New Bike Route, First Spill in a Long Time

This is my old route.

This is my new route.

It skims 100 meters off my trek, and replaces two hills that require a little work to one hill I can practically coast up.

Unfortunately, most of the new route is a dirt road, and part of it is a foot path through the woods and around some building. On the way home from work yesterday I went over this concrete slab lying across the path, but took little note of it because it was just a drop, not a real obstruction. This morning, however, going the other direction, going quickly, going through the morning dew with shitty brakes, it was a definitely a real obstruction. It obstructingly sent my ass tumbling over the handle bars and onto the ground is what it did! You know what, though? It was worth it to find out that I'm still young enough to take a spill like that with no lasting pain and ride the rest of the way to work with no delay.

More Success than Not (though it was close)

This weekend we threw our first warm weather party of the year. Things quicky got, not exactly out of control, but you might say the control was sub par. This was in large part due to the arrival of Donatas and Giedre first. Donatas had some very tasty moon shine, man it was good.

• Success: drinking tasty moonshine.

I mean, this was so good I couldn't believe some farmer made it in the woods. It was easily better than cheap whiskey, which is what it tasted most similar to. However, this led to us going through it pretty quickly, which led to lowered hand-eye coordination and time sense for both of us. That was particular detrimental to our Beirut game because partners were chosen randomly and Donatas and I ended up together.

• Unsuccess: losing the first 2 games of Beirut.

First Gvidas and Linas beat us, finishing with two bounced balls which both made it when we had exactly four cups left. Why didn't we block them? I tried, and I almost got one, but I was distracted by Donatas's absence! I realized at the last moment that I have to block both and ended up knocking in the one I almost blocked and letting the other one bounce in too. Where was he? Ten feet away doing something.

While we were getting the grill going my special lady came over and said something, and I replied with a really hilarious remark, a perfectly cued and timed "that's what she said" style remark.

• Success: making a hilarious a joke.

It was so funny that Linas, Paulius, and I then talked about how none of us could believe I came up with it so rapidly, instantly really. It was like I was born to make that joke even though I didin't know it. What was that joke, exactly?

• Unsuccess: forgetting all the funny jokes you made last night.

I talked about it with Linas the next day, neither of us could remember.

Then came the meat. I'd prepared chicken wings and a pork loin, which I was precooking in the oven. I wasn't confident that it'd cook through on the grill. We got everything going and put on my wings, and the sausages, burgers, and two steaks that Linas and Paulius had brought. All that stuff took up the whole grill, so the pork loin had to wait. But when it came off it was delicious.

• Success: eating delicious barbequed food.

I told the men to get some more embers going for the pork loin. When I went inside I found that it was already completely cooked.

• Unsuccess x 2: losing track of time and burning too much wood.

I pretended this wasn't true, though, and I put it on the grill for a couple mintes. Then, Voilà , it's done! We ate all the food with my homemade barbeque sauces.

• Success x 2: making delicious barbeque sauces, plus my spicy whiskey one was better than the non-spicy brandy one I made fore my special lady.

Everybody loves a good sauce, right? Spice rules! Whiskey beats brandy every time!

Then Donatas and I took on Egle and Gvidas for another round of Beirut. Egle is one of the best players around, so they should have beat us for sure if Gvidas and Linas had beaten us. But no, we prevailed! I don't think I sunk all ten cups by myself, but I did sink the first six at least.

• Success: redeeming yourself at the Beirut table.

However, Donatas was so happy he gave me a high five that I can still feel on my hand four days later.

• Unsuccess: hurting your Beirut partner.

Then it was time to mellow out. Because women love to have their girl-time, the men decided to leave them be and went out to the beer barrel down the street for a drink. We are aware that ladies need time in person to talk about their ovulations and shopping plans, and we don't mind accommodating them.

• Success x 3: drinking and winning at cards while accommodating your special lady

Apparently, we may have overestimated the amount of girl-time that could be spent productively. Actually, what is more likely is that we underestimated how long we spent out. But, really, what is most likely is they my special lady, Asta, Giedre, and Egle overestimated how long we spent out and convinced each other we must have done it because we're inconsiderate—which you know is the opposite of the truth if you've been paying any attention at all. It was a classic example of groupthink, unfortunately not an atypical result of girl-time.

