This is what I look like as I'm writing this. Very tired.

Yep.  I’m sitting right now getting my plasma.  When I first did this I expected red vampire blood but I ended up with clear plasma so now I’m a vegan vamp, totally not as cool but whatever – I’ll take what I can get.

I’m sitting here in my recliner with my IV in getting my plasma infused into my body.  Last time I got a bit of an ass kicking for about two days but hopefully this time it’ll be better because I have a full night ahead of me plus I’m flying back to Syracuse tomorrow then leaving Saturday with my kids back home to Charlotte with my boys.  I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that twelve hours straight again, especially after an infusion so I’m going to split it up into two six hour drives and spend a night in Winchester which rocks because it reminds me of the show Supernatural and I totally want to get it on with Jensen Ackles.

My friend Tim and I have decided that we are going to perpetually torture our best friend Courtney.  I have a group of friends I can’t live without right now – Sarah, Tim and Court.  Unfortunately for Court, she revealed her fear of Elton John.  I suggested singing ‘Tiny Dancer’ last night and she gave me this look of amusement and terror.  Knowing something was off I forced her to revel her deepest darkest secret – for years now she has been plagued with random nightmares of Elton John chasing her naked through the streets and even in the woodland forests calling out her name.  That’s led to Tim and I torturing her on Facebook and Twitter – you can find us @momspective, @try2112 and @Court72 and I’m sure @Bassackwardsmom (Sarah) will join in.  Feel free to follow us.  We banter well.

My grandfather just turned 95 years old.  We have a tradition of singing a Polish birthday song that basically translates into “May you live 100 years” and he refused to have it sung to him this birthday because he thinks the world would be doing everyone a service if we all died around 75.  He thinks from there it’s all downhill.  Memory, vision and hearing loss.  Getting your drivers license taken away so he has to rely on others and eventually needing as assisted care facility.  I know it’s not like that for all elderly people but with him being five years shy of that 100 mark he’s REALLY hoping he doesn’t need to wait that long to cross the finish line.  I both admire and feel sorry for him.  He’s such a wonderful man.

Before I wrap this up because of my complete and total lack of creative genius, I feel we need to talk about bathroom etiquette.  I am a massive germaphobe because of the fact that you sneezing might land me in the hospital with pneumonia but when you go on into the loo to drop yourself a solid and you see a magazine there part of you wants to read that puppy but if you think about it, someone else brought that in there.  They’ve pooped and read that lord knows how many times and what if they’re not hand washers?  What about the bathroom book readers who insist the novel read was so good you have to read it?  What about all of the books that we’ve borrowed from the library?  Just sayin’.  I have a tendency to just turn the pages with my feet and bend over as I blast ass to read what’s going on in the latest in entertainment news.

Speaking of bathroom etiquette, I ran into an awkward situation a few weeks ago.  My stomach was KILLING me.  I mean a cramping ass clenching run for your life I’m about to shit my pants killing me.  I got my shots (I’m rabid) and haul ass (pun intended) to the nearest bathroom only to have someone in the stall next to me.  Well she flushed so I managed to let a tad go but then she stayed seated.  The feet shuffle.  I’m holding my breath lest one juicy nugget come flying out repulsing my neighbor but she’s not moving.  Now I have to think fast.  I know she’s got potty dibs.  She got there first and she clearly wasn’t done with her business.  She was simply firing off a warning signal to let me know she was involved in her own assplosion and I was not wanted.  I in turn has to run my own flush, get what I could out, wipe, wash and run.  I went out that door, down the flight of steps and into the bathroom the floor below to find it empty and then I let that puppy loose.  Damn, I wish I had my poo-pourri with me because once I wrapped that up, two people came in to hit the loo and all I could do was avoid eye contact, vigorously wash my hands and run before I heard them gag.

There’s no real moral to that story, I just wanted to over-share and this is a fairly random post but I’m getting my Tiger Blood and it makes me sleepy and I don’t have a full story in me.  I do have a few in mind lined up for next week though.  I’ll be touching on Facebook poking and telling you about this one time I had a car break down in the ghetto during the Rodney King trials.  I have to see if I’ve told that story on here before though.  I forget what I’ve told you.  I do believe I also need to get my sexy on because I’ve been told if I do I’ll get some free happy fun toys to play with.  That should make for some good reading.  Sorry dad.

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