So how have things been going? I had a mighty fine day, but while taking a nap just a half hour ago, my cell phone rings. On the screen it said that Shaina was calling. Turns out it was her mother, to tell me that the mono shit in her throat "has just taken a turn for the worse and her throat had swelled up again. She's back on the IV."
I'm fucking terrified. Shaina's been in the hospital for let's see, three days. I think today is the fourth. I was just talking to her yesterday and she seemed to be really getting better because talking wasn't as much of a problem as it had been before. But since I've just heard that it got worse, I really don't know what to think. I don't know much about this mono shit, obviously because I don't know the rest of it's fucking name. But I hear about it from time to time.
If there's one type of situation that I hate and fear the most, in all honesty; is hospital situations. Even though that show House with Hugh Laurie and his scraggly scumbag beard fucking rules, I fucking hate hospitals. They're never a good place. Not even when babies are born because when I went to the hospital when my sister was born and that was not cool at all. The only decent thing during that whole experience was when my mom let me eat the chocolate pudding in the cute little pink hospital tupperware that it came in.
I can't remember the last time that I went to hospital, but I have gone to someplace to get an x-ray. They made me drink this thick white barium shit and I shit out white fucking shit the next day. Sometime around that, I also had to go get a blood sample. They strapped that heroin users' rubber tubing around my arm and I watched the vile fill up with red stuff. It was pretty cool, but the big black guy who was taking my blood wasn't very nice. I would make a great heroin addict, you know.
In other news, I'm typing on a whole new fucking computer and I'm not used to speed and well, the ability to do anything. A Dell XPS 400, man. 19-inch monitor and pretty much everything else that I could possibly want in a computer. Dude, when I walked up to the door yesterday when coming home and saw the big fatass Dell box through the glass, I yelled, "MY COMPUTER'S HERE!" I never yell. That was quite an action. I never yell because my James Earl Jones-like voice doesn't allow me to. I've lost the ability to scream like a normal girl. You know, that really loud, obnoxious, screechy high scream that is always accompanied with cheesy 1950s horror flicks. Have you ever noticed that Nosferatu looks like Willem Dafoe? No wonder he was the vampire in Shadow of the Vampire.
Damn, talk about obvious right there. But it's always important to include Willem Dafoe into your day as much as possible.
There was a field trip today to the Princeton University Art Museum. Nice place with nice art and shitty people. The people were real uptight about staying away from the plexi-glassed artwork, because a fucking kid once cut their face when they bumped into it. Yeah, I know I'm lame but I don't think I'm lame enough to actually smash my fucking goddamn head onto a piece of plexi-glass. Believe me, I watched this thing on TV where a guy flew head-first through a plexi-glass window on his boat and into the water. His entire face was smashed into pieces and the doctors had to bolt it all back together, piece by piece. The images of him lying on the hospital bed with a flat, floppy face were not what I would call a Cindy Crawford. I learned from watching that, man.
The tour guide was a prick, the security guards were pricks, everybody who worked there was a prick. I wanted out. After looking at the art by myself, of course. I don't need a fucking guide to help me look at art. I interpret it the way I want to, and that includes humor. Fuck your stupid "take-no-shit" snootyness. The guide was pretty interesting and seemed nice for part of the time, but once somebody bumped into by accident a plexi-glassed sculpture or when someone was too close to a painting, her face would crinkle into a dried chili pepper and would bitch and moan at the poor kid.
Tour guides also tend to talk way too fucking much about one thing for too long. Standing there and listening to them blabber on about stupid crap is excruciating. Like I give a flying fuck about how many degrees from the corner of the canvas that the fifty-fifth bristle from the right side of a brush was when the artist applied that one brushstroke? Come on, stop being such a stuck up cunt and showing off your [literally] excessive useless knowledge on things that we shouldn't be standing in front of for more than three minutes. The thing is, everybody analyzes things differently and sees things in different ways than everyone else. Being the extremely opinionated individual myself, I don't want to hear your stupid boring bullshit, be forced to agree with everything that you say and I don't want to stand in one place cracking twenty-five different knuckles three times over and over. Sometimes I wish I could've taken a picture of my face somehow during the tour because I swear you could've read the "You're a fucking moron and I don't want to be here under your stupid fucking rules" expression on my face. Also known as the typical asshole face. I rolled my eyes so many times during the tour that I should be officially cross-eyed in a couple years. I'm serious. If that tour lasted any longer I was about to bust a cap.
On the bus I hung out with Angelica in a three-seater, and since there was no third party this other kid had nowhere to sit, so he had to sit with us. The ride was about an hour long and I was stuck in the middle of the chair. This kid sat pretty snug onto the seat so the entire time I sat with my arms stuck out in front of me like a diligent and polite little motherfucker. It was rather uncomfortable. And then the kid falls asleep with his head on his arm and elbow on his knee. Well, when people fall asleep they don't pay attention to where they're falling. Dude, this kid's body weight was on top of me and holy fucking shit, I could not move. If he put an ounce more pressure on my tits in his slumber, I was about to poke him and tell him that his sleeping habits were not appropriate.
At the primetime of pain, he woke up and apologized. Thank goodness. Of course I forgave the kid. When you gotta sleep, you gotta sleep. He was real nice about it. I mean if he were like Axl Rose or some shithead like that and said something to me like, "You're invading my motherfucking territory, motherfucker," then I would've smashed his huge balls into mini matzah ball soup.
After we left Princeton, the majority vote on the bus made for everyone to eat at the local Taco Bell in Hillsborough. Even though Taco Bell is okay to say the most, there was a bagel store next door so me and a number of others ditched the tools at Taco Bell and crossed the grassy knoll to Bagels-4-U. Since I had no breakfast and by what Angelica says, "a monster," I got bacon and cheese on an onion bagel, and another everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese. The second bagel was originally intended to be saved for later on (possibly tomorrow), but my old habit kicked in and I ate it right when I finished the first bagel. Jesus Christ.
Angelica and I were all wondering for minutes on whether this was a church or not. And why it was so big. It was the damn college.
Nice campus, eh?
Sexy. Reminds me of Talking Heads.
I hope my future boyfriend looks like this.
Greeks have a tendency to be born with a birth defect which does not allow them to have limbs.
I see people dancing, I see people waving sparklers, and I see horses playing leapfrog with people. This is a joyful work of art.
Damn, she's sexy.
This thing seriously scares the shit out of me.
Sexual harassment during ancient Greek times.
A wall with mosaics.
This is either a fountain or a Greek bath or some shit. Looks really nice though. I want something like that in my future pimp mansion.
This sign was posted between the two stalls in the girls' bathroom at Bagels-4-U. I love how they worked so hard to make the writing so fancy and even include a border to cut out those nice, rounded edges. Holy shit.
This shit for some reason always cracks me up. No pun intended.
Christina N. @ 7:45 PM