• Unsuccess: upsetting your special lady.

Sunday we still had a couple guests over, so we figured the best way to get through the dry pork loin was with sandwiches. I baked two loaves of beer bread with left over beer and 24 onion mustard rolls.

• Success: baking delicious food.

Four adults, one child, and one toddler managed to eat all the rolls and one of the loaves of bread in one day. It was a fun day.

• Successes: bearing mention too, we fired up the sauna and had a good time in there, went swimming both days, and got rather toasty in the sun on Sunday.

Sunday is my daughter's favorite day (because it's so sunny, unlike Windsday).

Thanks Time

As always we celebrated Thanksgiving on the Saturday following the holiday. That week I gave all of my students articles to read about the objectivist perspective on it.

We decided to do a smaller, more family oriented celebration this year, which we soon realized was a mistake when we couldn't invite everyone we wanted to. But everything was delicious:

• 16 lb. Turkey, freshly slaughtered and kefir marinated
• Gravy
• Cream of Pumpkin Soup
• Potato Dinner Rolls from my McCall's cookbook
• Roasted Carrots with Whiskey Glaze
• Sausage Stuffing
• Guacamole and fresh vegetables
• Potato and Bacon Salad
• Sauerkraut Rye Bread
• Fresh Pumpkin Pie 1 normal, 1 with whiskey mixed in
• Fresh Pumpkin Cake

The pumpkin cake was unplanned. I made two pies, but that only used up about two thirds of the batter! To use up the rest of the batter without a pie crust to pour it into I mixed in some flour and baking power, tossed in some walnuts, and baked it. It turned out really well, and it stayed moist for a whole week as I took a piece to work with my lunch each day.

The turkey was succulent. I'll be marinating it this way from now on.

The stuffing was the best part of the meal, as always. Well, maybe the gravy was better, but when combined they were unstoppable.

After dinner we played Oh Hell a couple times, then Octopus, then Tūkstantis, then we hit the sauna and the pool. The pool was frozen, so we went polar bear style. I'm not sure how it happened, but after jumping into the hole in the ice I had some scrapes on my legs. Very fun night!

Tonsillectomy

I'm very anti-surgery, but after having tonsillitis and laryngitis four times last winter, I decided to do it. Especially after the surgeon showed me how much puss is in them when I'm feeling healthy. That was over the summer.

To the hospital I brought The Lord of the Rings, which I'm half way through. I also brought half of the 7th Harry Potter book on tape, which I have not read before, on my mp3 player. All I could fit was 14 chapters, which I will comment on more later.

I had to show up at the hospital at 7 a.m. unfed and unfueled. They had lost my file when I went to registration, but for some reason that was no problem, they just started me up a new one. I took it to go meet my surgeon. He didn't show up until 8, but I suppose maybe sometimes it takes people an hour to get through registration (it only took me ten minutes), so he tells all his patients to show up at 7. I'm glad I was smart enough to arrange a book on tape for myself, because at 7:10 with no nourishment or coffee my eyes were not yet ready for reading.

He showed up, looked at my blood test results and the dispatch from my family physician. I had to take them downstairs to get my health history. What's that, you say? I don't know. But I got so lost on the way, it was just unbelievable. First I was on the wrong floor, then I was in the wrong wing, then I just walked right past it.

Got that, went back up to the 8th floor, found out I was scheduled for 11 o'clock (nobody told me this, but I noticed it on the secretary's clipboard), go into the room where three other guys are, which means I get the bed by the sink. I get changed and then taken to the inspection room, where a young women looks me over; I guess it was an intern doing this for practice. She asked me about anesthesia, asked me if I want local or general, but I hadn't discussed this with my surgeon, so she went to get him. He recommended general, which sounded great to me, since my only anesthesia ever has been getting my wisdom teeth out, which was more fun than practically any chemical experience I can recall. My father recounts it thus: on the way home, I only took break in laughing hysterically to spit blood in a McDonald's cup. He wishes he'd brought along a camcorder.

