Breast implants come in silicone (though I think they're moving away from those now), and saline solutions, and I'm sure other substances. But those all weigh the girl down, and I'm sure it won't look right when they're kickin' 50 or 60. So hey, what about making them with helium in them? This should fulfill the normal purposes that breast implants are done for, and at the same time lighten the load and make them seem more perky! And heck, why not have helium bra inserts as well? I'm a genius, I tell you.
Relationships fulfill two whole people together; they shouldn't fill gaps to make each person whole. That is, if you are in a relationship because he/she fills a gap in you, then you by yourself have a hole that you need to have figured out before you can truely be fulfilled by the relationship with the other person.
People often forget that a failed relationship doesn't reflect failure of the people in it. Sometimes things just don't work out, through no fault of either person, or through the fault of both people due to timing, lifestyles, backgrounds, etc. And yet, when a relationship falls, it seems natural to question oneself's worth and whether we had tried hard enough. It's a step towards maturity to realize that things happen, and if you've already tried "hard enough", then that break-up was a decision to let it go. But it doesn't mean you're a terrible person (unless you did terrible things).
Being healthy is not just a commitment to working out, nor to a diet; it's a commitment to a certain lifestyle and mindset. The more I read about the latest nutritional findings or the latest dietary supplements, the more it's clear that EVERYTHING good for you is important and vital to your bodily functions. Each article by itself touts a certain mineral / vitamin / chemical / compound / substance as being important, and how the current American diet -- Americans generally eat sh!t for food because of "how busy they are" -- falls drastically short of those RDI's. When you take a big step back and look at all the findings together, you realize that there are really just a few main things they tell you.
Eat right: nice, balanced meals.
Drink lots: water, water, water.
Exercise: often, but vary it.
Sleep: enough each night.
Sure, some of us have crazy-high metabolic rates that make us all jealous, but most of us need to keep things in check. And for some reason, people just don't seem to get that idea right. Instead, they're looking for the fabled holy grail of a "diet pill" or the ultimate ephedra-free, side-effect-free weight management program that will boost them into looking great without doing the time! What's up with that?
Many of my friends on IM have names or nicknames that start with 's'. Hmm. I just noticed that. In fact, there is a heavy concentration of names and handles that begin with letters in the second half of the alphabet. A, B, E, H, and L in particular are rather empty.
I forgot to mention that my K2's (inline skates) broke on Saturday. The left one. At the ratchet buckle. One side just snapped off, and I doubt that Krazy Glue will bring her back to life. The blades still have some good life in them, and I'm not looking forward to spending another $200 on a new pair. Yes, I am quite sad about this.
I was gonna write about bathroom stalls, but this guy Sonofapreacherman pretty much said what I wanted to say. I was cracking up laughing at his entry here, and I don't even know the guy!
Girls/guys will come and go, but good friends are for life. I never want to be one of those couples who disappear from their friends, one of those guys who ditches his boys (and female friends) for a chick and drops off the face of the earth. I lost a relationship because of that, but I had to stick to my guns. My best friends are really for life. Fierce loyalty.
What does it mean to be considered "like family"? It is usually considered an honour to be welcomed into a new family. But does it also manifest itself in assumptions (as in the "boyfriend/girlfriend" idea) that you are implicitly available to them for things they need? Or that they trust you with more responsibilities upon which their lives rely, with more favours they know you can pull through for them? After all, being a family member means you need to pull your own weight to help the family; it's the "good of the group" over yourself, and you should be expected to contribute your fair share. As exhibited by many adolescents, families can become somewhat of a "burden" when one loses the sight of why they're in that family.
What does being in a new family mean to you? I have gathered a new "family" since moving down here; I gladly help them whenever I can, and we support each other in workouts/talks and spend time together doing various things. I would say they're "like family" to me, and I look forward to being to adopt more.
(This is an unorganized thought, jot down quickly to preserve the train.)
Some people say things in such absolutes, as if all topics could be easily defined and understood, as if every issue could be solved with a simple and specific answer.
As most of us have observed, not everything is black and white: there are millions of shades of grey. And once we realize that, we see how the varying shades can open a number of nuances into the originally-thought-simple topic. What can really get our minds going is when, after that, we begin to learn that there are colours in addition to those greys! And colours are where we'll start to fluorish. A person knowing only black and white (which aren't considered colours, by the way) can only function well in a black-and-white world. In a world filled with greyscales, one might consider that person as lacking skills needed to deal with grey areas.
