Thursday, July 14, 2005

They Have Security Guards in Hospitals, Don't They?

I've survived another week - and I really don't know how. This one was a doosie. So I'm going to rant and rave about the week in no particular order and I most likely won't add any clarity to what my problem is. Menopause - My mother says she's going through "the change". I say she "says" that because I haven't noticed any real hot or cold flashes or anything like that yet - but if you count her moods (aka hormones) you'd think she was snorting coke 24/7. Earlier this week she called me and her voice was distraught. I tried to get her to talk to me but all I got were long bouts of silence. So she told me she was going to go for a walk and call me when she got back - an hour and a sundown later - no call. So I called her. Twice. No answer. In a panic I sped across town to check the house and there she was, as sweet as could be, painting. When I came in she was surprised. Didn't remember that she was supposed to call. Ringer turned off on the phone. She was smiling, joking around and all that. She blames it all on menopause. One minute she just can't handle anything in life - the next she wants to set me up with a Brazilian man she met at the mall. G-d love her. Rachel called me yesterday to let me know she is still alive. I was grateful for that. Perfect timing as always though, that Rachel. She also asked me not to do anything drastic while she is in Arizona for the next two weeks like marry a stripper named Chico or hop a flight to Africa or dig a hole to China or switch to decaf espresso. I couldn't make her any promises on the stripper. I told her not to be surprised if she calls my cell when she gets home and I'm in a bar somewhere in Tel Aviv drinking with some nicely tanned Israeli men. She listened to me rant about my mother, my self imposed seclusion, my frustrations and my angst (I bet she didn't bargain for that when she called). Then she told me to get a six pack of beer and get drunk. Today I plan on getting a six pack of beer and getting drunk. I was reminded why I am friends with my friends. Which is really a good thing because I usually fantasize about stringing my friends up to a tree and poking them with sticks. (I'm sure I'll get plenty of emails from that one...) First of all Leslie called and emailed me worried that I was rocking back and forth in a dark corner somewhere. So concerned that Leslie is, how nice, I really do appreciate that girl. Not to worry my friend, I'm fine. There was drama on the wedding front. Have I mentioned this? Kim is getting married next weekend. Slightly flighty but unavoidably loveable Barbie - called me to plan a small congrats gathering for both Kim and her fiance - Mike. She made arrangements for everyone to get together at our friendly bar downtown, planned for an ice cream cake and balloons. Kim called me the other night stating that she had no intention of going to a bar when she is five? six? months pregnant and could not understand what Barbie was thinking (this is understandable but...I was reminded of an incident when I was at the bar downtown once and a girl I knew plopped her baby - in a car seat mind you - on the table and said she needed anything with vodka in it...so it's not entirely unheard of. Welcome to small town America, we bring our babies to the bar and put a little tequila in their Similac. Jokes. We don't really. Trailer park people do though, that's a fact.). I tried to assure Kim that Barbie's heart was in the right place and urged her to talk to Barbie if she was worried about the plans. I got a call from Barbie last night. "She knows," she said. "She was all pissy til I told her what I planned and then she said she felt bad." I told her to milk the guilt and deny Kimberley any ice cream cake and tell her we didn't want her cranky, pregnant ass at our party anyway (but she might get a call around 3 a.m. to pick up all of those drunk people and drive them home). Did that story sound loopy with a side of cockamamey? Yep. That's why I love my friends. Stacy thought she was cute when she told me to go visit her sister Deana up at the hospital on Wednesday when her baby is to be born. Yeah right, go up there by myself, with all those needles and bone cutters and...scalpels!?!?!?!? Do we not remember the pool incident? They have security guards at hospitals don't they? So that sums up my cranky week. Maybe not completely - but I have a good humor about it all right now so let's not ruin it okay? WHO WANTS TO GET DRUNK AND GET TATTOOED!?!?!?!?!?

5 comments:

Jennifer said...

Ahhhh, scared of Deana are you?? You can go with me to the hospital, I will protect you from Deana.....(as she sits in front of her computer screen drinking coffee and a pop tart laughing a very evil laugh).

I'm all for the drunkness and tatoos!! Where do I sign up at??

Jessica said...

Hahaha, like I would believe YOU would keep me save around Deana?! Do I look like I fell off the turnip truck yesterday?

Turnip truck...who says that?!

Jennifer said...

Come on now, do you honestly think that I would let Deana hurt you.........ok, maybe just a little, but what more can she do, she threw her blood on you and ripped your shirt.

Yeah, your right, Turnip Truck.....come on that was 80's!! Can't you do better??

Leslie said...

I would like to be the first in line at the keg. Jessica, I haven't seen your ass in I can't remember how long not to mention I have been in this house with the family since Sunday. Don't get me wrong I love my family, but damn this girl needs a break.

Which tattoo parlor shall we go to? I already have my tat picked out. Wouldn't mommy dearest just love that. She freaked with the ear. Oh how I love to torture that woman. ;)

It's me again said...

Oh yeah, I just remembered your stringing-up-and-poking-with-stick comment ass! But I guess there are times when I deserve it (my many attempted walking episodes), therefore, I will let that one slide.