Then, back in the room, came the anesthesiologist. She called up each of us individual to sign off, and I took the longest because I read things before I sign them. Besides that, though, I also asked her questions. I told her that just yesterday a colleague told me general anesthesia takes five years off your life, is that true? She told me it was an urban legend, but that got my roomies started asking questions too. Then the anesthesiologist got frustrated and answered very tersely memory and coordination are weak for a few days and that's it.

Half way through signing I stopped to ask about whether the choice of local or general anesthesia would affect my release--as I had told my surgeon, I was determined to leave today. I live literally five minutes away and could return if there was any bleeding. The anesthesia made no difference, and I was in for the jollies, so I signed up for general.

After a few hours of Harry Potter they came to get me. I called the wife and told her I'd be done in about an hour, and to bring the camcorder! As I went in things began to get surreal: taking off my crocs and putting on a hairnet, sticking my right arm into my pants so that it wouldn't fall off the stretcher once I go under...and then I woke up.

No jollies. Well, I suppose I felt jolly for about 15 seconds while I was still under the impression that I ought to be jolly. Then I realized that whatever they gave me wasn't nearly as jolly as Valium and nitrous oxide. I was asked something. I think they asked me if I'm light-headed, and I said sort of. I crawled back onto the stretcher and they rolled me back to my room. On the way I saw my special lady and baby waiting for me, and that was jolly indeed, but probably not worth video taping.

My women had to leave soon because of parking. No free parking at the hospital. I went back to Harry Potter until 3:45--that's when the workday ends on Fridays in education, so I was getting very antsy. My roommates' surgeons had come in to see them almost as soon as they'd been rolled in, and I'd been waiting more than two hours. I needed to know if there were any complications before the doc left so I'd know if I could leave.

I went to look around the inspection room, then I went down to his office and his door was ajar. I knocked and went it. "How are you, what's up," he said. I was still groggy and didn't know what to say. "Uh," I began. Then I added, "I thought you were gonna come to me." Well put.

He told me he'd come see me in a few minutes, and he did. First he told my other roommate that his surgery went perfectly. Then he came over and told me mine also went "fine" but that my pus filled tonsils sure looked like shit. Well he didn't say shit, but he said they did not look nice. They must never look nice or else why would you cut them out? Therefore, if mine were that much worse than usual, I conclude he must of been thinking they look like shit.

I told him I still wanted to go home, and he said I could but he doesn't recommend it. There could still be bleeding and...what was the other thing? I don't remember. This was about 4:26 p.m.; as soon as he left I wrote my special lady an sms: "I'll get a shot of pain killers around 7-8 o'clock, then home!"

Next sms at 6:05 p.m.: "I don't know if I should come come tonight. My throat hurts too much to drink, so I need the IV for now...I'll let you know."

By 6:30 I'd decided I couldn't go home. I was thinking about how crazy it would be to go home when I can't get any fluids in me. This is after seriously considering giving myself an IV drip at home. Sms: "Copy as many chapters of harry potter as you can onto your mp3 player to bring me. You can come whenever you want, bring some games and ice cream!"

Nobody came to visit because the baby's molars are coming in. I still had several harry potter chapters left, but they wouldn't last through the night, and I didn't know how much sleep I would be able to get.

Now it's time to explain why I didn't bring more audio book. I thought as I was copying it onto the mp3 player, If I come out of this surgery as high as I was after getting my wisdom teeth out, I should definitely have some good tunes available. So I left myself Creedence Clearwater Revival...and Movie Soundtracks by Tetukas 2008...and Sublime...and The Very Best of Queen...how silly could I possibly feel? Well whatever that maximum is, that's how I felt.

Estimating that it might be more comfortable to read now than when the lights are out, I switched to the Lord of the Rings. I finished up the battle at Helm's Deep and decided to go to sleep 7:33. I was in the middle of a chapter, but I was feeling okay after the pain killer shot in the ass cheek and decided to fall asleep while I can. It worked. The last sms I wrote before going to sleep was "Phone's dying. Pick me up with cards at 8. Love to A." That's because the last message I got included a self portrait of my daughter all sad because I'm in the hospital.

I woke up to take a whiz around four. I'd woken up at least twice before that because I'd caught my catheter on something while moving my arm. I listened to half a chapter of audio book before ralizing I could still fall asleep again. Hooray!