Someone with a different colour tint on a subject simply sees it differently. There's no problem with that: it doesn't mean they are "screwed up" so much as possessing different viewpoints. And once we appreciate those differences fully, we can see them as opportunities instead of threats. These are chances to learn about other colours and see what makes them so brilliant, so vivid, experience the contrasts and harmonies they make with other colours! Then we can enjoy and celebrate these deviations, instead of scoffing or just dismissing them without true consideration.
Colours allow expression and variants. Variety is the spice of life! If you don't want them around, you're living in the wrong place. (Try the next planet over.)
It's a good thing feeling like I have the best and most I've ever had. It's nice to view today as the best time in my life; I believe it to be a healthy attitude. It's the kind of positive outlook on life that I should continue to strive for. And yet, the irony is, the harder I try to hang on to this life, the more I threaten to suffocate it. It needs to be cradled like a delicate bird, without allowing myself to be complacent.
To the person / people living in the lovely white house off Paul Avenue exit from the 101-S: I apologize for having peed in the vicinity of your residence while no one was looking. It was an emergency and we still had a long drive ahead of us. I appreciate your understanding and consideration, thank you.
I just want to say that I could have blogged from inside the nightclub, but I didn't. I exercised the utmost restraint and stayed away from the Internet terminals. But the first thing I thought of was that I could blog to everyone from there. Which, of course, I didn't. Instead, I'm blogging from the comfort of my own home, drunk. :-) Gotta love Thursdays!
I was welcomed at my vehicle this morning with a neon green sticker plastered to the window. Not again. I removed it (without difficulty and residue this time) and proceeded into the leasing office. A pointed (though polite) discussion ensued, and I requested the contact information for the recipient of my formal complaint.
The parking situation at Central Park has become increasingly frustrating; I do not enjoy having to look for parking after a long day of work and working out, when I am mentally and physically exhausted. For a three-bedroom apartment, a single assigned parking spot is simply not enough, let alone having it some minutes' walk away.
Promises have come and deadlines have gone, without such fruits of supposed labour and planning. We are approaching the second half of the year, a full quarter behind when results were supposed to be apparent. Instead, a new plan involves contact to all residents in July and further "evaluation" in August. Hello, it's a business. Run it like one! Is there no one accountable to making sure things are taken care of in a timely manner?
And don't even get me started on the resurfacing of the spa (hot tub).
So ... does anyone have a template / formula for a nice complaint letter??
I have brain-freeze from drinking my protein shake too fast! Ow.
In other news, I was spotted by an enemy spy as I was negotiating closer ties with one other member state. Other member states of the consortium had the same deep-rooted fear I had: that the enemy mastermind might also be on-site and that an impromptu confrontation could break out. Not wanting to alarm the consortium as a whole, I periodically sent surveillance gazes across the territory to survey the current situation. At the end of the day, no confrontation nor attack took place; another peaceful day thwarting the threat of war.
Think of an organ the size of a chili pepper; for some, it might be the size of a jalapeno at the time. Now imagine the surgical and auxiliary medical needs to remove it when it causes you pain. It's really a minor process and doesn't take that much.
So why is my medical bill $14,522 USD then?? The operation itself was only $4,061 of that; anesthesia so I wouldn't scream during it racked at $1568; lying in the recovery room for 90 minutes came to $701. All of a sudden, hotel rooms seem really cheap. I sure appreciate medical insurance now.
Cool. Just updated the feedback template for BlogExtra, to mimic this template a little closer. Damn, I'm becoming a geek! But I still can't figure out why the feedback font isn't the same as my blog font. Ugh. Help?
I have just set a new fitness goal. By my birthday 2003, I would like to see my
- body weight between 160lb and 165lb
- bench press at 225lb (for full reps with negatives)
- left shoulder recovered and even with the right
- abs in a six-pack (or close)
- love handles reduced or eliminated (since all my fat collects there)
- appendix scar all but fully healed
- resting heart rate at 60bpm or lower
This really just means a lot of work or a much more efficient workout regimen. Some recently readings have given me a few ideas that I plan to incorporate in the next month. Let's see how that turns out.
