I just used the new shampoo and conditioner that my aunt sent me--it's fancy stuff--and then when I emerged from the shower, I said. "What's that red dot on my arm? ...Hey, what's that other red dot on my arm?" Then I looked in the medicine cabinet mirror, and fortunately Glen Close wasn't behind me (hashtag Ruined Since Fatal Attraction in 1987), but I was covered--covered!!--in a rash on my back, shoulders, arms and face.
I guess I'm allergic to the shampoo/conditioner. I even checked that it didn't have grapefruit in it! And no, I can't take a Benedryl. Thanks for the advice. Benedryl gives me migraines, so I don't own any.
So while I wait to die of anapyhlactic shock, I'll blog at you.
One of the Alexes at work is in the midst of a long breakup, so I made her do what I always do to mend a broken heart: see a psychic and sign up for OK Cupid. You can see how well that's worked for me. The very day Ned and I broke up, I stampeded to a psychic, and she told me Ned would get a new girlfriend right away. Thanks. Feel better. Glad I came here.
But anyway, I made an appointment for Alex at the psychic place, and you know it's genuine because they use purple. And prayer flags.
Plus, the receptionist/cashier is a Kitler. Do you guys remember four years ago when I went to this place and he was a kitten? A Kittenler? If you kept up with your Big Book of June Events, you'd remember. I'll bet faithful reader Steve's Wife Beth remembers.
Oh my god, my throat feels all irritated. This is probably it, when the allergic reaction has hit my innards. Elizabeth, I'm comin' to join you, honey.
If I died while blogging, I'd get so, so famous.
I went to the tea shop to wait for her to be done, Alex, I mean, not Steve's Wife Beth or Eva Braun, and I don't know why I can't just stick to the topic at hand. I had to pee when I got there, so instead of ordering a peppermint tea before I did that, I stampeded through the empty shop and to the restroom. Then when I emerged, I had to wait for a guy who was practically buying a condo.
"How much caffeine is in the bark mousse tea? Oh, yeah, I don't want that much caffeine. The eggnog existential crisis tea, is that spicy? Can I make that into a latte? What sizes do you have? Do you have one the size of my man bits, which are clearly lacking and the only solace I have is this tea?"
He's lucky I'm on Lexapro, man, or there would have been a TON of passive-aggressive sighing while I waited.
Anyway, the psychic told Alex she's got to get over the last guy and make a decision to move forward, which, wow, psychic. And that once she does, she's going to meet a chiseled doctor. I'm not even kidding you. A chiseled doctor. When I went to that psychic in September, she was all, yeah, I don't see anyone. Nope. No man.
The only time I'll see a chiseled doctor is when I see him for this rash.
A chiseled doctor. Why am I friends with that dick, Alex?
So then right there at the tea shop, Mrs. Doctor Alex and I got on her new OK Cupid page and watched the hellos parade in.
If you're on a dating site currently, and you hover near my age, here's the part where you go ahead and kill yourself with allergic shampoo. She got 120 messages right away. Like, not even day one, hour or two one.
So I feel like she'll be okay.
I gotta go. If my airways stay clear, I'll head to work. Oh my god, I just remembered that Dooce had an allergic reaction not long ago. Even my diseases are derivative. No wonder I can't score a chiseled doctor. Or anyone.
Actually, though, last night after I left Alex so she could get ready to meet Noah Drake, I came home and fed the pets, then got online to peruse vintage plant stands (I want to make this back room into a plant-y room, I mean if I live through being Rash Bridges right now), and then I lost all track of time till it was time for Girlfriend's Guide to Divorce, and as I headed to my TV I thought, God, this is marvelous. I forgot how much I like living alone. I really do.
Although it'd be super convenient to have a doctor in the house right now.