I woke up and didn't know what time it was, because my phone was dead. There were no clocks around. It was dark though, so I figured 6-7. Audio books.

When it started to get brighter outside I began to worry. I didn't know what the schedule for the IV drip, pain killers, and check up was for the morning. I'd written 8 o'clock purely from optimism, and now it was too late to write again to delay. I went out to the hallway and could find neither clock nor sister...I mean nurse. In Lithuanian nurses are called sisters.

The nurses' computer was left unattended. I move the mouse and am not at the log in screen. Nope, I'm right at the desktop! It's 7:45. I press on the e icon excitedly, but then dismay as the hospital intranet logo pops up, but then rejoice as i type a y and yahoo.com pops up all by itself! I check email and face, and wrote this in a comment: "...i'm in the hospital illegally joinking internet acces through a secretary's computer."

I get up from the computer rather quickly, because I don't want to get in trouble with the nurse. I still want her to take care of me as soon as possible. Soon she shows up and we have a stupid conversation:

She: Hi.
I: Hi.
She: What can I do for you?
I: I was wondering when am I going to get this IV drip?
She: Let me check your file to see if you're supposed to get another one.
I: IF??? What do you mean IF? Why would they have left the catheter in last night if I wasn't supposed to get another one?
She: Okay, so you are.
I: When?
She: We'll let you know.
I: Let's do it now.
She: Oh, so now you're going to determine your course of treatment?
I: Why not? My family's coming to pick me up soon and I don't want to make my kids wait longer than necessary.
She: *sign* Okay, I'll be in shortly.
I: Thank you!

She did come in shortly, hook up the IV, and give me another shot in the ass cheek. My audio book was done, and I was reading my book again. A nurse had brought breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating anything, even though I hadn't eaten for 36 hours, which is the longest fast I can remember ever having. I did taste the cream of wheat. It tasted like crap. The compote was good.

The family showed up around 8:45. The IV had barely dripped, and we fiddled with it to hurry it up. It sped up a little, but it still looked like forever. I told the nurse it had gone much faster the night before and asked her to speed it up, but she said a 2nd day catheter isn't supposed to drip as fast, it's dangerous.

The kids weren't being great sports about waiting, and by now the pain killers had kicked in enough that I could hydrate myself. So, when the nurse left my special lady went to tell whatever doctor was on call that I was leaving, and I removed the IV tube myself; luckily I quickly figured out how to stop the dripping (otherwise the whole bag would have dripped out in seconds). I got changed and went to find somebody to remove the catheter. When the nurse saw me she rolled her eyes and assigned an intern to remove it, apparently she wanted nothing more to do with me.

I've been home for just over 24 hours. It hurts worse than yesterday, but the surgeon told me it would be so. I'm drinking Nimisil and Ibuprofen every 6-8 hours. It's hurts bad enough, but it's not as bad as tonsillitis--when the medicine is working well I can eat, not comfortably, but I can do it. The one thing I really don't understand is why they didn't prescribe me better pain killers. I assume it's a stupid policy to stem corruption that exists because liberals give drug dealers too much leeway.

So ended my only operation in Lithuania. Let's hope it's my last.

Don't you hate the Bus?

I am devastated by a change in my bus schedule. I will now have to get up 11 minutes earlier each day, unless I take drastic measures: buy a timer for the coffee maker and prep the water and coffee the evening before, as well as my bag lunches; no more showering or shaving on weekdays; go to sleep already wearing tomorrow's suit and tie; sleep in the car; connect alarm clock to ignition system so that car starts automatically and warms up during the alarm clock's ten minute snooze; use kitchen balcony as a drive through to get my coffee and bag lunch; talk wife into serving me my coffee and bag lunch through the kitchen balcony.

Never Ask Female Students How They're Doing

I always ask students some simple questions to start class as a warm up exercies. How was your weekend, how are your classes going, stuff like that. Here's how today went:

Female Student: *chuckles randomly*
Professor: What's up?
Female Student: Nothing.
Professor: Come on, let's all laugh together!
Female Student: I just can't understand anything today.
Professor: What's the matter, up all night doing homework?
Female Student: No, just my woman's disease.
Professor: O...kay... How about you, how are you? (to another female student)
Other Female Student: I have lots of problems.
Professor: Is there something I can do, what's the problem? (thinking it's something academic, which of course would be the only appropriate thing for her to mention)
Other Female Student: It's very bad, terrible family problems.
Professor: Okay! let's just get started with class.

