Me & The Horse I Rode In On

Friday, August 29, 2008

I'm Leavin'... On a Jetplane... Don't Know if This'll Be Intersting...

Actually I'm not. I'm staying right here. I was trying to think of something clever as a title and all I came up with was "Drinking Water Will Kill You," and "I'm Ready For Insertion," neither of which conveys my true feelings. So instead, I'll do what I always do in such circumstances - channel John Denver. I find that his mellow yet refined yet alluring voice often calms the storm that is the hurricane that is my thoughts. Or it aggravates them. I'm not too sure right now, seeing as I've got no time for decisions. I do, however, have time for a blog post!

I attended an EMS game two weekends ago. I was given a ticket by some good friends and while I waited for them to meet me at the front gate, a woman started talking to me. She seemed very pleasant, hadn't been to an EMS game before, and was taken with the actual stadium itself. "Do ya know when this was built?," she pondered, gazing at the support beams. I said, "I think in the 30s or 40s at least. It's pretty old for a stadium like this." She gave a "hmm" face and said, "Well, it's just too bad. I heard they're moving the team next year, did you know that?" I replied yes and before I could ask a time-killing question about the weather or her place of residency, she said flatly, "I just hope it has bathrooms." She continued to look around and my eyes went immediately to the line of Honey Buckets a few yards away from us. Instead of point them out, or say that the hint of sour air wafting through wasn't from the food, I thought a nice joke would be appropriate. "Actually," I replied, "There are chamberpots under your seat. We just use those." She regarded me with absolute disgust. I thought the smile on my face would surely tell her I was kidding, but she moved away and started walking down the stairs without a word. Eh, whatever. I suppose I should have told her the bit about slaughtering your own pig if you want a hot dog (a firm and deep slice does the piggy in nice!), but she'll find that out for herself.

I have begun work at the main branch of our library processing borrowing requests from patrons. Our library system essentially runs on no money whatsoever, so when positions are vacated (even vital ones), they are not immediately refilled. The main library is desperate for people to help with this position, as borrowing requests obviously need to be processed. Depending on the patron (faculty, staff, student, community member, etc.), the level of service our library provides is actually astounding given our resources. We're part of such an enormous network of academic libraries, that should Professor Smith want pages 2-16 of the ABC Journal, Volume 1 published in 1922, s/he will get it photocopied, PDF'd and emailed to them. This, of course, is for our faculty to whom we provide the highest level of service including, but not limited to, fulfilling certain "other" requests. Interpret as you will. Unfortunately, the same level of attention cannot realistically be paid to every patron, but that doesn't stop them from acting like the center of the universe. I have been emailing one of our community patrons back and forth who doesn't understand why we cannot obtain a very old, very obscure volume written in the late 1600s. The only library that owns it is in England and like every other rare book in the world, they do not lend it to other institutions. Simple enough. Once I got that through his head, he said it was OK to get a copy of only the chapters he needed. Well, that's going to cost you. This isn't some journal that's easily obtained through any university. It's so rare that the lending institution has to use archival processes to get it photocopied, for the price of $150 (believe me, that's actually quite reasonable given this guy's request). Of course the patron came unglued. His emails went from slightly rude to blatantly offensive, the last being simply: "FUCK YOU AND YOUR CRAPPY LIBRARY." His request was deleted.

Our Lost viewing crew began to do dinner once a week. Thanks to Erin who thought it pathetic that the only time we saw each other was during the Lost season, we've been gathering for about two weeks now. After dinner on the first night, Bryan suggested that we play Telephone Pictionary. Sit in a circle. You have small individual pieces of paper equal to the number of people playing. On the top piece of paper, you write a phrase. Each person then passes their entire pile of paper to the person on their right, who reads the phrase and on the following piece of paper, tries to draw it. Then, moving the phrase to the back of the pile, they pass their pile, drawing on top, to the person on their right. Now, based on the drawing, the next person interprets and writes a phrase they think the picture is describing. The game continues until you receive your pile back. I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard for so long from playing a game. The best part is that there are no winners or losers. The point of the game is in its absurdity and receiving something back so far from what you originally wrote down. Case in point: five of us were at the cabin this weekend. I was two people down from Robin, whose phrase was "it puts the lotion on its skin." He handed his stack to Shannon, who drew what we eventually saw looked like a robot with some hair and a dark blotch on a human arm. She would later explain that the squareness of the jaw was supposed to be Hannibal Lecter. Well, Eric was next to receive the stack and based on Shannon's drawing, Eric wrote "heroin robot needs heroin." He was wiping tears from his face when he passed the stack to me, and it took me a good three minutes to get it together after reading it. Heroin robot needs heroin? WTF?!?! My stomach was aching from laughing so hard but I couldn't stop. I could barely draw and as I did, I kept breaking into hysterical fits. When I finally got the drawing done, I handed it to Chandra. My drawing consisted of a stick-figure robot with outstretched clamp hands and next to it, a spoon with something cooking in it and a syringe. Heroin robot needs heroin. Chandra did an excellent interpretation saying something like "heroin addicted robot." Robin received his stack from Chandra and a long bout of side-splitting laughter ensued. From "it puts the lotion on its skin" to "heroin addicted robot." I give you Telephone Pictionary.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Sanest. Person. Ever.

