Nyotaimori

i suppose that we all have our own particular niches to fill on cementhorizon. kristen lies beautifully, dianna’s in school, sean analyzes sports, jason goes to mexico, robyn hugs hobbits. my role appears to be giving explicit details about the inner workings of my girly bits.

i went to john muir medical imaging lab today to get my chest looked at. lying there in the hospital gown that ties at the back, i waited, polite smile affixed, as they spread goopy stuff all over my right breast and attacked it with a sonic-imaging device. theoretically in this position one might be worried about the outcome or questioning their life choices. i was wondering what to do with my left hand (right arm went behind the head, but what to do with the left? what?), trying to stay awake (it was really warm in there and i was lying down), and contemplating the male equivalent of this procedure (balls).

what kind of hospital gown do boys get? do they get goopy stuff spread on them? does coughing come into the equation? why do we hear so much about the girl tests and nothing about the boy tests on CH? aren’t any of you ever sick?

happily i’m not actually sick. nor is nuala. we are healthy breasted girls.

the raccoons have declared a full scale attack. they are now living underneath the house and actively trying to claw their way through the floor. apparently coming in the window is no longer good enough for them. there was much arguing and browbeating of the raccoon army peons by the captain last night in the form of high-pitched squealing–these raccoons totally believe in corporeal punishment. i am, as yet, unclear on what location in the house they will break through first. my suspicion is either the living room (perhaps they smell the ferrets and want to eat them first) or the guest bedroom (the weakest part of the floor as it’s where the entrance to the crawlspace is located). we need to man these stations and prepare for the attack. those commie bastards aren’t taking over my house on my watch.

thank god i’m house/dog-sitting in orinda this week. they’ll just have to eat mom.

the bay bridge today was drowning. what is it with me, bridges and water lately? thank fuck i’m not a hemophage, because sometimes they can’t cross running water.

i did two semi-bad things this weekend. the first was getting a little too drunk at christine’s birthday party and wallowing in fabric softener smell. the second was throwing kristen’s train cards back in her face when she tried to place her boxcars in a place i wanted to go. the second was by far the worst, though the first was more embarrassing. my insane card throwing behavior though was at least far overshadowed by gene’s tantrum when he threw his chair to the ground. someone should get us an anger management book to share. of course, i’d probably just be yelling at him the whole time, “it’s my turn! give me the book! my turn!”

i even captioned them because i’m no longer too sick. tired of driving, yes. super sick, no. i deleted down from like 120 to 36. none too shabby, ay? i was super proud of my deleting skills.

possibly i flirted with the non-profit owner of the ben and jerry’s in portland today. at least john tried to make me get his phone number. and he gave jason free tea. you might think he was flirting with jason due to that, but no it was me. he thought i wanted the tea. mostly i think he just liked me because i stole ice cream but then confessed and paid for it. considering that it was like $3, that did show a level of honesty that my klepto system is really not prepared for.

then james and i made a disgusting puppet show egged on by jason and his newest purchase from powells, opening mexico to democracy. or, it would have been a puppet show if i’d had a spare pair of socks in my bag. instead it was just me with my hands talking to one another and jason’s hands flying right thru foreplay and just bumping uglies all over the place. mine went more like this:

democracy, the lover: “oh mexico, i’d really love to come and explore your rolling hills and gentle valleys.”

mexico, the virgin: “and i’d love to have you, democracy. but i’m just afraid, you know? you’re so new and different to me. and big. really, really big. i’m afraid it might hurt.”

james: how did mexico really handle democracy?

jason: not well.

me: fucked her up the ass.

jason: hey!…well…yeah.

democracy, the fucker: “i’m sure we could find a back way for me to enter you, mexico. and no one will get hurt, i promise.”

and now, a teaser:

maybe it’s something about hillsboro and god. today driving on highway 26 to hillsboro we spotted a truck with the following spraypainted on the rear end:

3 nails

+ 1 cross

————

= 4 given

um, yes, hello christ. go back to hell where you belong and take your ridiculous lizard mascot with you.

no longer on the road, but actually in hillsboro, there doesn’t seem to be much godliness. punks playing basketball and p.f. chang’s, but no god. NO GOD.

god was in vernonia today though. or at least somebody graced me with the opportunity to curry a horse. yellow curry.

playing in the old logging mill in vernonia is just as much fun as i remember it being. my grandfather’s house is nothing like what i remember though, seeing as how someone cut down the trees on the whole hill. NO GOD.