- What I'm Feeling, As I'm Feeling It
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Past the Point of Mattering
I don’t need to pull a disappearing act.
All I need to do is turn my back.
And face away.
And when you call my name,
(again, just one more time)
I only pretend not to hear.
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Ashamed to say I know a couple of the main players. Biblically.
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Watch it. That’s my Spleen.
What is it with there being 867 Doctor shows on TV these days? ER, Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice, House, Scrubs, General Hospital, Third watch (paramedics AND firemen- awesome), Nip/Tuck, Mercy, Nurse Jackie…I could keep going but I’m boring myself. There’s a sick fascination with the sick. People enjoy watching others suffering because it isn’t their own and they can rejoice in that. I mean, I can get my arms around that. ER was always kind of hard for me to watch because I’m not so into bicycle spokes protruding from people’s chests, but those who can’t do, teach. Sooo….those who can’t operate, watch. Fine. But what’s with the unbelievably sexually charged operating rooms? Doctors making sex eyes at each other over a triple bypass patient? Roommates having arguments around the curtain of a trauma victim on the table? Love triangles between RN, oncologist and plastic surgeon? Its like an extreme humanizing or de-superhero-ing of doctors who, let’s be honest, should be pretty damn close to superhuman. These are the people we entrust to save lives and fix broken human bodies. Why would anyone WANT to strip doctors and surgeons of their superhuman strengths and powers? I don’t want my life in human hands. I want my life in the hands of people with magical powers who don’t have the possibility of human error. I don’t my doctors hitting on each other while they’re inside my torso mucking around in my organs. There should be nothing more on their minds than fixing shit inside and getting out. I want everything put back in place, right where its supposed to be. I’m good with thinking my doctors as have no lives outside of the operating room to distract them while they’re in there. I am the star of your show, sir or ma’am. Get in, fix, get the fuck out. Thanks.I never liked Addison or Meredith anyway. They look like bitches.
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Never really thought about it. Now I will.
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Finally! A way to be SAFE!
I think the clowns are a nice touch.
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John Mayer, You Are an Arrogant Dingaling.
(484) John Mayer’s mother should have swallowed him when she had the chance.*
I agree. You are worthless, but for the playing of your overworked guitars.
*courtesy of TFLN.com
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The combination of the unstable, wiggling ankles, the failed…FAILED attempts at recovery and the hysterics of the newsanchors = I can not pull myself together. HAHAAHAHAHHAHAHSNORTSNORTSNORTHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
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Rainbow Umbrellas and Duck Boots
So. Apparently me and my roommate are lesbians. At least the vibe we apparently give OFF is a distinct “I like girls” vibe. Not that this is what we’re going for, but its starting to look more and more like Karis and I are the Village Lesbians. Which is a feat difficult to achieve when you consider we are two very straight women. Less difficult when you consider the fact that we are two women living together in the West Village of Manhattan New York. I mean you’d assume there’d be other way more lesbian-y couples to take the token title away from us. There are SO many cute, real live lesbians in the Village. We live near Christopher Street for Christ’s sake. But we’re really just the best of friends. We love each other to death. Like….Platonically. I mean, yeah, we do laundry together. Go grocery shopping together. Have buddy date nights together. I guess we do share my Rainbow umbrella when its raining out, sometimes. Which could look questionable to the average eye. In the Village. So what if we have matching Duck Boots. They were totally in Vogue this fall and look stunningly adorable with skinny jeans and a flannel shirt. Occasionally, we’ll hold hands when we skip to the subway to go to work. Together. Because we work together.
Oh God. We’re the cute lesbian couple of Hudson and Barrow.
We are NOT lesbians. We are both very much enraptured with the male species. We refer to our past lives as men at least once a day. The statement “I want at LEAST one more virgin before I get married” has definitely left the mouth of one of us. Doesn’t matter who said it. Point being, we have attitudes much more in tune with mens attitudes concerning women…..but concerning men. And despite the fact that we’ve made it a habit to routinely congratulate each other on the health and beauty of our vaginas, (surprisingly boosting to the self esteem in a wolrd of ugly, abused vaginas) it would probably take a great deal of money (or a suggestion from Ryan Reynolds, Gerard Butler, or Robert Downey Jr.) to make either one of us even consider making a meal out of feminine nether regions. Gross. GROSS. We both (highly) appreciate the beauty of Men’s bodies (note the capitolization) and refreshing lack of female angst. I feel 100% comfortable saying I am POSITIVE that either one of us would choose male company over female.
Unless, of course, it were each other.
