So last night we were mapping out vacation itinerary for our Canada trip 8/14-8/20. Yep, a holiday for the WHOOOLE fam damily, that be a party of 9. It's damned ambitious and maybe a bit old school, but mi madre y mi padre won't be able to do it forever, so we should continue the tradition while we still can, y'know. But speaking of mi padre...HE was the one to throw a wrench in the works. We'd been talking about vacationing on that week forever and suddenly last night, when we're actually getting down to the bidness of hotel bookings, my Dad busts out with "I've got this colonoscopy on the 18th and I don't think it can be rescheduled." Well, I took it like a champ, but I'll confess to you now that I was a smidge vexed. Asking my boss to move my vacation time makes me look all disorganized & flighty. Now, if I was an organized and nonflighty person, it would be of no concern to me if I was coming off all featherbrained. I would have historical precedents that prove otherwise. However, I tend to be pretty flighty & disorganized...although in this instance, it was not I that forgot about my apointment with the bum doctor. So with my less-than-stellar track record, it's important that I not let any bogus strikes against me slide uncontested (did that come out making any sense? I feel like I made that point very unclearly). So I had to email my boss to move my time off from 8/14--8/18 to 8/21--8/25. But as I was preparing to compose this email, I was tempted to tell Maggie (the bosslady) very explicitly what necessitates this reschedule ... "I am very sorry to inconvenience you with this sudden change, but my dotty old Dad forgot he had an appointment with the heiny doctor." That mighta worked in my favor actually-- it would've cleared me of any flightiness charges, plus Maggie might've promptly greenlighted the switch just to shut me up...lest I go into any more detail. OR, I shoulda made it a point to throw the word "colonoscopy" in there somewheres, as Maggie had just that procedure done last month, she mighta felt particularly sympathic toward me Pa....and thereby more inclined to accomodate. I ended up compromising-- blaming my father, but tactfully so ("a forgotten doctor's appointment"). But the change ended up being no problem whatsoever and bosslady okayed it, so all's well that ends well and I probably shouldn't have wasted so many characters, so much time type/griping about it.
Now I've been tossing around inscrutable medical jargon like "bum doctor" and "heiny doctor" when, of course, I mean PROCTOLOGIST. Now I'm not 100 % certain-- it is the proctologist that performs a colonoscopy, correct?? I had presumed so, because he is sort of the port authority for that end o' thangs (I say "he" like there's just one dude that does it, y'know, your friendly local proctologist. "Ooooh aaaa PROCTOLOGIST is a person in your neighborhood, in your neighborhood, in your neigh-bor-hood...") But maybe the proct. (I tire of typing out the whole damn word) just does low level ass maintenance like hemorrhoidectomies and the plucking of ingrown butt hairs... I 'spose I could do a little net research, read up on colonoscopies, but I dunno what sort of photos might besiege me if I do that. Methinks I won't risk it...
VT needs more bike paths. I say that, not because I'd use them, but because I'd like to be able to take a zippy drive down a country road, crest a hill, and not encounter some SPANDEXED ASS in the middle of my lane. And then once they've zigzagged VT with new bike paths they should promote usage of said paths by making it illegal for cyclists to do their thing on my roads. And I promise not to drive my car on their scenic bike paths! Sounds fair, right? Can you tell that these cyclists vex me? They are such a nuisance...I'm really surprised that more of 'em don't get mowed down.
I am convinced there is no finer smelling shampoo than original VO5. (And you thought all I did was watch TV. I also plan vacations, take country drives and, on occasion, shower) It's not all botanically pretentious or trying to assimulate the olfactory experience of your favorite dessert. It just smells like clean hair. And --oh, happy coincidence-- it also happens to be readily available at Family Dollar for 99cents a bottle. I should buy it all the time, but I don't. I'm thinking that if you use the same shampoo over and over your hair builds up an immunity to it and so that's why it's important to alternate or vary your shampoos (& conditioners). Y'know that just got told to me once upon a time, and though it's got no scientific basis that I know of, and I've no historical evidence to support the theory, it is so deeply etched into my noggin, that I am a staunch shampoo variator and I will be until somebody proves to me that I'm wrong.
