Triage Me Now!

Saturday morning: I stub my left pinky toe on the foot of the bed. I curse (as per usual) and proceed to go about my day.

Later Saturday morning: Bruno, the lug, that he is, in a fit to see what I am looking at through the window, tromps (if that's not a word, I don't care, it is apropos) on the toe I stubbed on the foot of the bed Saturday morning.

Saturday midday: Wilson and I meet Mike at PetSmart on Yarbrough to look at a dog we might adopt.

Later Saturday midday: Wilson and I and Mike go to the Animal Control Center because the dogs at PetSmart were not what we were looking for. We find a cute little Shepherd/Hound mix.

Saturday afternoon: Wilson and I and Mike go to the PetSmart on the West Side to see if they have any puppies. No puppies there so we decide to go eat at Super China Buffet.

Later Saturday afternoon: Wilson and I and Mike go back to the Animal Control Center to adopt the cute little Shepherd/Hound mix.

Early Saturday evening: Wilson and I and Mike go back to the house in Horizon City where I take off my shoe. My toe is about double its original size and the color of a ripe cherry. I decided that I should probably remove my toe ring.

Saturday night: We decide to take me to Hospital to see if my toe is broken as I'm finding ever more difficult to walk and can't bend my toe.

Later Saturday night: We're at the hospital.

Later later Saturday night: We're still at the hospital.

Early Sunday morning: We're still at the hospital.

Later early Sunday morning; I finally get to an exam room.

Slightly later early Sunday morning: I get up to go pee.

30 seconds later than slightly later early Sunday morning: The doctor comes to my exam room.

20 minutes after the 30 seconds later than slightly later early Sunday morning: The doctor comes to my room to tell me that my toe isn't broken, I should stay off of it and gives me a prescription for Vicodin.

15 minutes after that, I pay my $100 copay and am wheeled out of the hospital (Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!)

2:30 A.M. I scarf down a #6 combo from Wendy's and go to bed.

All in all, I guess it's a good thing that I got it checked out. I got to go to the brand spanking new hospital in El Paso and can now tell people that the service there sucks.

Waxing Nostailgic

In an effort to avoid A) the 104 degree temperature outside and the B) oppressive pile of laundry I'm choosing to ignore, I decided to reactivate my Facebook account.

To be honest, I got the Facebook bug when I had lunch with my dear friend Angie on Wednesday. Or Thursday. I totally don't remember when it was. I do remember I enjoyed our time thoroughly and I had a yummy pizza at Ardovino's. Flash forward to Sunday and here I am, writing a blog about how I just reactivated my Facebook account. I thought I would have to start from scratch but when I tried to create a new account I was reminded, in a quick flash of "nothing dies on the internet," that my old profile was archived and I could reactivate it. I did and was greeted with my old page (cosmetically new) but right where I left it. It was an eery culturally anthropological view into my life in 2006. I was at Dartmouth, I was 28 and according to the umpteen "Happy Birthday" wishes on my wall, I had just had a birthday.

Either way it was just a weird thing to experience on a random Sunday in June. I'm looking forward to all the time I don't have but will spend catching up on stalking everyone with whom I used to be familiar and then feeling satisfied that I have a current relationship with those people based on the fact that I read their news feed.

Happy Summer, bitches!