came back normal.

As soon as I walked into the lab, they handed me a cup and said, “Pee in this.” Let me tell you something. I haven’t peed in a cup since I was 4. These are the reasons it is difficult for me to pee in a cup.
a. Suprisingly, I don’t have a penis.
b. I can’t pee on command.
c. I was stressed.
d. I haven’t peed in a cup since I was 4, and I had my mommy in there holding the cup up to my chacha.

After about five awkward minutes of being in the bathroom on a toilet with a cup, I gave up. With my tail between my legs, so to speak, I walked back into the laboratory and said, “I can’t do it.” One of the nurses looked a bit annoyed, whilest the other’n said, “That’s okay, baby, we try it again after we stick you.”

(That works. I usually have to pee a few minutes after Matt sticks me.)

OH SNAP.

I’m sorry. That must have been disgusting for most of you.

So they got my blood, and I took my cup that read Suzanne to the Lab Bathroom. I sat. And I sat. I concentrated. I pushed. I turned the water on. I thought about niagra falls. I had two people behind the door, cheering me on. My mom handed me glass after glass of water through the half- opened door, and just couldn’t do it. Under all this pressure, I burst into tears.

I cried because I couldn’t piss in a cup. What the hell is wrong with me.

After literally 20 minutes later, I gave up. Someone said, “You don’t have to do it if you can’t.” Well geez. Why didn’t you say anything earlier. My mom said, “What’s wrong?” and I said, “Those mean asses are trying to make me do something I can’t do. If I can’t pee, I can’t pee.”

So doctor talked to me about my blood test and told me to take my cup and come back after I pee. I came home and lamented to Mattchew via phone. Finally, after 30 minutes to an hour, I peed. I only got to the second N in Suzanne, but that’s more than enough. I’ve done enough urinalyses to know : )

Long story short, my pee was normal.

But hey, at least we know I’m not pregnant. Michael.

So this morning, I had to go in for a gallbladder ultrasound. The dude who did it was beyond creepy. Anywho, he told me that my gallbladder was fairly normal. So who knows. I’ll have to go back for another ultrasound on my ladyparts to make sure I don’t have an ovarian cyst.

Isn’t that crazy?

I’m really proud of Alley Jo’s blogs.
“There is a time and place for raisins, and bread is not it.”

F parenthetical citations.

Matt’s really sick too. Poor kid : ( I’m glad his mommy has been taking care of him.
He watched this surrealist film about this infertile couple who adopted a tree stump.

Did you hear about that woman who was fired from the Catholic school because she got pregnant in vitro? They say the reason the Catholic church is against in vitro fertilization is because it takes sex out of marriage and childbirth.
Excuse me, but if you can’t have a kid through intercourse, you can’t have a kid through intercourse. I’m sure that just because they can’t have a child through sex doesn’t mean that they don’t have sex. That would be stupid. And if the Church is all about “the only reason for sex is new life,” then shouldn’t they be discouraging this infertile couple from having sex, since it would be just for pleasure only?

That’s why I’m no longer Catholic.

Well, not -just- for that reason. But that’s one of them.

They’ll condemn you for trying to have kids, and they’ll condemn you for trying not to have kids.

What a crazy mixed up world we live in.

And also, it’s things like that that give organized religion a bad name.
I’m a practicing Christian, and even though my lifestyle does indeed contradict the Christian teachings, nobody is perfect. This said, some chuches/ denomonations, “Christians” make me ashamed of my faith. People who did not grow up in a church or who just don’t believe are exposed to all of these closed minded fundamentalists, and -that’s- what they think Christianity is. These people are not Christians. When I tell people I am a Christian, they think, “Oh, one of -those-.”
Real Christians are accepting of other people’s beliefs or lack thereof.

Leaf: Leaves :: Belief: Beleives.
Not.
What a crazy mixed up world in which we live.

So I signed up for Wheel of Fortune.
I know, I’m crazy : )
But I watched it tonight, and it was Mom and Me week. I wish my mom and I knew about that. I get most of those puzzles right, so I think that being on the show would get me lots ‘o money for school and whatnot.
I know, I’m crazy : )
So I signed up for College Week, Best Friends Week, Family Week, and Sweethearts Week.
I signed up for the last one without consulting Matthew, so if said “sweetheart” is opposed to being on this wacky game show with me, I just don’t know what I’ll do. I guess I’ll just have to get Steve to be on it with me…
: )
As for Best Friends Week, I have 2 of those. I’ll just make them battle it out. With giant forks. That should be fun. To watch. I’ll wear a big hat. Maybe even sell tickets. At the TKTS stand in Times Square.

So I was thinking: What is Vanna White’s secret? How does she stay so young- looking? No wrinkles, perfect body, just as beautiful as she was a bazillion years ago when the show began. If I’m on the show, I’ll ask her. It’s probably Botox.
I’ve been considering Botox. I’m already getting a few wrinkles because I laugh all the damn time. Like, after I pay off my student loans. I don’t consider myself a vain person… Seriously, I don’t. No, really. But I just don’t want to be one of those women who gets married, squeezes out a few puppies, and says, “Welp, I’ve already ‘caught’ one, my job is done,” and blows up like a beluga whale. I just don’t want Matthew to have a fat ugly wife. He may end up looking like Mr. West, but that man will never ever get fat.

And just for the record, Mr. West is really hot for an old dude.

Especially in that vampire costume.

I’m really excited about Will and Grace. Steve and Holly and I are going to have a Will and Grace party, Pinot Noir and all. Matt is invited if he’s in town. He’ll probably just sit in the corner and make fun of us for liking Will and Grace. And talk about the weather.

So in conclusion, my mom might be moving to San Diego, and I’m moving to Nashville. One of these days.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 11th, 2006 at 4:58 PM and is filed under Awkward Scenarios, Babies, Family, Language, Nasty, Philosophy, Pooping, Secks, Television. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.