This post is beyond-asking-for-an-extension-on-an-extension late, but I am very busy right now so froggy readers on your lily iPads, please stop flicking your tongues at me and jumpin’ around. Speaking of which, this epic’s gonna be all over the place. BECAUSE THAT’S HOW LIFE WORKS.
Item Uno: Hallowed Halls Make for Historical Heckles
Two weekends ago, Hampton and I did a show at an eating club at Princeton University.
The main point I wanted to share from this experience is that, in the middle of my set, I was heckled in the form of a Ronald Reagan chant that went on for about 20 seconds. Can check that off my list of Never Have I Ever, but seriously, the audience was very jovial, obviously smart, and fun. I swear I even saw Blair Waldorf in the crowd.
Also here were some photos I captured in the ornate mansion where we performed. One is of graceful alum Jimmy Stewart in theater garb and the other is an old class photo. We were performing somewhere that clearly had a past! I felt accomplished simply by association.
Nextly, I got a minor procedure on my eyelid at the hospital on Friday, which deserves another surgery saga recap, because I’ve set an arbitrary standard. Since JAWS was aptly named after a terrifying movie, I’ll call this one SAW.
Yes, I know what you’re judgmentally thinking. 2010 is the Year of the Scalpel! Or scal-pal rather, as it’s proven to be my friend. An even truer friend stabs you in the face.
This was in a different hospital than my other surgery and what a difference location, location, location can makka-makka-make. DJ Realtor in the house! Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee/max!
The place was so busy, my mother appropriately remarked that it looked like a train station. The waiting rooms were stacked and packed with wheelchairs, family members, and old people wearing groovy cataract sunglasses and being adorable. Plus we showed up late and it felt like when you roll into the airport pushing the clock and the security line is far, far too long and you’re sure you’ll miss your flight.
Luckily, there was order within the chaos, and eventually, I found myself sitting in what looked like an old-fashioned armchair in the corner of a busy pre-op eye surgery prep room with a blanket to insulate my boots and flannel shirt. I was told the surgeon would sally on through any moment now.
They said I could keep all my regular clothes on for eye surgery and the only gear I got was a cloud hat, which felt very surreal. I felt like I was in a dream where nothing is quite up to code on the reality meter. A nurse did start an IV for me, after which I was convinced I wouldn’t be sent home. Not with the well-attended party underway!
I was finally wheeled into the O.R. where I got some conscious sedation and local anesthesia so I conked out for a bit (when you’re still in your street clothes, it kinda feels like a crime), but then I woke up for some of the surgery and heard various instructions on how and where to pull my eye flap. It was like a personalized interactive radio show.
Back in the recovery room, the nurse was regaling my mom with some aftercare instructions, and then I said, “I feel dizzy” and then they both go “Oh, that’s normal” and then I passed out LIKE A REAL DRAMA QUEEN. And then I revived slightly to hear everyone running around saying my lips looked gray and I was suddenly sweaty despite the cold temperatures. That’s a cozy feeling.
All’s well that ends well. After a car ride home in which I almost yarfed all over everything, I arrived home sweet home where I could document my tears of blood in peace. You see, that’s where the real fun starts.
My eye was super uncomfy and stingy the rest of the day because there were some stitches on the inside of my eyelid. Plus my eye was bloodshot (probably had been drinking while I was under) and was belligerent at what I had put it through. Sleep it off, Grampa!
But the next morning, I woke up to a oozy, weepy, apocalyptic eye, which needs to be documented. Don’t look if you don’t like the wonders of medicine, or are easily disgusted with gratuitous cellphone pics. Look out, webcam hotties!
Anyway, don’t worry. I’ve been wearing an eye patch around lately, mostly to keep the antibiotic ointment in, but also to keep the villagers with the pitchforks out.
GLAMOR CRONE PICS
Item Tres: Car Shop Til’ Your Eye Drops
This afternoon, my Dad and I went car shopping. It was fun to gauge the reactions of car salespeople to my eyePad. I think some of them feared it was driving-related, and here I was, trying to pull another fast one by attempting to buy a vehicle from right under their noses. The optic nerve of it all!
This one salesman wouldn’t stop talking from the moment he met us to when we said goodbye. He was talking up this car a mile a minute (his selling floor nickname is Motormouth), and the best part was that if you listened closely to him, nothing he said was a complete thought. He would just start ideas and then segue into other ideas but never finish a sentence. But nonstop! He was a machine! Also one of his eyes had a glassier shine to it than the other one so I felt an irrational partnership with him.
Also we looked at a car that has a small lever on the inside of the trunk so that if someone throws you in the trunk, you can pop the latch and run to safety. My favorite was the little diagram that explained this USING NO WORDS.
In conclusion, this entry has brought to you by the concept of whimsy.