Crap on a Coffee

As I was finishing up Shattered, by Dick Francis, on the bus this morning, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, my thermos feels pretty warm. I'm sure glad it's not leaking." Two minutes later when I finished the book I realized that my pants were wet. And not from pee. Though I would have rather pissed my pants than what did happen.

I removed my thermos on the crowded bus to see where the leak was. A tremendously helpful old man said to me, "Your thermos is leaking." I replied, "Oh really? Thanks. I didn't know that. I was taking it out to pour boiling coffee directly into my mouth." Well actually I just made that reply up, what I actually said was "Yes, thanks."

Then get this: as it seemed to me that there was no leak in the construction of the thermos, it must be that the cap is not secured, so I unscrewed the cup to check. What do you think happened? About a cupful of hot coffee poured all over my hand, sweater sleeve, and coat sleeve. Why the hell did I do that?! I suppose if I was holding a bomb in my hand, and wondering if it might blow up, I'd press the red button to find out.

I smiled at everyone who groaned at me, because what else could I do, cry?

When I got to work I had to spend a jolly morning inserting toilet paper between each of 838 pages of my Bedford Handbook, which is such a useful book that I keep it always in my brief case. Now it lies on my desk, five times its normal thickness, waiting for osmosis to run its course.

p.s. Shattered is not a very good book. It's okay, but predictable and I couldn't relate to any of the characters.

Aras and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Before I begin, I should note that my sensitivity to my special lady's menses has returned. If it seems like I'm overly upset, that's why (I can't tell myself because I have PMS).

8:05 a.m. I realized I forgot my watch. I said, "Crap! I should keep a spare watch in my brief case."

8:12 a.m. I missed the second of two buses I can take to work on Wednesdays without being too late. That means my special lady had to drive me to work through morning traffic. I said, "Shit!"

8:45 a.m. I found a watch in my pants pocket. I said to my students, "Wow! I thought today was going to be a rough day, but this is a good omen. Today's going to be a good day after all!"

11:45 a.m. On my way from one workplace to another I stopped I stopped at Maxima to by a liter of kefir for lunch (I'm on the no solids on certain Wednesdays diet). I was really hungry though, so I thought I'd skip the diet today if they still have the Kebab place in the shopping center. They didn't, so I bought the kefir and said to myself, "Well, maybe this is God's way of helping me with my diet."

12:30 p.m. It took me an extra fifteen minutes to walk to work because it was so icy. I got to my office and sat down, very hungry. I unscrewed the cap of my kefir to find that it had been opened already, and about a quarter of it had been drunk, before I purchased it. Because of the sidewalk-iciness and ton of work I had to do, I couldn't afford to go back even though I did have the receipt. I said to myself, "Fuckin shit you goddam mother fucker, fuck you! Nahui blet, fuck you!" Well, I actually just thought that one, or felt the equivalent.

12:45 p.m. I went to get some chinese food across the street. It's cheap for the lunch specials, so I go there sometimes (but never on Wednesdays). I ordered without looking at the menu to save time, because I know the menu, but they didn't bring the tea with the food as they usually do. Though they did bring it later, they brought it late enough that I fretted about not checking the menu, because maybe they actually changed lunch specials. Also, for some reason, they brought me double cabbage salad insead of steamed rice. I guess they ran out of rice, but I couldn't ask it that's why because the waitress is actually Chinese; so, I just said to myself, "Well, maybe this is God's way of helping me with my diet...again...He seems to be going nuts with that today."

3:15 p.m. my boss comes to get me for a meeting: it's an anual "academic soviet and commutiy meeting." I might have know about it, but I don't pay attention to bullitin boards (I'm from the 20th century in America, so...I only pay attention to emails and what's new on the website). At least we were late for it together. But why they would schedule a two hour meeting at 3 when work ends at 4:30 is beyond me. So not only did my miss my 4:42 bus, I also missed the 5:05 bus. All I could by this point say was "Ugh," and frown. I missed my barber appointment.

