Mal ,'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
granola bar-
This must be how my dad feels when he wakes up from a dream where he was smoking but he's not had a puff in 30 years.
hmm... apparantly, "just" is my word for the day. I edited out a couple uses and it still got through three times in two sentences.
Back from ultrasound. Briefly: the tech said that I seem to have an involuted cyst (I'm about to look up what that means) on my *left* ovary, which is odd because the pain is mostly on the right. The tech said that the radiologist will read the results and send them to my OB/GYN today, and we go from there. The tech (who I realize is not a doctor) seemed to think that the involuted cyst is not dangerous or a big deal, but of course the radiologist could see something totally different.
No alien baby.
That she was willing to admit to.
Best part? I was already stressed beyond belief when I got there, and while I was registering, I went to scoot the chair back, and it hit a lump or something in the rug, and somehow the chair moved one way and I moved the other (or stayed where I was) and so I ended up on my ass on the ground in front of a waiting room FULL of strangers, who quite reasonably laughed. Several hospital employees ran over to help me (I wasn't hurt, just horribly embarassed at drawing that kind of attention to myself), and if I could have just spontaneously combusted from shame right then and there, I would have.
But since I lack the capacity to self-immolate, I righted my chair, sat down, and burst into loud, honking sobs that I couldn't stop for t looks at watch well, I'm actually *still* teary and trying to hide it from my co-workers.
I know the weepiness is because I was stressed and because I'm still stressed and don't understand what the results really mean -- am I just a great big fat hypochondriac, or is there actually something real causing my pain, because I feel like it could be either -- and I'm embarassed that I can't even operate a CHAIR properly.
I *really* want that beer now.
Teppy needs a hug.
Or maybe a cathartic spanking, I don't know how she rolls.
No alien baby.
Damn.
That she was willing to admit to.
So there's hope.
I *really* want that beer now.
shoves beer and hugs through the internet.
I know the weepiness is because I was stressed and because I'm still stressed and don't understand what the results really mean -- am I just a great big fat hypochondriac, or is there actually something real causing my pain, because I feel like it could be either -- and I'm embarassed that I can't even operate a CHAIR properly.
UGH, Teppy. I'm sorry about the tumble. Totally the last thing you needed.
Can you sneak out during prayer time and get a beer?
{{{{Tep}}}} Have that beer at your desk. By Emperical Decree.
I'm sorry it's been such a crap-ass stressed-out day, Steph.
