My love/hate relationship with MySpace
2006-06-17 12:26 p.m.

Last night everyone in the world who didn't have a date (including me) was on MySpace. I seem to have a huge appeal for 20 year old gay male models in California (yum!) and misogyistic egotistical rappers/country western singers (WTF?). I'm sorry, but anyone who has 965 friends doesn't need me as another one. I also got e-mailed a picture of a guy showing off his erection, nice, but too much information and a little threatening, and an invite from a guy whose profile only said that he enjoyed eating certain body parts. While I'm thrilled that he's enjoying a balanced diet, he's not someone that I need to be "friends" with.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time reporting the uber perverts to the administrator for abuse and banning them so they can't find me again. Then I opened an invite from a very familiar name:

My first real boyfriend. The guy I lost my virginity to. The first person to break my heart and I'm sure whose heart I broke too. We haven't spoken or seen each other in 14 years.

I e-mailed him, he e-mailed back. He's living in New York, married, no kids and has his own business. It was so cool. I always wondered where he was and what he was doing. He was a dreamer and a schemer; I always knew he was destined for something amazing. I'm happy that he found me. Plus, if I ever visit New York I'll have a couch to crash on.

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10 Things I want my doctor to say to me.
2006-06-16 12:37 a.m.

Things I want to hear my doctor say to me:

1) "You're dangerously underweight, I'm going to write you a prescription for Starbucks Mocha Frappacuinos."
2) "All pap smears now come with a free bikini wax and pedicure so just lay back and relax."
3) "Thanks for coming in today, be sure to help yourself to anything you want in the dispensary on your way out."
4) Have you lost weight? Cause, baby, you've got it going on!"
5) "You are my 1,000th patient and have won a free rhinoplasty!"
6) "I've informed the pharmacy to dispense whatever prescriptions you want in whatever amount you feel is necessary."
7) "The technicians at the lab have voted you Sexiest Patient of the month. Here's your plaque and a gift certificate to Victoria's Secret."
8) "Your chest CT Scan was the centerfold in this month's Pulmonologist's Playpen Magazine. Will you sign this for me?"
9) "Are those real?"
10) "You're cured."

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What my gut said.
2006-06-15 10:43 a.m.

Before I went home last night I trekked to Starbucks in Pioneer Place to get some coffee beans. The hyped up baristas talked me into the limited edition Brazilian blend, which I must say is really good. I haven't had coffee in months and I'm hoping this will be a simple way to fight off the fatigue that's been vexing me for, uh, the last two years. Mmmm, coffee.

It was drizzling outside so I decided to take the underground passageway to catch the parking garage elevator. As I was walking through the tunnel, a young guy was walking towards me. He gave me a strange look and suddenly turned on his heel and walked off into a corner. Then he turned and followed me. We stood next to each other waiting for the elevator. There was no one else around and I was getting a really bad feeling about him. Part of me was kind of ashamed of myself, he was Latino and I felt like I was racially profiling him. But I just didn't like the way he was looking at me. He was sizing me up, staring at my bag and my purse, and not looking me in the eye. The doors opened and there was no one else in the elevator. He got in first. Then I walked in. He hadn't pushed any of the buttons and this struck me as weird. My sense of fight or flight was screaming at me. So I snapped my fingers and said "Oh damn, I forgot something" and high tailed it back inside the mall. I stopped and bought a diet coke, as a way to justify my sudden departure and leaned against the wall. I had to deal with trying to figure out if I was zen and listened to my instincts or if was just a racist bitch.

Honestly, nothing probably would have happened. I mean, realistically what could he have done to me with two floors to go? On the other hand, he was dressed like a thug - hat pulled low over his face, big jacket with his hands thrust in the pockets fiddling with something, and big baggy pants. I don't care how anyone dresses, but if you dress like a thug I may not feel comfortable squishing myself in an enclosed space with you. Did I overreact?

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Desert eyes.
2006-06-14 5:34 p.m.

I went to see the Ophthalmologist today and got my peepers checked out. She said I had "floaters" that I probably knew about. Floaters? I haven't noticed anything floating around in my field of vision. I even tried to shake my head around just in case I could create some sort of snow globe effect but nope, nothing. She also told me that my sneaky eye, the scar tissue which make my pupil not round, had broken up nicely and I now have lovely round pupils. She then numbed up my eyes and did a Schirmer's test - that's when they tuck a piece of sandpaper paper between your lower lid and eyeball for five excruciating minutes to see how much tears you produce. I produced virtually none. Then she used her magnifying doo-hickey and looked in my eyes. She said they were dry. Very very dry. So dry that they were inhabited by camels, sand dunes and tiny tribes of bedouins. This explains why I've had the irrepresible desire to dress Trinity in a burkha and paint her little feet with intricate henna designs. I left with a prescription for Restasis and had to pledge on the life of my first born child that I'd return every six months to ensure I don't go blind. I'm totally down with that. I like seeing. It rocks.

On another note I made another banner that is a little dirty but I think it's hysterical. My other one is liiterary suggestive but pretty benign. If you like cats and want to see something amusing you should watch this flying cats slideshow. I suggest playing some classical music in the background.

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Tuesday bloody tuesday.
2006-06-13 5:23 p.m.

After hemming and hawing about my eyes for the last week: Oh I'm just tired, I've been doing too much reading, I've been spending too much time on the computer. I broke down and called for an ophthalmologist appointment. My eyes are dry, burning and turning that gross milky red color. I've also noticed that I've slowly been breaking out the eyedrops: Visine, Visine for contacts, Natural Tears, Liquigel drops and Moisture Eyes ointment. I have more lubricants for my eyes than a porn star has for - yeah, I'm going to stop that analogy right there.

It's amazing the kind of treatment you get when you have a bone fide medical condition. I have an appointment tomorrow - I didn't even have to be a bitch, whine or star crying uncontrollably. Amazing! What service.

By the way, thanks to everyone who's been clixing me. Keep up the good work, I've been in the top ten for the last couple of weeks. Clix often. I'll clix you too, baby.

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You cant stop my heart from turning inside out.
2006-06-12 11:22 p.m.

I was driving home from work in the pouring rain and hit the channel changer on my radio. A song was on that I did not remember. At least not consciously. However, I could sing every single word. I just opened my mouth and out flew the words, one after the other. I didn't know who sang it, although it had a definite Echo and the Bunnymen-ish feel to it.

The more I sang the more I was overcome with the girl I was when this song was released - 1987? 1988? Fresh out of high school, laden down with books at a swanky private college. I was in heaven. I had no boundaries. The world was my oyster and nothing was going to stop me. My self-esteem was through the roof and I had an entire entourage of boys and girls all clamouring for my time. I was electric.

Luckily the D.J. popped online and identified the song as "Inside Out" by The Mighty Lemon Drops. Ah yes. Now it comes back to me.

I wonder where that girl went. Damn, I miss her. I miss people randomly stopping by my house at 10:00am to drink beer on my porch and smoke skinny French cigarettes while discussing literature and poetry. I miss having men all vying for my attention. I miss spontaneous parties that lasted until breakfast, lunch and began again after dinner. I miss my youth, my vitality, my health.

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