... THE FUCK?!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

So Many Questions, So Little Crack to Smoke

April is probably the only person to realize that I haven't posted in a long time, including me. She forwarded a list of questions to fill out so here I go:

1. Your full name:

Patrick Aaron Thelonius Kevin Shaneefa Moore

2. What your Native American name would have been if you were in Dances With Wolves:

Carl

3. Your birthday:

Outta control
fun

4. Name of a famous person who shares your birthday:

Paula Abdul a.k.a. Oxy McVicodin

5. What is the best thing you can do with your hands?

HOLLA PANDA!! (thud)


6. What is the worst thing you’ve done to someone?

Promised to donate my kidney but when the time came and they needed it, didn't return their calls. I mean, it was their fault for believing me!

7. What is an evil thing you’d like to do to someone (enemy, Tom Cruise, Accounting Dept., etc.)?

Make them sit through one of our all-staff meetings.

8. What is the stupidest movie you’ve ever seen?

Spiderman 3

9. Have you ever cheated?

Oh god yes. I didn't get a 15,305 on my SATs because I played fair.

10. Have you ever been cheated on?

Yes. It was totally great when I caught him and he tried to tell me that I didn't see what I just saw. Oceania has always been at war with Eurasia.

11. Have you ever discovered a dead body while hiking?

Yes. Yes I have.

12. If you ever did discover a dead body while hiking, would you take anything off the body (jewelry, loose change, sunglasses, etc)?

Uhhhh.... do penises count? I mean like if it was a really really nice one.

13. Do you ever talk to the TV?

Try
to watch one of those design shows where a prospective home buyer walks into a room and says, "Well now I just don't like this color they painted on the walls," and not scream, "IT'S CALLED PAINT YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!!"

14. Does the TV ever reply?

No. The idiots continue being pathetically stupid. Such is my life.

15. What is your marital status?

About to do a barrel roll and roundhouse kick to this chick's dome... oh wait... maRItal status. Let's see... we own a house together and will be celebrating our six year anniversary in October... so I'd say barely together. If only we could get married like straight people! Then our relationship would be solid for sure!

16. Would you recommend that status to a friend?

Yeah sure, what the hell.


17. How about to an enemy?

Oh no. My enemies (you know who you are, Evan) will have much, much worse befall them.

18. Have you ever hit a parked car and failed to leave a note?

If by "parked car" you mean "child" and by "leave a note" you mean "stuffed their lifeless body into my trunk with considerable difficulty," then no I haven't failed.

19. Has someone done it to you?

I've woken up unconscious in a trunk more times than I can remember. That I wasn't stuffed in a trunk as a child is absolutely unfathomable.

20. Have you ever consumed an entire pie in one sitting?

And how!

21. Name a fictional Olympic sport that you would win:

Simultaneous Hand Jobs to Jilted Construction Workers Whose Wives Haven't Touched Them in Over Six Months. Gold medal, hands down. And up. And down. And up and down and up and down.

22. Do you believe in the death sentence?

Well, plenty of people have said "I'm gonna KILL YOU," and so far it hasn't happened, so no. I don't believe in it.

23. Do you believe in Santa?

You mean that bloated, half-drunk, red-nosed dude who wears a ridiculous outfit and talks to reindeer? We just call him Grandpa.

24. Do you believe in God?

I believe that others believe in god. By logical extension, that makes their belief in god a waste of time because anything I believe in is by definition fictitious because reality is what I say it is. If I have to take the effort to believe in it, it has no basis in reality. It's called Patrick's Law of Awesomeness.

25. Do you have neighbors you can’t stand?

No, they're all really nice so far!

26. Are you the neighbor people can’t stand?

I'm certain of it!


27. In your opinion, what’s the best thing to make out of leather?

A) Furniture, B) pants, C) purses, D) “toys.”

I'm going to assume that "toys" means a nice leather football for my nephew, so I'll go with D.

