Through The Looking Glass

Good news! Anyone following the Saga Of My Cervix will know that I had displasia (abnormal cells) and had surgery about a year and a half ago to remove it/them. On Monday I went in for a Pap smear and today I got a phone call that the lab results came back and everything is normal.

Party in my pants!

Last night while laying in bed in that pre-sleep state that tends to haunt us for a period of time anywhere between one minute and five hours, Will and I had an interesting conversation.

Here’s how it went: Will named all of the things I do that make him angry. I defended myself as best I could. We decided which things I would no longer do.

Because we were tired, we only covered two of my various and sundry behaviors that bother him:

• Summoning elder gods in the living room: I have agreed, reluctantly, to stop doing this. It seems that the main problem is not the elder gods themselves, nor even the summoning, but the sticky mess that is left afterwords. I told him that I was going to clean it up, and if he had just left it alone I would have done so eventually, but does he listen? No. So no more playdates with Cthulu for me.

• Putting curses on his mother: We left this one at a draw. He says that it will come back to bite me in the ass, I say that at 58 none of the curses I inflict on her will be really noticeable. I mean, her skin is going to sag a little anyway, right? And what’s a little insanity at that age? Still, I suspect that he will win in the end.

Before all that, I tried to eat his cockles. He thanked me for something-or-other from the bottom of his heart; I just wanted a wee taste. Honestly – he is so oversensitive.

Wil Wheaton dot net

Will (that’s Will with two ells) told me to update my blog, so here I go. Unfortunately, I have absolutely nothing to say. I’m really sorry. In an attempt to make up for it, I offer you this. I personally prefer to make my own, but the generator is lots of fun.

Which reminds me, I need to find the Hate Mail Generator. That thing is priceless.

In conclusion, legalizing gay marriage is necessary in order for our country to live up to its mission statement.

The end.

I discovered the other day (via CowardNet) that I am linked to on a blog by someone I don’t know. That’s kind of neat. I confess, my first thought was along the lines of Who the hell is this person? Why didn’t she at least send me a note letting me know that she was linking to me? My second thought, about three seconds later, was something like But maybe I do know her! Think, Annika, think! Who is she?

Then I realized that it is just fucking cool either way.

Whoever she is, everyone should send her some good mojo. It sounds like she could use it. And if anyone can tell me who she is and whether I know her, that would be great. I do tend to obsess over the little things.

I am 25 and I just got the first sunburn of my adult life. I look awful in these pictures, and not because of the burn. I had just woken up. Please ignore my face.

As a special bonus, there are also some photos of the beauteous CassyLee dancing in a stunning red dress, and a picture of the runner we bought from the craft area at the fair.

If every weekend could be as fabulous as this one, I wouldn’t mind being burned. I am, after all, Sicilian – it will be a tan by tomorrow afternoon.

I was under the impression that BlogThis! was a feature of the new google toolbar. I have the old google toolbar, and BlogThis! is elsewhere on my browser thingummy. This isn’t a problem, I am just overwhelmed by technology, or something.

I don’t drink beer. I don’t like it. For one thing, it’s carbonated, which I find to be utterly disgusting. I also do not drink soda of any kind, or champaign, or…anything else that is carbonated.

But the reason that I hate beer is not because I dislike drinking it. I hate it because it is inconvenient to not drink it.

Take tonight, for example. (I know it says it’s Friday, but I am still awake from Thursday.) We went to Jenn’s for dinner, which was lovely. She and Will drank Shiner Bock, I drank apple juice. I love apple juice, and wouldn’t have wanted alcohol anyway, because my head hurt.