Her intoxicating aroma wafts through my office, across my desk, floats over my dancing fingers, making its way up towards me, gently beckoning to be brought closer to my lips. She's teasing me, this one, quietly sitting there across my desk; she is motionless and yet full of untapped potential movement. After what feels like an eternity, I succumb. My right hand reaches for her and my thumb and fingers subtly caress her back before pulling her in close and pressing my lips against her. I am treated to the sweetest taste of the morning, and a warmth washes over me. As we part, I cannot help but let a comforting sound escape me. "Ahhh ..."
There's nothing like a glorious cup of decaffeinated French Vanilla in the morning to make the time go by more quickly. There's a cappucino machine at work now! (But you can decide what I'm writing about. Whatever makes you happy.)
Ballet Prostitutes
Ballet dancers probably have less than ten years at their peak performance, because of the intense muscle demands of their profession. Professional athletes can extend this to a number of decades. An engineer can typically continue working and improving herself/himself until retirement ages. Actors' spans vary greatly depending on the paths they take, as do other entertainers.
But how many good years are there in the career of a prostitute? That is, how much time do they have before their looks and body (which are the sole "talents" involved) deteriorate to a point of non-income generating?
* I should note that I am neither condoning the professions labeled here, nor poking fun. Simply a question of wonderment.
June 22 is generally accepted as the longest day of the year (in the northern hemisphere), the summer solstice. And yet, in most of our experiences, the hottest days of the year tend to fall around the July-August timeframe. Why is that, if the day with the most sun exposure is way back in June, and the sun is steadily becoming more scarce by July-August?
I figure it's all about heat retention and dissipation. At some day in the year (before summer solstice), the sun during the day heats up (that side of) the Earth exactly as much as (that side of) the Earth loses at night.* This will happen twice a year -- once as days are getting longer, once as they shorten. For argument's sake, let's say those dates are May 22 and July 22.
So for all the days between May 22 and July 22, the Earth absorbs more heat than it gives off. Then, even though June 22 is the longest day, heat on the Earth is still building up to a peak around July 22 (as the hottest day). And then after that time, the sun won't be providing as much heat as the Earth loses, and temperatures will tend to cool down.** (Think integrals/derivatives, for you mathematicians and engineers.)
Does that make sense? Any holes that I haven't considered?
--
* I'm assuming that the Earth's crust and second layer are generally heat insulators, so that one part of the Earth heating up doesn't affect other parts of the crust too much. For instance, San Diego's hot summer days don't melt off the ice caps. Fair assumption, I figure.
** The reverse will probably hold true, so that in our example, January 22 would be the theoretical coldest day of the year.
A cherished daily occurrence has suddenly been absent recently. I miss it dearly, and fleeting contact is nowhere near the same. From this, however, new stories will arise, more conversations, and more appreciation for one's freedom and shared time.
Where would I be without Jack-in-the-Box? I took him off my Friendster list of friends, and I immediately lost 11,076 friends from my Personal Network.
It is very easy to run up a large bill when shopping at Mexx Outlet, and shopping buddies do nothing to curb the urge. Today was a very "successful" day, if you can call it that, even if my wallet is some $400+ CAD thinner. Zara isn't helping much either.
Flight was late on account of the weather, but random mine still picked me up and we hit Crush Lounge for MnM(7). Nice place, sofas and 70's style soft lighting, very retro style and use of colour. Used to be a swing dance hall, but I guess that's long gone now -- they've advanced by two or three decades!
Was able to talk with some people I haven't seen for a while and met some new people, expand the Vancouver circle a little bit. Even so, a few of the people were interesting enough to chat with. No flirting or anything, nothing I should hang my head in guilt for; just talking. I'm done looking.
Yet, to be honest, I hadn't seen my (existing) friends for a long time and really just wanted to catch up with them. So much I want to tell them (even though they probably already know from my blogs and IMs) and share with them! Luckily, late night pho allowed a few of us to catch up a bit and be more candid.
I have the best friends: I'm always at ease with them around. And tomorrow brings another chance to hang out more with them!
Girls are always talking about some newborn baby smell. What is that smell, anyway? What kind of smell is it that a newborn baby has (even after being cleaned, bathed, and dried)? And why??