6:12 p.m. When I got most of the way home with the #50 bus, the online schedule for the #112 bus turned out to be bullshit; my connection would not be coming soon, as it should. By then all I was too tired to say anything besides "Please come pick me up" to my special lady over the phone. She did: she's the best! Even if her estrogen does invade me like the hordes of Mongolians once a month...

Phony Backgammon

I'm tired of my stupid phony backgammon! On the way to work I read for 35 minutes on the bus, but on the way home I'm too tired, so usually I play backgammon on my phone. It's a total crock though. Whatever the most dramatic thing that could ever happen is happens 92% of the time, which is 8.5 times more than is statistically probably. Whenever I think, "oh, if i got double fours now I could cinch this thing," I get double fours. Whenever I think "I'll totally win this as long as he doesn't get a 2 and a 5," that's exactly what he gets. Over and over again, I count on it! I'm afraid it's training me to play too conservatively. What a pain in the ass.

Flustered? What a bone head.

Yesterday I was a bit flustered after work, apparently. I walked out as usual to Kalvarijų Street. Usually I just flag down a micro bus, but this time I had a bunch of bus tickets burning a hole in my pocket. I began crossing the street to walk to the bus stop, when I immediately noticed a great micro bus: I usually take the five, which runs more often, but when I get a fifteen it's better, it brings me closer to home. So I dashed through the intersection just in the nick of time. Actually I wasn't in the nick of time, the micro had to wait for me during a green light, but I made it. Awesome.

I had no money. Not awesome. I told the driver crap, I don't have any cash, I'll have to get out and go to an ATM. The kind man told me just to sit down this time and forget it. Awesome. As we drive by Kalvarijų Market I reach for my phone. I have to call my special lady to ocme pick me up at the end of the bus route, because the bus doesn't take me all the way home, and it might not be safe to walk home at night. As I did this what do I find but my keys? Oh, yeah, I took the car myself today. Not awesome. I tell the driver to let me out, it seems that I've forgotten something else as well and have to go back.

Here is my walk back. Before I even got the car my wife had already called me to ask why I'm not home yet. I hadn't even left work properly yet.

I had to walk

Professionalism

I had a 40º temperature yesterday (104º Fahrenheit), and I had the shakes, so I called into work sick. I was in real pain. Do you think they told me to stay home and get well soon? No, instead they told me they won’t “tolerate” sick leave, reminded me that I'm still on my trial period, and said it wouldn’t look "professional" to cancel classes—apparently they think it looks more professional to have contagious teachers moaning and shaking throughout class between squirts of Orofar® into their throats. Can you believe that?

p.s. one really great thing about the American heath care system is that they give you pills for everything. Here they give you huge doses of disgusting tea (well, at least there's booze in it)

p.p.s. my special lady was my lady-in-waiting (but for a nobleman). she spent half the day keeping me tucked in, souped up, and forcing me to drink disguisting tea...which did make me better. Unless it was my huge sperm count.

UPDATE: Because I succumbed to the pressure and went to work on Tuesday, I now have complications and am sequestered from the world, including my two special children, for the next five days.

Heart Attack

I had a mild heart attack yesterday, I think. It felt pretty severe, but I didn't collapse or anything. I was teaching class, and we were talking about what makes people attractive. The students were supposed to think of the most attractive person in the world. They were having trouble, so I told them that other quality besides physical appearance make people, honesty or bravery or intelligence. There are three students in the class that know me already and there is one girl who is new. It was her first day, and at this moment she shouted "Barack Obama!" I shuddered violently and grabbed the left side of my chest--ouch, real pain! I told her she wouldn't think so if she'd been to my classes for the past three weeks. I managed to teach all my other students the truth.

Godfried Daniel, Picasa is a Fuckface!

