Well, Jamie’s been deployed, so I’m solo for the week. I’m going to use the time to watch DVDs on Netflix that Jamie wouldn’t want to watch. Predictably, it being October and all, the scary movies of the past year have jumped to the top of the Queue. On the other end of the spectrum, i just watched the second Harold and Kumar movie. A truly bad movie, but there are two sequences that are priceless: a dream sequence in which Kumar has a threesome with his ex-girlfriend, and a giant, anthropomorphic bag of weed. Then the final montage of a jaunt through Amsterdam. Probably worth renting just for those two scenes. Oh and NPH makes a comeback.
I’m very glad to see that my shower curtain exchange is gaining some traction. I think it’s a good sign for the potential of a future business endeavor.
It’s increasingly difficult to not discuss the election on the blog. It’s become a good 75 percent of my waking thought and discussion. Like most of the country, Sarah Palin has become the target of my attention. I don’t have TV reception at my place, so I’ve gone to folks’ houses to watch the debates. Considering the crowd I run with, you can imagine the gatherings eventually devolve into alternating shouting of the C-word, and head-shaking disbelief. I’m growing legitimately concerned of my capability of living in this country if John McCain and Sarah Palin win this election. I don’t think my rage can handle it. On the upside, looks like the wheels are coming off of their ticket.
Increasing the day-counting anxiety caused by an election year, the trips that will follow are also hanging just beyond the horizon. I’m heading to Tucson/Phoenix for Cory’s wedding in mid-November. This will be the first time in quite a while that I’ll be in Arizona with more than a couple of days packed with family obligation. I’m looking forward to the wedding and surrounding festivities, but also just being back home among friends. I can’t complain about my living situation here, but I can’t help getting homesick. The interesting thing about homesickness in the modern American West? It can’t be cured. I’ve made too many homes. Which also accounts for a trip to Portland I’m planning shortly after the wedding.
For the first time in quite a while I went to the doctor last week. I hate the doctor. I don’t really know why, other than the obvious discomfort. But there’s such potential for complete loss of control over my daily life, that I just dread it like all hell. To give you some kind of idea of the level of my dread, when I first went into the office and the doctor took my blood pressure, it was something like 160 over 90.
But as always, these appointments go fine and actually are the source of some relief. The doctor was very nice. There was minimal poking or stabbing, and I’m in tip-top shape. My lungs work, my esophagus is just fine, and my testicles (testacles) are perfectly normal. Knock on some wood.
Because of my nervousness, I usually over-explain and inform my doctor. For example, after I had the testicle check, I said, “Oh shoot, I forgot to tell you in my medical history, but I just remembered …. um, because of what just … uh, happened … that when I was a kid I had a torsion of the testicular appendage. You know, not a full-on torsion. I just took some pills and it went away.”
“Oh okay,” the doctor said, seeming a little startled by my chipper and clinically specific revelation. “Well that must not have been a very fun experience for you.”
“Nah, it was pretty lousy. What’re you gonna do though right?”