Due to the latest go round of "I Love the 70s" and "Remedial Pop Culture for Brain Damaged Chimps Hour" (or, as VH1 insists on calling it, "The World Series of Pop Culture") I've been watching an inordinate amount of VH1 these days. That channel is very busy promoting their new crop of asinine reality shows. I am particularly (and inexplicably) fond of the promo touting Season 2 of "Flavor of Love" with these two hillbilly dudes in the woods with a cooler (not sure what they're up to in the woods w/ a cooler, looks as if they could be duck hunting, but I don't really know, somehow I ALWAYS miss the beginning of this thing) anyways, the portlier, seated hillbilly has an apparent Flava Flav fixation, he's donning the Viking helmet and clock about the neck and he ends the commercial by saying "I know what time it is...FLAYYYYVERRR FLAAAAYYYYV" And obviously, it's the delivery that so hy-friggen-sterical (as there's nothing exceptionally witty in that bit o' dialogue) It just cracks my
&*%#@ up, I dunno what it is. If I had my 'puter mojo working right now,I might figure out how to put an audio file on my blog, but I'm getting damned sleepy at present and plus I mastered how to set up my links sidebar the other day, so I probably used up my week's technowizardry quota with that endeavor.
Now, my enjoyment of that promo, IN NO WAY means that I endorse a Season 2 of "Flavor of Love". I was unpleasantly astounded that there was a Season 1 of "Flavor of Love". I just couldn't believe that there were 20+ women vying to be Flav's special ladyfriend...it made me feel ashamed for all womankind. Now there's another 20 or so eager to join the Flav-harem...it's gotta be a sign of the apocalypse or something.
Apparently the has-beens that get recruited for the Surreal Life get so hooked on that nearly forgotten nectar of public exposure that after their sentence in the SL house is up, they loiter around the VH1 HQ until some merciful exec throws 'em another bone. Flav had a show with Amazon mama Brigitte Nielsen--after their Surreal Life stint and before that "Flavor of Love" abomination hit the airwaves. Vince Neil had a show where, well I only saw one episode, but I believe the premise was you watched him get lipo and you watched his cute wife prattle on about how stoked she was for him to get lipo. And y'know, I actually got a smidge twitterpated when Adrian Curry & Chris Knight hooked up on the Surreal Life. But they couldn't just sweetly "ride off into the sunset" they had to hit us with My Fair Brady (working title: "No Kidding! We Hooked up & Now We Shackin' Up"). And now "My Fair Brady: We're Taking this Farce all the Way to the Altar!!" I'm fully expecting a Season 3 "My Fair Brady: Did you Think She was Pretend Banging Him? Well She Really Was and Now She Gots a Bun in the Oven!!" I'm afraid I don't have the knack for show titling...'spose I'm too verbose.
I'm just thankful (really really thankful) that Vern Troyer never got his own Surreal Life spin off. That SL season gave me such an INTENSE aversion to that grody Oompa Loompa. I mean, not that I was any kind of fan beforehand. They kind of overdid the mini me gag in Austin Powers Deux, but all the same, I was largely indifferent to the guy. But after being affronted by nightmarish scenes of him buzzing about all nakey on his Rascal scooter to find a nice spot in the corner of the work out room to piss in--well that kind of broke down my indifference. But even worse was after his misplaced piddling, they put the li'l troll to bed and he was making these UNGODLY moaning noises. Ewww, barf, it was horrid. The guy makes my skin even crawlier than Basedow does. Seems like they'd would jump at the chance to give a train wreck like that their own reality show . C'mon...he's sort of a pint size hairless Bonaduce... I'm pretty sure that someone o'er there in VH1land has at least pitched the idea...
No comments:
Post a Comment