Cyclothymia

Muffy Sank to the Bottom of the Stairs

This picture does not do the damage I've done to myself any justice. The swelling was spectacular and you can't really see it from this angle. It was the sort of swelling that inspires actual gasps of horror from strangers on ferries and offers of transport from chivalrous men. I had other softballs lower on my leg and my other knee, so basically my whole lower body was one big, puffy, horror show. Rawr. BTW - I don't recommend googling 'elephantitis fetish'. I don't know why I do these things, but I do, so you don't have to.

I was going to write this whole super clever post about how this tragedy came to pass, but it turns out it can be summed up pretty quickly:

Nantucket causes the munchies. We ate every hour on the hour, with snacks to keep our energy up in between. If you eat a bagel, an egg and cheese sammich, a pb&j, fish tacos, cheese nips, kielbasa, and three beers before 6pm, your ass will erupt from your jeans when you squat to stretch them out, you will be forced to wear 3in fuck-me-heels to match your only other pair of going out jeans, and you will publicly mangle yourself as a result. In 3 days I got so fat that I BROKE MY PANTS. And then myself.

Luckily I was picked up and dusted off by a FINE radiologist*, going on to party for another 3 hours. It wasn't until I woke up the next morning that I had any idea it was so bad.

Speaking of waking up...I opened my eyes in the morning to see my roommate crawling into bed. I had earplugs in and hadn't heard anything, so I assumed she was just getting back from the bathroom, and went back to sleep. It turns out that she'd brought a guy home and screwed him about 10 feet from me ON THE FLOOR. It's the thought of the varnish chaffing that horrifies me. Then he curled up in the fetal position, and stayed the night, naked, under a throw blanket. She had just shown him out. Somebody needs a WWMD bracelet. I will never sleep without earplugs again. Never.

The funny thing is that I also have an eye mask, which I wasn't wearing, but that she apparently tried to put on me as I slept. Because, you know, then if I'd heard the squishy sounds of sex and woken up, I would have been all, "Oh, I can't see anything. I guess there isn't penetration going on within arm's reach. Phew."

So, anyway, I've picked out my outfit for the next Figawi:

 

* I was fricking catnip to the doctors - a radiologist, an otolaryngologist, an ER doc...do I smell like a nurse?

No Blowjob For Tad

My momma always said don't marry for money, but go where the rich boys are and fall in love. With that in mind, I'm packed and ready to go spend memorial day weekend at Figawi, half-heartedly fending off the advances of drunken sailors. My motto for the weekend is WWMD: What Would Muffy Do? I've got my party pearls on and will let you know the depths to which Muffy sank when I get back.

A Bit Much Before 9am

Groggy, barely processing, I'm standing in a long line at Starbucks behind a woman wearing a gold lamé sweater, stirrup pants, and ankle-high patent leather stilettos. She is waggling. Her butt. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back. And. Fucking. Forth. A few minutes later she starts moving her feet, and I realize she's practicing salsa. In line. At Starbucks. At 8:30am.

Dear Jeebus,

Like everyone else, I have a few requests:

1. Please strike me blind.
2. Please immediately immolate any individual who cannot resist the (oh so tempting) allure of wearing lamé before 9pm. I hear lamé is very flammable. Go Old Testament on their ass, you know you want to. With all the cyclones and earthquakes lately you must be missing the personal touch.
3. Get me my coffee ASAP.

Sincerely,
Your Thoroughly Creeped Out Friend.

Officially Done With This Behavior

6 Shots
1 Party Hat
2 Cover Charges
1 Great Band
1 Broken Plant
4 Random Bruises
6 Mardi Gras Necklaces
1 Case of Semi-Public Urination (not me)
1 Angry Note From Neighbor (re: urination)
1 Case of Public Snogging
1 Request to Get A Room
2 Piggy Back Rides
2 Oddly Placed Scratches
1 Spice Girls T-Shirt
3 Cigarettes
1 Disgusting Bathtub
+2 Days Hungover
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1 End of Term Celebration & 1 Permanently Partied Out Girl

Seriously.

Take a class, learn something.

I just handed in my term paper on the developmental sexual dimorphism of the preoptic area of the hypothalmus. Really sounds like a page turner, I know. However, despite the rather dry vocab, sexual differentiation is a truly fascinating process, due in no small part to the voyeuristic, comical, and sometimes sad behavioral testing methods used to measure the effects of various physiological manipulations.

What did you do last night? Oh, watched rats hump each other under a red lamp.

Some of the testing is done under "sub-optimal" conditions, which either means a scary new environment, a less than receptive female (if you feed them a few drinks they stop resisting so much), or, and this is my favorite, restricting access to the receptive female by tethering the male to limit his movement. One tiny little rat harness + one lusty but coy female = some aggravated rats around the water dropper in the morning.

Dude! I was SO ready to go but there was something holding me back. I don't know what it was. Maybe we've just grown apart.

I ended up writing the damn thing in one solid 8 hour stretch because I procrastinated for so fucking long. I had a thorough outline done, but still. Half of me is rather proud of what I managed to pull off, but the other half is kicking myself senseless BECAUSE IT WON'T ALWAYS WORK OUT THAT WAY.

What? You want to fail out of medical school? You want to know only 3/4 of the operation you are doing? You are proud that you have no self-discipline or work ethic? Sit up straight, and eat your breakfast.

Yeah, that part of me is really loud and really annoying.

Oh, one other thing. You might want to read up on the role of COX-II as far as masculinization of the brain during the perinatal period goes. Exposing a perinatal male rat to the potent COX-II inhibitor indomethacina "markedly" impairs adult sexual arousal mechanisms...the poor things just aren't interested when they get older. Latency to mounting? Long. Latency to intromission? Long. Note that's "inTROmission" not "inTERmission". Sadly, there is no half-time show or popcorn in the little tiny rat cages. Honestly, though, there should be SOMETHING to help alleviate the awkward mood. Ejaculation? Never. No word on cuddling.

Why is this relevant, you ask? Well two other (mild) COX inhibitors are asprin and acetaminophen. Yep, rats exposed perinatally to asprin show similar, although reduced, impairment of function as adults. Humans have very similar mechanisms, so the next time you or the guy you're with can't get it up, you can blame it on your/his mother and her filthy asprin addiction (as if you/he hadn't already). And if you're pregnant? How bad is that headache, REALLY? You horrible, horrible mother. See, it always comes down to mothers sucking.

ps. Just in case some fundy out there stumbles across this, mangles the science in their own special way, and starts having urges to go burn down a drugstore - asprin fucks with arousal mechanisms, which are not related to sexual preference. Asprin might make you flaccid and prone to buying sports cars, but it doesn't make Teh Gay.