obama us and tattoos

I like Coach K, but I am not crazy about Duke (especially not after reading I AM CHARLOTTE SIMMONS). Think of the effort these guys put into what they do. Look at the jewelry they're wearing. Think about the jewelry their wives are wearing. I guess our sentiments run along these lines: TOUGH TOENAILS, DUDE.

All coaches of all teams feel they are unfairly put upon by refs. It's humorous.

WHAT?

DO YOU HAVE EYES?

I believe this is the former Kentucky coach.

"Here are my own children, going without dinner! My own children forfeiting their chance for a good education BECAUSE OF YOU! My house payment, my pastor's house payment, my Bible study group, all going down the drain because YOU CAN'T CALL THE GAME THE WAY I SAY YOU SHOULD! GOD!"

Memphis players thinking about their English paper coming up next week and the loss they endured in March Madness, which will end this weekend.

64 teams participate.

63 teams go home unhappy, robbed, heartbroken, disappointed, and traumatized.

Me, I'm going for dental surgery this morning. I would trade.

Later, dear reader.

A bientot with love,

becky

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This message is unmistakable, isn't it? Even in Russia, it is unmistakable.

Except in Russia it means STOP AND GET OUT YOUR IDENTIFYING PAPERS, COMRADE, BECAUSE FRANKLY YOU LOOK A LITTLE SUSPICIOUS! GET YOUR HAIR CUT!

Sometimes a traffic sign tries to explain too much.

This one tells you which way to go and also the existential ramifications of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya.

In France, of course, they like to use their own word, and they get to pay someone to put that little squiggly mark above the "e." Fine. Although to an English speaker, it suggests STOP OR YOU WILL BE ARRESTED. This we can relate to.

I also don't have a problem with Walk and Don't Walk. Again they make sense. I grew up with them.

Even the little guy walking makes sense.

Did someone get embarrassed by the low-tech image of this guy? Did someone finally heave a big sigh and say good grief, this image is right out of Pong, people. Space Invaders, for god's sake. What kind of message do we want to send to the world? Is THAT why everything is switched now to The Hand?

Sorry, but I'm not on board with that. Since when did a hand come to mean STOP?

Even if it is in red, a hand to me means HI! COME ON OVER! GREAT TO SEE YOU! DON'T WORRY ABOUT CARS!

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER!

By the way, dear reader, though I am no Star Trek fan [can't watch characters with giant stitched up furrows in their foreheads--it gives me a headache and makes me want to check in the mirror to see how my own furrows are doing], my own hand since October 2 of last year, resembles Mr. Spock's. I haven't tried killing anybody yet with the Vulcan Neck Touch, but the day is young.

See that? My ring finger is wonky and hangs to the side. I will always now show solidarity with Spock, one I never loved, but oh well.

And so why not other Hand signals?

Come on, come on. You know you want to. Cross the street, you dmfk.

HEY BABY! WALK OVER HERE! I'M LIKIN' WHAT I SEE!

CAUTION! DON'T ASK WHAT I CAN DO WITH THIS FINGER!

GRRRR! DON'T WALK! GO HOME AND CLOSE THE DOOR AND READ A BOOK, YOU SORRYASS JAYWALKER!

Friday Zest, dear reader--enjoy!

love,

becky

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I know you think of me as a delicate flower, dear reader, and rightly so. I'm a private little weird-o in many ways and so it's rather startling of me to broach the subject of, well, ahem, what it says in the title.

But I'm going to.
As soon as one turns um, a certain age and it rhymes with "nifty," you start getting harassed about it. Every time you darken the doctor's door for any reason, you will be asked about it. Have you had one yet, Mary? When are you going to do it, Mary? Were you planning to schedule it soon?

I myself had certain philosophical questions to ask.
Such as who thought it up?
It had to be somebody drunk, didn't it?
SEE THIS GARDEN HOSE? ARE YOU THINKING WHAT I'M THINKING? I BET WE COULD SNAKE THAT THING ALL THE WAY AROUND AND UP TO SOMEBODY'S THROAT--HOW COOL IS THAT?


It's very fashionable, of course. You never heard about it years ago. I'm sure my parents never had it done. Nobody did.

HAHA, YOU'RE FUNNY, MARY. This does not hold up as an excuse in the doctor's office.


Doctors get that serious sincere look when they talk about it. I get that serious "I'm lying through my teeth" look.

But finally, I succumbed. I couldn't take it any more. I scheduled one. My heart was pounding when I mailed in the paper work last August. Just filling out the forms and putting them in the mail felt frightening and oddly thrilling. It was thrilling again when they called and scheduled me for October 6. How mature I was going to be! No longer a sniveling juvenile! Then I fell and broke both my elbows on October 2 and had to cancel. I don't think anyone has ever gone that far to get out of one, though I can't be sure.

I would have let it go forever, but they called me again (goddamn it!) and I couldn't think of any excuse. So I scheduled it. OH GOD.

And that's what I have spent my spring break week doing. Well, the thing itself only took 20 minutes. But I had to use the rest of the week worrying and fretting and obsessing over it. Also prepping, which I must report is every bit as nasty as I had heard.

You have to drink an emormous jug of a syrupy thick substance that makes you think two thoughts in rapid succession.
1) It's not so bad!
2) YES IT IS!

Then you get to spend quality time in the bathroom. The instructions say that you need to be near the bathroom. This is misleading. Your bed will not be close enough. Know what I'm saying? I ended up bringing my pillow in there and trying to get some sleep on the floor. This is when you give yourself up to God and repent your misdoings and look forward to death.

No solid foods. You can have sherbet or popsicles.
And no red or orange ones either. It's hunger-inducing. I should have started yoga at the same time or some meditation. My thoughts are far too uncontained for meditation.
I HATE THIS!
THIS FKING SUCKS!
MY ARM HURTS TOO!

And let's not forget that this is a cancer test. Some people go in there and find cancer. This is very sobering and frightening. I console myself by thinking at least I can have a cheeseburger and fries when it is over.

And so you get there. They take care of you. They play music. The TV is on. Everybody is really nice and chatty and all you can think is, well, THIS will all stop when they see the big tumor. Then everyone will turn all sad and quiet. This hardly ever happens, they will say. Just wait.

They give you drugs. I thought the drugs were going to put me out, that's what my friends said, but maybe they were running low. I was awake the whole time. I can't say it was entirely comfortable every minute.
Ahem.
But it didn't take long. And everything was fine. When you walk out, you feel like a great big massive responsible adult, baby!

And I have the BIGGEST FRIDAY ZEST OF ALL TIMES!
Happy Spring, dear reader,
love,
becky

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