Monday, October 17, 2011

Festivities and Colonoscopies

Festivities and Colonoscopies

Things I love about fall:

  • Hoody Wearing Weather
  • Neutral and Earth Tone Fashion
  • Halloween
  • All Accompanying Fests
  • Food
  • Planning Brian’s Birthday

I’ve been busy lately—working, trying to get to the gym at least 3 days a week, and planning. It’s so dorky, but I really love planning.

Things I’m currently planning:

  • Brian’s Birthday Outing
  • Our next Girl’s Night (which will be Girl’s Night In this time)
  • Halloween Party and Corresponding Costume (which is not going so well—the costume part, anyway.)

This past weekend was fun and relaxing. I spent Friday night in the Tropicana celebrating my friend Brandon’s birthday. I was the DD, which was fine, because alcohol is off my list until Halloween weekend anyway. We had dinner at Hooter’s which was classy, and we had the cutest little Spanish waitress I have ever seen—accent and everything. I wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home—she really was that cute.

Saturday I went to Cranberry Fest in Chatsworth with the two best men in my life—Brian and Duane.

It was really nice; the weather was perfect, the whole place smelled like kettle corn, and there were blocks and blocks of vendors with crafts, food, and great chintzy stuff. As usual, I didn’t buy anything besides a food—a slammin’ gyro and a bag of the most delicious kettle corn I’ve ever had. I also bought some jelly—thing I would only buy when intoxicated with smells and scenery of a fest. I’m a huge fan of fests. On our way home from the fest we stopped at a few party and dollar stores looking for Halloween party ideas and decorations, and then I introduced Duane to Costco.

I kid you not when I say we spend over an hour in Costco deciding whether or not to get a chicken pot pie for dinner….we decided against it considering it was big enough to feed a stoner Brady Bunch. We bought rotisserie chicken and pumpkin bisque instead; then Duane and I baked an apple crumb while Brian played his new Godfather video game upstairs.

10: the number of times Brian said that Duane and I should get married on Saturday. It could be the fact that we finish each other’s sentences, or that we’re both foodies, but I know that we should at least live in a duplex together at some point.

Countless: the number of times in the past week that Brian has told me he is seriously considering a life of organized crime.

Duane and I are both planning this Halloween party, since we’re renting a house in Ocean City from one of our best cleaning clients in the summer. She gave us a really good deal on the house for the weekend—she made me an offer, I couldn’t refuse. As super excited as I am about this party, I’m nervous because A.) She’s our best client, so I don’t want anything broken and I don’t want to piss off the guy that lives in the apartment under the house (who I only just realized existed.) B.) I’m hosting this party, and I still don’t have a costume! When I invited people to the party, I emphasized the importance of having a black light friendly costume, and so far my only idea has been a black swan costume—which will make me invisibly in the black lights. Other options I’m considering: Sushi, a Mermaid, and actual invisibility. HELP!

You’ve probably noticed the second part of my title: colonoscopies.

Lately my mother has been looking into (and requesting I join her in Googling) good places to get enemas. What the hell do I know about them?! I thought it was gross and mildly amusing, until last week.

Without going into detail, I have been procrastinating going to the doctor for some annoying issues. I finally went last week and these issues became even more annoying when Dr. Dude told me that not only would I need to get blood work done, but I would also need to do a… wait for it…. Take home POOP test. Kill me now. As if that wasn’t the worst thing you’ve ever heard, please consider that I had to do one of those poop kits three months ago for some stupid other thing that ended up being a whopping nothing at all.

It gets worse. Twenty-two year old me needs a colonoscopy. My world is almost over at this point until the doctor tells me he is at least recommending me to a lady gastrologist. He actually told me to “put my big girl panties on,” which was weird. After throwing out some names of alarming condition my issues could be, and seriously worrying me for 24 hours, I called the gastrologist office to make an appointment. The earliest CONSULTATION is November 2nd, which means colon-time will be schedule a few weeks after that—this gives me plenty of time to dread this. It’s also obnoxious because I’ll probably have to take a whole day off for the procedure, as well as half a day the day before because you have to “cleanse.” The nurse told me this “cleansing process” could take all day, which means I’m going to move my TV into the bathroom.

I didn’t tell my mom about that appointment, or the fact that I’m making an appointment for a colonoscopy, because she’ll either worry unnecessarily, or tell me I’m worrying unnecessarily—both of which are annoying.

When I got home from the doctor that day, I found an “Enema in a Box” on my bathroom counter—my mom has been searching for one of those for a couple of weeks—she finally found one at some rinky-dink pharmacy, because real pharmacies must agree that enemas are no longer in style. Last Friday, she asked me if I would take her to her colonoscopy appointment on Halloween. Go figure. I’m wondering if I can actually get this all done and over with without telling her.

This weekend I went to LabCorp (before Cranberry Fest) and got my blood work done. The women there were all incredibly rude, but the blood taker did a good job, and I did not pass out. They sent me home with my own personal poop kit, that I must… complete… and return. It has about 8 million vials, and a thick instruction book that I haven’t had the nerve to look at yet. Let’s see how long I can put that off.

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