28. Have you ever been arrested?

Nope, my record is squeaky clean! Meth lab, cocaine processing plant, and moonshine distillery notwithstanding.

29. If yes, did the charges stick?


Right to mah balls!

30. If you are in a public bathroom with five stalls and someone is in stall #1 and someone else is in stall #5, which is the correct stall for you to use?

Stall #1. The whole "foot tapping" thing wastes too much time. Trust me, people. Just walk into that stall and get busy. Life's too short!

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Quote of the Year

"I'm such a work in progress at the moment, it's crazy, and life wants me on edge, I swear to you. But as long as I don't forget the past, I'm cool. One must always be mindful, just like you might forget that old girlfriend who tried to slit your throat, but she's really still hot. If you remember the stitches more than you remember the pussy, you're going to be just fine."

-Robert Downey, Jr.

Monday, August 04, 2008

It Hurts, Oh God, It Hurts

Last weekend was absolutely fantastic. The Second Annual Sausage Fest did not disappoint at any time, in any way. So much fun was had. We ate delicious food, drank fabulous beer, took an incredible hike to Blue Pool and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Once I get some pictures, I'll be sure to post them.

We left at noon yesterday. I was riding in the back seat of Tim's truck and as we were merrily recounting our weekend, my stomach seized. I wasn't sick and it wasn't acid reflux. It felt as though a balloon was inside my upper abdomen and inflating; pushing all my muscles and bones outward. It hurt really, really bad. While in the car, it happened several other times, but I chalked it up to heavy food, drink and forgetting my Prilosec. I had forgotten my Prilosec for a weekend some time ago, but nothing like this happened. When we got home, I took a couple of Pepsid to calm what I thought was just a bad case of indigestion.

The TV was on and I was writing in pain. The "inflating" feeling never went away, rather, it undulated between a 3 on the pain scale and a 9 (out of 10). Keep in mind that I've had some bad pain before, but only considered it a 7. In my view, a 10 on the medical pain scale is basically passing out and being non-responsive because you're in so much pain. It felt like I wasn't too far away from that.

I needed a distraction, so I decided to give WebMD a whirl. Fully expecting it to diagnose me with something like Skin Failure or Alien About to Burst From Chest Disease, I was surprised when it told me I was having an esophageal spasm. It sure felt like that. Once I had a name to give to my pain, it made a lot of sense. The base of my esophagus was seizing over and over; sometimes horribly, sometimes dully, but never stopping.

Not only did the Pepsid have no effect, but nothing was having any effect. I tried drinking water, stretching, standing and moving around. It just kept getting worse to the point where I was crying when it reached a peak. For about thirty seconds, tears would stream down my cheeks because it hurt so bad. Robin was at my side immediately. "What is it?," he would ask, "Do you need to see someone?" I tried to a couple of hours to let it be, but at around 5 o'clock, I couldn't take it anymore.

We drove to Urgent Care only to find that Urgent Care isn't open on Sundays. This meant my only option was the emergency room. Joy.

I always imagine the ER to be stuffed with craziness, overflowing and spilling into the nearby streets. It was relatively calm, but it still took two hours to be seen. The woman in line before me was an absolute hypochondriac, seeking the heaviest of pain medications (she requested Methadone by name) for what she called a "back ache." I realize that it's not appropriate to listen on other people's medical problems, but I knew this person was in for drugs and it was making me raging mad. I had a real problem, one that was causing my right eye to twitch from pain, and here this woman was, saying things like, "(SIGH) I just... can't seem to get it any better...(SIGH)." When the nurse asked her if she was on any other medication, the list was out of control. I had no idea people could take so many heavy medications. She was on anti-anxiety, pain medication, anti-inflammatory and on and on. I focused my anger solely on her and her trumped up excuses for further medication which helped distract me for ten minutes or so.

The doctor walked in and when I explained the weekend, the forgetting of the Prilosec and the food involved, she didn't seem too surprised. She said, "I'll have the nurse bring in a nice coctail and we'll do some blood work." The nurse returned a few minutes later with a concoction I can only describe as, "Minty; robust textures of chalk and asbestos with an instant numbing sensation and a narcotic finish." It certainly did the trick. They took my blood and said it would take another 30 to 45 minutes to get the results, so out came our iPhones and games we did play.

All my levels were fine. The doctor wanted to make sure the spasms weren't coming from something irregular (read: far worse) and it was just a weekend of heavy food. She gave me a few Vicodin in case anything else happened and off I went.

Today my muscles are really, really sore from a 9-hour bout of seizing and all I want to do is go home and sleep. I'm cranky, my fuse is short, but at least I don't have a baby alien trying to smash through my sternum.