For reasons I'll go into on my other blog, I've chosen to start saying Godfried Daniel around my children instead of God Fucking Damn It! I can't put into words how frustrating it is to download Picasa over and over again from different sites claiming to offer it in English and never get it in English. What's the fuckin deal, can somebody please enlighten me? Does google think that nobody in Lithuania speaks English, and that everybody does speak Lithuanian? Both assertions would be dead wrong. But no, that's not even the problem: I tried turning on a privacy program that hides my IP address, and I still can't get the English version! So please, what is the fucking deal already? I had it at work in English, I had it on my laptop in English, is Picasa simply no longer offered in English?

Unfortunately, I haven't decided on a clean version of "fuckface" yet, so I hope my kids were around this afternoon. I'll take suggestions on that too.

Formerly Painful Brain Surgury

I assume without checking that the HBO show Rome is historically accurate. I find it surprising, therefore, that they performed brain surgery in ancient Rome. And I find it disturbing that they did it with no apparent anesthetic. Most disturbing of all is that they actually show it graphically on HBO. Who wants to see glass bits pulled from a brain and a metal plate inserted below a man's head flesh? Not me.

Luckily the show provides much more graphic sex than brain surgery; I don't mind that so much. I guess I'll keep watching.

UPDATE: Liepa found out that the brain surgery was authentic.

Real Pain

If youve never picked up a bed by accident when you were trying to just lift up the matress and dropped the whole wooden thing on your foot, you've never felt real pain!

Real Pain

You never felt real pain unless you've felt this: my special lady gave me a bite of a breadstick on Saturday, and I bit off enough of it that she had to regrip it before pulling it back. She accidentally got a bunch of my whiskers under her thumb when she regripped, and tore half my lip off trying to get her bread stick back. Well, that's what it felt like, though there wasn't acually any blood or tearing of anything...besides breadstick.

Lyme Disease is Gay

Not sure if I've got lyme disease again, but my lower back and neck are really sore and I'm suffering fatigue (not alcohol related).

The gay thing is that it recurs without being bitten again. Most doctors don't realize this, and some will think you're crazy to suggest it, just because they don't know about it, e.g. my butthead Boston University doctor. I had to insist on a blood test, he wouldn't even do that willingly. Then he called a few days later to apologize, I did have Lyme again, without being bit again. What an ass. This was my second time with it, four years ago. Hopefully it ain't that, or what my ass colleague scared me with, Radiculitis, which isn't exactly eponymous the way I hoped it would be!

UPDATE: feelin better, guess it was just the microbus trip or carrying the 80 pound backpack.

Torture

Ever been head over heels? I am head over heels. And it's only been a week.

Put two and two together? H.O.H. + O.B.1W. = spending every possible minute together, and each impossible minute writing each other sms.

Yesterday she took off back to Vilnius, and yesterday my phone went insane, turning on and off, shooting through the menus of its own accord--it's on the blitz. I wasn't able to use it for several hours.

Those hours were torture.

I saw an sms, ooo I hope it's from her! I was able to open my inbox and see that it was from her--huzzah! "Opening messege..." this always takes forever, but this time it ended not with the opening of the sms but the begining of the crazy cell phone insanity--oh my God!

Oh man, I wish I was reading that sms...dammit...I turn my phone off, take out the battery and sim card, brush them off, and turn it back on again. I did this over and over again, about 35 thousand times, until on the way to the cell phone store I was able to work the phone long enough to read the sms, I was finally able to read it, YEAH! Hoorah! What a sweet sms...let's write a good one back now...oh, no, God NO!

The phone went back on the blitz before I was able to write back, so now I'm considering what would be more torturous: knowing you got an sms you were waiting for but not being able to read it (my former situation), or not getting one you were waiting for at all (her situation).

Not only was I unable to get in touch, not only was I deperately unfulfulling in my wish to make her smile as broadly as I just had, but this was the most crucial moment to be in touch. This is the moment where a clever woman (she is a very clever woman) would say to herself "well, ok, let's see how attentive this bozo is when he can't see/touch me..."

My torture was mitigated by finally getting a call through to explain my perdicament...Thank GOD!

Ass Landing

I fell on my ass for the first time this year. I was walking down the street. At the edge of each curb there's big patches of ice, and this one street I crossed was slippery enough that I totally slipped and landed square on my ass. It didn't really hurt though, but there was somebody directly behind me. I didn't hear him snicker, but if I were he, I would have :(