Hilariously Bad Things That Happen Sometimes

This past week sucked. You may or may not have noticed the reverberation of this suck-age by my tardy post. That’s OK if you didn’t. Anyway.

An incident happened last Monday. I had asthma as a kid and I was really scared I’d re-triggered it by moving to a new place with tons of allergens and radioactive waste oozing from the canyon walls. Like any normal person, I ask my doctor about this. She says sure, we’ll get you an asthma test. Great. I go to the test and it seems pretty simple. I blow into a tube, I imbibe some drugs, I blow into the tube again. The trick was with the middle part. As I start the nebulizer the nurse kindly warns me that some people feel shaky as a side effect of this medication. I ask her if it is a similar side effect to pseudoephedrine. 

She says she doesn’t know.

OK, first off…WHAT. This is your job. Your job is to know. She was a nice lady and all, but WHY DON’T KNOW YOU KNOW THIS, IT IS VERY IMPORTANT. The reason why it is very important is that within 10 minutes of leaving the office, I started to have a panic attack. Not a “where the hell did I park the car, what if I can’t find it?!” kind of thing. An honest to blog panic attack. It was damn serious.

And I couldn’t stop it. Because it was chemically triggered.

For five hours.

Fortunately, I already have a group of friends here in the LOtH who took fairly adequate care of me. I kept myself among people so I was safe. But it sucked. Good Panda talked me down some and we worked out which movies to get from library before they closed (Chocolat, Hairspray and Broadway’s Lost Treasures…the one with Angela Lansbury playing Mrs. Lovett and Joel Grey doing Cabert). She also suggested I might be allergic to this medicine and just include it as an allergy from now on. I love her.

I watched Hairspray because “You’re Timeless to Me” as sung by John Travolta to Christopher Walken is one of the best duets in history. But I conveniently forgot the bit where they have a protest, in Baltimore, about race relations. Hahahahahaha.

A couple days later, I had a girls’ night at my place. It was great. I made my famous (infamous?) hot chocolate with Frangelico and other delicious ingredients. We painted our nails with highly toxic polish and talked about sex. Y’know. Girl things. One of my new friend’s in town had recently said, “Now I’m a fluffy girl, but this girl…she was obese” in the context of one of her stores. Naturally, our group has now become

Fluffy Girls’ Cuntlove Club

I am making a banner. The word "fluffy" is going to be made out of soft cottony stuff and I’ve decided anything that alludes to a vagina on my banners from now on is going to be made with mauve silk and stuffed on the inside.

The next day, I saw one of the girls from our club and her nail polish was gone. I was so sad that she didn’t like the color. :< Turns out, the nail color had eaten through the top coat and bled onto her only pair of white sheets. And her face. She, rightly, had removed the polish immediately, but some of the color lurked around the edges of her nailbeds like a tiny little bit of leprosy. Me and my $1.39 nailpolish win again.

Other things that happened this week:

•   I got a vacuum that works. Now I can have people over.
•  I got two bowls carved out of stone. They are pretty!
• Partner Penguin and I saw Avenue Q. This town doesn’t have enough black men to even pretend to have an actor to play Gary Coleman. They also used PhD robes for the wedding scene because people here think that’s proper wedding attire.
•    I have made devious, but not nefarious plans which will soon come to pass.

The end for this week!