Clareified

Cause I really didn’t.

Des-parê (n)
Waking up in the middle of the night, blogging, watching the end of a Conan talk show on your roommate’s TV without sound (why do you not have your own TV? Well, when you were finally checked in on Tuesday, they told your mother you’d be having surgery that day and released on Wednesday. Oh. Well, why did you not get TV once it was very clear on Wednesday that none of that was going to happen? Well, I’ll use the classy language of Tom Dwan and explain that my mother’s reasoning there was “tricky.” Or for those of you who have always wondered…this is where I get my utter lack of an ability to alter course despite new information or changed circumstance and why Ron Lad will ever be circa 8/9 years old, so back off you crazy lady pedophiles.) Oh right I was setting a scene here…so anyway, you finally drift off to sleep after watching a few episodes of season four of the simpsons and when you wake up, the nbc news clock on your roomie’s TV says something absurd like 7:57 AM and you’re like what the focker? NO WAY is it 7:57 still…so you scoot up in bed, lean toward the TV and see that…why no, actually, it’s 7:07…eh, no…7:08. And so you lean back and wait for death. Thus endeth today’s definition lesson.

Test.
Ha, after that title, that’s all I should say and logoff. It would save me the humiliation of actually trying to write something coherent on my Treo and failing -either due to the bootleg Treo charger my mom’s friend bought from “this guy on 125th” street or because my brains are mush. I lost a post to the former yesterday…though since it was all about how they stuck a drain bag in my side after my surgery on Wednesday -while I was unconscious-yet some genuis decided to remove it at noon, you know, the height of my waking hours, you all might have thought the post’s failings was due to the latter. Gosh, I put the dichotomy so far away from the conclusion I forget what the choices were. Definitely a latter problem.
Well, yesterday was definitely the low point of my journey through the seedy medical underbelly. And considering that the journey starts with me half naked on my private bathroom floor holding on to the porcelain god of puke for dear life and includes a taxi cab ride to my mother’s house where I cruised a mile and a half with my head out the window, the driver handing me paper towels and hitting every pot hole in the ECB at nine mph, my proclamation of yesterday being the low…really is saying something. I called my mommy at 3 a.m., like any good pre-teen child to ask her to come get me, after the nursing staff was less than responsive to my “seriously people I have to go to the bathroom NOW” midnight call went unanswered for an hour. My doctor practically threw my spigmometer thing at me and said his 90-year-old grandmother could do better and “she’s been dead for a year and a half” and then my surgeon was all your oxygen saturation is “barely 80, if you don’t start walking and breathing into that spigmometer thing your going to die of pneumonia in here.” My throat was still pretty sore from the Wednesday night breathing tube and the midmorning barefoot hose down, but I rasped something about being unable to walk or breathe with a drain tube hanging out of my side. And we all know how that turned out.

A Yorkshire terrier was found dead in a washing machine Wednesday, the day after one of its owners hosted a party at a Nantucket home, police said.

Police believe the 8-year-old dog, estimated to weigh about 15 pounds, died when it was placed in a front-end washing machine and the machine was turned on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, said Detective Lieutenant Jerry Adams of Nantucket police.

He said a daughter of the family that owns the house on Cliff Road, where the party took place, called police at 2:50 p.m. Wednesday and said she found the dog in the machine.

Can’t you just picture how this went down? Everyone is dancing around, the floored is littered with empty liquor and beer bottles, someone accidentally kicks the plug from the wall, music stops.
“Now, what?”
Says a partygoer.
“Put the dog in the telly?” queries another.
“That’s daft, man. Dog can’t go in the telly…but…”

via Karol

There isn’t anyone slaving away in NYC’s high rise buildings that doesn’t know about seamlessweb. I don’t remember exactly when they were introduced, but I think I was still a junior associate at Old LLP — so maybe around 2003. It’s a great online food delivery service that offers hookups to all the restaurants in your area. You can get chinese or thai or burgers, on any given day, all through one website. It was pretty cool. I wish they’d hurry up and get to my neighborhood, so I could order from home, as well, as work.

“I mean I don’t know how to not have fun. I’m dying and I’m having fun. And I’m going to keep having fun every day I have left. Because there’s no other way to play it,” he said in his Carnegie Mellon lecture. “You just have to decide if you’re a Tigger or an Eeyore. I think I’m clear where I stand on the great Tigger/Eeyore debate. Never lose the childlike wonder. It’s just too important. It’s what drives us.”

Youtube his video if you haven’t seen it. Good stuff. I think I’ve always been a Tigger hiding out in Eeyore’s body.

What else have I been up to?

Don’t you realize dumb baby names are only for the famous?

New Zealand children have been given names such as Number 16 Bus Shelter, Violence and Benson and Hedges(twins).

The girl’s lawyer told the judge she was so embarrassed by her name she refused to reveal it to friends.

via Michael

Casca’s comment below seems to indicate the commenting issue is fixed…for all you lurkers here is your chance to give something back to the blog that has given you…um…not that much. So much thanks to Yaron for taking my four a.m. plea email and working his magic. I’m still not able to blog from mozilla, but he says that may be a space issue. Small steps. Why I am up at this unholy hour when I was also up at 4 a.m. is a question for another day. Hopefully one where I had more sleep.

Anyway, comment away, how about we do a yes/no on did Edwards really father a baby with another woman? I say nay because believe you me, I so would have been his baby mama and yet, he didn’t even so much as reply to any of my emails or myraid drooling posts.

New York is inconvenient. It makes you work a little harder. It forces you to interact—with taxi drivers, street musicians, people riding the subway, people talking on cell phones, people talking to themselves. With life. I love it. Unconditionally.