One person described it to me as something like hot buns (no pun intended) fresh out of an oven. Fantastic, I mean, who doesn't like the smell of fresh baked bread, right? And then you start to think about what might cause that smell ... and you realize ... yeast. Yuck. Nasty.
So what is that smell again? And why do girls seem to enjoy it so much? And is there some commercial opportunity here, or can I just bottle it myself to attract girls?
Wow, the latest ultra-cool spy toy to be announced: Sony's Qualia 016. Hey, you gadget geeks, this is the ultimate! I think it even becomes a machine gun if you add enough accessories to it!
(Qualia is Sony's new line of high-end luxury type multimedia products, and most of it is really brainstorm, proof-of-concept stuff. If you want to follow the designers' brainwaves, read more about it at Dr. Ken Mogi's Qualia Initiative from Sony's Computer Science Lab.)
"You are connected to 78695 people in your Personal Network, through 51 friends."
Well, I was bored and found my link to whom I believe to be the Original Friendster, the one who started it all, user id 101: Jonathan. And I'm only 3 degrees from him (soon to be 2)! Friendster probably did not anticipate the bandwidth demands on their website, which is why it's so damned slow.
Plus, the sudden introduction of spoof Friendsters like Sex, Kristen Kreuk, Sarah Michelle Gellar. Hell, even Jet Li and Jack are on Friendster?? This is just out of control!
A Better Tomorrow
A friend posted a very simple question at the end of his blog: what will tomorrow bring? Got me to wondering what each day brings for me, exactly. And I've compiled a quick (uncomprehensive, inexhaustive) list for myself.
Each day brings another ...
... three opportunities to enjoy meals (even fast food).
... 50+ emails at work, waiting patiently.
... 88g of instantized whey protein.
... morning to watch cartoons.
... day of sun and warmth from above.
... afternoon for tea / bubbletea / rootbeer floats.
... evening for a good weight workout.
... night to go partying / drinking / hanging with friends.
... fantastic chance to see her again!
So, what does tomorrow bring for you?
Not just passion, but intensity. Work hard, play hard. Time efficiency. No-nonsense. Some of my friends are extremely proficient at this. They pack so much into their lives, always running on high gear, and they seem to be in great physical (and mental) health. Would I enjoy life more (by having more to enjoy in life) if I squeeze more in? Or will I just see that running a gear lower lets me enjoy the ride more?
More importantly, do I even have a choice? How do I jump-start my life into that gear? Or am I genetically stuck with a 5-gear transmission in a Formula 1 world?
The movie season is in full swing! Gawd, there's a lot coming down the pipe. Here's a list I've come up with, that I'd like to see. (Damn, that's a lot of money for tickets this summer!)
05/02 - X-Men 2 *
05/09 - Daddy Day Care *
05/15 - Matrix Reloaded ***
05/16 - Down With Love *
05/23 - Bruce Almighty ***
05/30 - The Italian Job ***
05/30 - Finding Nemo ***
06/06 - 2 Fast 2 Furious *
06/13 - Dumb and Dumberer: When Harry Met Lloyd *
06/20 - The Hulk **
06/27 - Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle ***
07/02 - Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines ***
07/02 - Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde **
07/02 - Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas *
07/09 - Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl *
07/11 - The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen **
07/18 - Bad Boys II **
07/25 - Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life *
07/25 - Scorched *
08/01 - American Wedding **
*** Would like to see this in a theatre.
** Might see this in a theatre.
* Will probably rent / download.
italics I've already seen.
Oh, if you're in the USA, sign up for the AMC MovieWatcher card. You may as well.
Continuing the previous topic (learning), the other option for me is that it should be "real". Keep it real. To have a direct impact (or foreseeable application) to some scenario in real life. Like programming a simulated manufacturing assembly line for optimized performance. Or creating a system that controls a train on a variety of tracks and off-ramps and loops. Or designing a pattern to be shaved out of hard plastic molding. That stuff makes sense, and I can see a reason we should learn it.
But when numbers go imaginary, they lose me. My imagination is reserved for fun things, not math.
And yet, the biggest lessons I learned were those dealing with life: relationships, people, me. It's ironic that in an environment that boasts superior courses and curriculums, these were things that were not taught in class. And things I continue to learn long after classrooms are of the past. Some lessons harder than others, some more engulfing than others, some longer to understand than others.
