Gorilla's Choice

Well, well, well. Today I started my morning by removing my clothes and letting strangers pull down the back of my underwear, as has become custom. I went to see a "real doctor", as in a bone and joint specialist as opposed to my beloved Chiropractor in the West Village who lets her dogs run all over the office and chew on my sweater. I thought that the benefits of seeing a bone doctor would be that he would be able to perform more advanced diagnostic tests and would proscribe me something for pain beyond 12 Ibuprofen a day.

The doctor's office is on 64th Street and looked expensive from the web page; a deduction I made from the fact that he posted photos of the lush waiting room online. But besides the fact that he treats a lot of athletes, it really wasn't posh and the waiting room was full of mensches* like myself. The doctor was very nice. First he wanted to make sure I didn't have a pinched nerve, so he performed a test that involved hooking me up to probes and shocking me with mild electrical current to make my muscles twitch - less fun than it sounds. As I lay on my stomach he said, "Okay, we're all done with the probes now." I exhaled. "Now I'm going to be inserting some needles into your back. You may feel some pressure."

"Well, that was kind of a good news/bad news now, wasn't it?" I gasped.

I don't have a pinched nerve, but I probably have a herniated disc. I had some x-rays taken. I asked if I needed to turn off my cell phone and blackberry in the X-ray room and the technician said no. We had this joke at my last office that if the Boss was getting an x-ray and you called him on the cell phone at that exact moment, he would probably end up like Bruce Banner, and never know why.

The doctor also wants me to get an MRI. Now, I am very claustrophobic, it doesn't really effect me in everyday life, but it does effect me when you decide to launch me into a toilet paper tube, let me sit there for an hour and surround me with clicking noises. The past two times I've had MRIs, I've really freaked out, including the time I had the open MRI. So anyone who wants to chaperon that little excursion, just raise your hand. Those were the kinds of things that LaHipster was really good at.

Chamber of Terrors

Oh, also I have to go to Physical Therapy. Basically I'm visualizing all of my free time and cash being fed into an endless cycle of PT, chiropractics and diagnostic tests. Happy Holidays!!

Fortunately for me, Alphabets and MuppetLover came over yesterday to help me around the house. I have been very lucky to get kind offers from people. "Do you need any groceries? Do you want me to bring over a movie?" Hell, FreshDirect brings the groceries and Netflix brings the DVDs**, I need someone to empty the trash and change the paper towel roll and PICK UP MY IPOD OFF THE FLOOR which lay there for 5 days. Remember when you were a kid and you would play that game where you would be on the bed and you would pretend that the carpet was a sea of lava and anything that fell on the floor was gone forever? Well, that is my life now. No bending over. Oh, my hairbrush is on the floor? See you in three weeks.

Anywho, I asked Alphabets and MuppetLover to come over and empty by bedpan and shave my legs. This was kind of a test to see if they were really my friends (there is no bedpan). When they agreed to come by, I was like, just kidding, I just need help making my bed! The old bait and switch. Anyway, a big thanks to them - they really knocked shit out. Ladies, you are stars. And for comparison, I was talking to my Dad today. He said, "Well, if you need anything, I'm not really sure what I can do from here, but let me know."

"Actually, Pop, I need some help ironing."

"What?"

"Ironing. My shirts."

"You want me to come to the city and iron for you?"

"Yes," said in pouty baby voice.

"Yeah, no. I don't see that happening. Money? Do you want some money?"

Hmm. If only I could figure out a way to turn money into ironing ... oh, and shaving my legs. Still haven't figured out how to do that in my current incapacitated state. That chore is still up for grabs.


*It kills me to pluralize a German word by adding "es" to it

**And theoretically Joe's brings my laundry

Wish they all could be California Photos

Photos via PatriotDave. Granted, they are probably only interesting to a handful of people out then, but since when has this blog been relevant?

What we have here is the making of a beautiful sitcom, most likely to air on Showtime.


Of course, you can't have a sitcom without the wacky next door neighbors.


Later that night, Kevin Spacey stopped by. It was a star-studded wedding!



Here is a photo of Belstock officiating as Joe and Angie recite their vows. When I first heard at the rehearsal dinner that Belstock was going to be performing the ceremony, I thought that I misunderstood. Then for the next day I kept walking around saying, "That can't possibly be legally binding!" Well, shame on me. Look at that guy in the middle - Groomsman, Officiant, reader of Sapphic poems, DJ and Dance Captain. Just try getting married without that guy - just try it!

Meanwhile back at the ranch

So, some other stuff happened. Like, the Kentucky Derby happened. That is notable only because Confetti Jesse came to Brooklyn to go to a party and I crashed the party and we met for the first time in real non-blog life. I found him, as James Lipton would say, "delightful".


At midnight everyone sang "My Old Kentucky Home" and we watched a tape of the Derby that had been run earlier that day, and even though I had bet on a horse, I still had no idea who won. It was that kind of party. It was a good party if you ever wondered what it was like to stand at the convergence of hipsters and frat boys, enjoy dodging randy bisexuals and don't mind the odd domestic dispute. The best part was blog friend Jesse and my old college chum Edith Veder, whom I hadn't seen in ages, but who is still successfully organizing zombies in Beantown. She's a keeper. I remember when the personal hygiene, or lack thereof, of E-Ved's boyfriend became a "house community issue" in our dorm - now she likes bankers. Boy, that makes me laugh.

Fortunately a seed was planted in Jesse's head about emigrating to New Jerk City. I've always said what this city needs is more zombies.


Another thing that happened at this party is that my cell phone was drowned in two inches of bourbon when someone spilled a mint julep into my purse. Neither the phone or my SIM card was salvageable, so if I haven't spoken with you recently, there's a good chance I lost your phone number. You should resend it to me. And tell me a joke.

Softies - Not just an annoying ice cream truck jingle

Hey guys, CraftyCrumbly entered one of her crochet designs into The Softies 2007 Awards and she's a finalist in the food category. (Just trust me on this). Vote for her Frowny Marshmallows here. If you like looking at fun, mod, inspiring crafts, you'll enjoy voting.

What's a softie? Check out Softie Central.