I just took my first dose of Prednisone and I'm sitting here waiting to bloat up like a tick. I expect I'll have big moon Jerry Lewis face by next week, right?
That reminds me of a story. Who is your most annoying friend? Is it old June, here? But it does. When Marvin and I lived in TinyTown, every Sunday his principal would call with this recorded message for him and for the students and parents and so on. Since pretty much everyone in the world has kids, I guess you are familiar with this.
Anyway, the principal was a wonderful woman, with advanced degrees, but she'd say, "On Tuesday, it's class picture day. And don't forget, on tomorrow, show your school spirit with..."
She'd always say that. "On tomorrow." I think it's a Southern thing.
Now you're wondering how you can show your school spirit, aren't you? I just FAILED to finish that thought. When I ran my marathon, they had a big party for all of us that evening. Stupidly, they had it at this place where you had to walk up all these steps to get there, and Marvin heartily enjoyed watching people go up sideways like crabs. I have no idea why I keep bringing up Marvin today. The point is, this guy had run the race, and he said, "Oh! It was so wonderful to get back to my hotel room after. I took the second-most relaxing shower of my life."
You guys. That was THIRTEEN YEARS AGO, and I am STILL haunted by that. Why didn't I ask him what the MOST refreshing shower was? Because WHAT COULD BE MORE refreshing than a shower after you've run 26.2 miles?
You know what I also enjoyed? I'd tell people "I'm training for a marathon" and they'd say, "How far you gonna run?"
I really wish I knew you all back then, cause that was some good blogging, there, the marathon training.
OH MY GOD, AS I WAS SAYING. On Friday, I schlepped over to Raleigh to see Ned, who is stuck all weekend at a class. The class was in a hotel, so I joined him there after the first day WHICH ENDED AT NINE P.M. Still incensed about how long they make him sit there. Incensed. Put me in a gold dome you bought at the drug store and light me. I am incensed.
Is the Prednisone making me chatty, you think?
OH, it was good to see Ned. You should have seen us. Total Ashley comes back from the war moment, and every single one of you is all, "Is she .EVER. going to get another example of a passionate homecoming? Ever? Are we stuck with Melanie and Ashley for the rest of TIME?"
After we deloused his clothes and sang Dixie, we went out to eat and the moment we walked in, someone knew Ned. He was a bartender in Raleigh for 5595930303 years in college and after, so not only did he bang everyone female, he also got to know many drunk men. Who as far as I know he abstained from banging. But I just recently put the kibosh on "people we've banged" stories cause they were starting to bother me, and maybe we hadn't yet alighted on Ned's experimental years.
Do you do that with your person? Do you tell all your stories or do you leave 'em out? At first I wanted to know just everything about Ned, then I got attached. And now I'd like to think I was his first kiss. At 47. Which would not at all be sad.
Okay, if this is what I'm like on DOSE ONE, you're in for a rocky 12 days. Adrian.
So we had a good time, Ned and I did, and he even got a burrito instead of a salad, given that HIS LAST FOOD BREAK HAD BEEN AT NOON that day.
Incensed. Changing name to Nag Champa.
So everything was wonderful, and oh I adore me the Ned, till I woke up the next day.
Son of a BITCH. And I'll tell you what. This is not the first time he's done this: Ned has some kind of sixth sense about when things are wrong, because my head had not hurt for DAYS, but he was getting ready for his class and he said, "How's your head?" Maybe I had a big flashing red arrow pointing at my temple or something. It FEELS like that, I can assure you.
"Not good," I told him. The plan had been I'd get up and get out of there. I had to come here, get the dogs, clean the damn house for book club, make chili and get my roots done at 2:45, then come home and do my freelance work. Instead? I lay in that bed with ice in a towel until 1:00.
Ned would return to the room on his breaks and there I'd still be. You KNOW he was wondering when that ball of hair and ice was gonna be gone. MAID SERVICE!
I literally rolled out of bed, put on the clothes I'd worn the night before, and minced to Greensboro for my hair appointment. Nothing but death could keep me from covering these roots. Because did I mention my first batch of meds didn't work? And all I had on me was a DIFFERENT kind of migraine med, and they warn you you will DIE a million DEATHS if you combine prescriptions?
I mean, the incense would be snuffed.
So I get downtown to my appointment, and I'm parallel parking, holding up traffic and so on, and when I get a spot I get out of my car to make sure I'm in the lines of my spot. As soon as I open my car door, there is a CACOPHONY of noise.
"Thou art on the lines!" "Behold, maiden! You will get a ticket!" "Movest thou car!"
Up on the second floor of a building, on the balcony, were these IDOTS, dressed in RENAISSANCE garb, directing my parking.
I hate the theater more than life itself, and the REASON I hate the theater is because I FUCKING HATE THEATER PEOPLE. Now, I go to plays and I even have FRIENDS who participate in the theater, but you know what? They are not the "BEHOLD, MAIDEN!" type.
Behold, maiden. Hold this.
Whenever I complain about how much I abhor dramatic theater people, Ned kind of smirks like there's something he WANTS to say but isn't GOING to say. I cannot imagine what.
They were still up there after my hair appointment. What I wouldn't have given for a power hose filled with lava.
So now I have to go do the cleaning I didn't get to yesterday. I already made the chili using one of the recipes you guys sent, so thank you for that. And I got Fritos like you told me to! I may have...sampled them to ensure they were good. Did you know Fritos have no MSG? I already knew that. Am caught up on safe junk food.
Okay, so maybe talk to you 57 more times today, as the JUNE! ON! PREDNISONE! seems to have turned on my box o'chatter. And Hulk makes a box joke in 3....2....1...