By the time dinner was over, my head felt better. While we were eating, Alan had called Will to remind him that tonight Nova (not New York Nova, LA Nova – I know, what are the odds?) was having a birthday party at some bar. (I can’t remember what it’s called. It was nice.) Because we love Nova (she is So Fucking Hot), and she had specifically requested our presence, we drove over to say howdy. Will asked me what I wanted to drink; I froze. I often order a Maker’s Mark on the rocks at bars, because I like bourbon and can sip it leisurely. But I didn’t want bourbon. So I asked for a margarita – rocks, salt. It was taking a chance, as approximately 97% of bartenders cannot make a decent margarita to save their own skin, but it was what I wanted. It was delicious, and I finished it much more quickly than I usually finish my drinks. But it took about five minutes for him to make it, whereas Will’s beer was out of the cooler and in his hand inside of 15 seconds. I wasn’t annoyed at having to wait. But I was annoyed at not drinking something quick and easy.

Where is the non-beer drinker’s beer? I want something that will not take up the barkeep’s time, that will be delivered to me quickly, and that is cool and refreshing! It isn’t fair.

Immediately following my previous entry, I disconnected from the internet. Will phoned as I was coming downstairs to look for my shoes, and I informed him that I was Going Out. “So I read,” he told me. Ha ha. He’s so witty. I swear he reads my blog a thousand times a day – insane stalker. Anyway, after I hung up the phone I noticed that it was nearly 4:00 and decided to check the mail before leaving. This served two purposes – the obvious (checking the mail) as well as getting me off the hook for any “exercise” while “outside.” This is because I have to traverse about a mile and a half of hallway, not to mention two flights of stairs, to get to the mailbox.

To my joy, today’s mail included my first new issue of the New Yorker since I resubscribed. Alas, the bill for said subscription also arrived, but I hastily filed it in a Pile of Papers.

Being a flexible sort of person (not that kind of flexible – well, all right, that too), I decided to Read My Magazine instead of Driving Around. To my credit, I opted to do so on the porch, which is actually much closer to the “outside” than our car.

Exhibiting my True Nature (Survivalism?) I collected the necessary items for my journey:

• Magazine (obviously)

• Ice water
• Cigarettes
• Lighter
• Telephone
• Cell phone, as I had told Will that I wouldn’t be home
• Journal and pen

I don’t suppose I really need to mention that as soon as I got outside I felt the need to blog about it. *sigh* It’s a good thing I didn’t opt to cough up the extra cash for wireless internet. Or is it?- then I’d be sure to spend more time on the porch, most likely amusing the neighbors by yelling at the laptop for its deficiencies.

Maybe if we don’t spend that $18/month on beer, pizza and toys (Ha!) I will use it to upgrade the laptop to a Functioning Computer.

I did eventually get around to reading my magazine. As always, it was quite good, and as always I found myself thinking that it was probably better around 1948 or so. I also got a phone call from my friend John.

After about 2 hours I decided that I ought to check on “indoors,” which I am happy to report is still here.

I like to pretend that Wil Wheaton is my friend. I facilitate this by reading his blog, and more recently by receiving email from him regularly. Granted, this email is notification of updates to said blog, sent to a Topica mailing list that I joined, but whatever. It’s my fantasy.

Today I did the Craziest Thing Ever.

I sent him an email. Clearly my delusions have gotten out of hand . I have decided to rectify the situation by exploring this thing I found this morning called “outside.” I’d seen it previously through windows and such, but thought it was yet another product of my fabulous imagination. A quick internet search tells me that it either a) does exist or b) is a mass delusion, like cults have. I dislike scenario b, so I’ve decided to try leaving the house. I have $11 that I shouldn’t spend, so it should be fun.

I spent about 40 minutes on the phone with a service representative named Sylvia from SBC this afternoon. When all was said and done, I had DSL (active next Tuesday), had switched long-distance service (active tomorrow) and had managed to save approximately $18/month.

Screw you, MSN! Fuck you and your crappy, overpriced dial-up! But, um, not until next Tuesday. Edit: I forgot to say – Fuck you, AT&T, as well.

Conversation that took place immediately thereafter:

Will: So I can have $18 a month to spend on toys?
Me: Don’t be ridiculous! This is a partnership, you can have nine.
Will: A partnership, eh? The house had better be spotless when I get home.

Needless to say, he’ll be getting the full $18.