2004-05-13

Forbes Magazine, and by the end of five minutes, I was squinting my best, but couldn’t make out a single damn word in the magazine. All of those, while fun, simply don’t compare to the absolute funnest part of the morning: the part where I got to stick the shade thingy between my glasses and my eyes, so that I could see well enough to drive home. Am I not stylin’? The good news: the pit Dr. B saw in my left eye is a scar on the side of my optical nerve that I’ve had since childhood, and which was either caused by an infection, or is congenital. The more good news: if the scar had formed on the other side of the optical nerve, it would have interfered with my vision; since it didn’t, my vision is fine and I won’t have any vision problems from the scar. The even more good news: there is no bad news! I’ll be happy when my eyes un-dilate, though. Look! I’ve got soul-sucking eyes, just like Diana Degarmo!

* * * Help me out here, folks. I was watching The Bachelor this morning, and one of the women (Tara) was wearing earrings that I just LOVE. I tried to get a picture of them, but couldn’t get a very good one. Surely someone out there knows where I can pick up a cheap knockoff pair that looks just like those? Pleeeeease? I lurve them, and want my own pair! If anyone knows where I can find some, it’s y’all. I have faith in you! * * * Thanks for all your cool supportive comments about the spud situation. (Hee! “The Spud Situation” makes me think of “The Bonnie Situation.”) Anyway, though she was briefly upset on Saturday, she’s gotten over being, as the boy put it in his Xanga blog, “dumped”. I asked her yesterday if she’s still friends with him, and she said “Yes.”, as if I were a moron for asking. Like, OBVIOUSLY I am still friends with him, MOTHER, why WOULDN’T I be, how can you be so STUPID and still be ALIVE at the age of 36?! Then she went on to tell me that he’d met another girl over the weekend and liked her, and though I searched her soul with my soul-sucking eyes (see above), I saw no trace of hurt or anger or pain. I suspect, in the end, that she was more interested in the idea of having a boyfriend than in this particular boy. But I still think his parents are assmonkeys. * * * “Mother, can a doofy cat not sit in the sun and mind his own damn business without you pointing that frickin’ camera at me? Uh, him?” ]]>