And thus, I continue, forging new neural connections, hoping my brain won't sit idly by while life withers it away.
"[this proof/investigation/question] ... is left as an exercise for the reader." Was it just us engineers and mathematicians and statisticians who had to endure this textbook taunt?
How many of us readers actually did the exercise, and worked out the issue? How many of us chose to be mental couch potatoes instead, sitting in front of the Idiot Book and accepting whatever it had to spew at us? I have no problems admitting I am a member of the latter, with my butt print firmly imprinted in the comfy chair that was apathy: apathetic of the course, its foundations, its implications. Academia had so far-removed the topic from my reality and from my realm of concern that it didn't really matter to me how many poles were in the right-hand plane, or when to apply Euler's formula. I just didn't (and still don't) care.
And while I will simply accept that certain formulae work and hold true, those are not the topics that I will remember far into a useful future. Instead, I need a strong tie to reality and to real-world applications, before I will accept a new concept. Concepts: broad understandings of certain phenomena, generalizations that explain many cases at once, but allow the individual to judge for themselves when anomalies and exceptions should apply. Consider it a blanket statement (know it's got its holes) packed into a tiny nugget of information. Maybe the ultimate in efficient learning, and the least strain on the brain.
That's just how I prefer to learn.
It's the age-old question -- who am I? -- posed by a fellow blogger that reminded me of my younger ponderous days. Who am I, my younger self wondered. Am I solely my physical being? Or solely my mental being? Or even my spiritual being, or the energy that embodies it? If I were any of these by themselves, would I be able to remove the other parts and still be convinced that I am me? If I were defined completely by my mental existence, would I still exist the same if my arms and legs were removed, if my brain were extracted and kept alive by artificial support means, while my body lay decaying 10 meters away? "I think, therefore I exist." That would still hold true. So, then ... who am I?
Do birds ever chirp for nothing? They chirp to mate, or chirp to warn, or chirp to whimper in pain ... but those all have function. Do they ever chirp just because? Just for no reason at all, chirp chirp chirp? If they do, then that's what these birds outside my office window are doing. More than likely, they are just laughing at me for being inside on a lovely Friday evening. [sigh]
I hate being misunderstood. I live most of my life with the best of intentions, with openness in helping myself and those I care about, with kindness and consideration. And I certainly do all of this with a healthy helping of naivity and innocence, sometimes believing that others will see what's true to my personality and understand where I am coming from. I have few long-lived ill wills against others. And in that way, I have been misunderstood; that saddens me, because it feels like I've failed in being true to myself and others. Or have I?
Knowledge is power. Selective knowledge leads to an imbalanced power (not imbalance OF power), and leads to abuse of strength (or abuse of other things in trying to find strength). I cannot control how others handle theirs; I only maintain that mine is protected as needed.
Sh!t has hit the fan. A lot of sh!t -- the ultimate (mother) load, one might say. And it's an industrial fan, too. The kind that oscillates to circulate air (and sh!t) around the room. At first glance, it seems as if, once flung, all the dung will quickly splatter across the white carpet -- which, by my luck, has just been steam vacuumed. And yet, as the droplets settle and soak in, I have but a suspicion that not all as been blown my way yet; more piles lurk in the shadows awaiting another trigger, another fan, or just a gust of wind. (There's nothing like the threat of having sh!t all over your face to make you peer over your shoulder in paranoia.)
Rum raisin ice cream (or gelato) is nowhere to be found. One gelato shop even told me it was a seasonal thing. What part of rum raisin ice cream would be seasonal? The rum? Unlikely. The raisin? They're dried (preserved) fruit, and they keep. The ice cream? Come on. So what exactly do I have to do to get some run raisin around here??
It's good to be out of the house, but it's bad to be in the office. I'm not really sure which of these two evils is the lesser.
I feel almost naked when wearing boxers at work. (Haha, the same kind of thrill as using the hospital urinal.)
I'm already not following doctor's orders, by accelerating some of his out-of-commission recommendations.
Thanks for the well wishes from all of you; it's lifted my spirits during this time and had a positive impact on my recovery. Apparently, of the three people who had appendectomies from that doctor that day, I'm the only one already back to work; in fact, I'm the only one out of the hospital already.
You can call me ScarBelly. I thought medical science had advanced, because the nurse told me they only had to make small incisions now. And yet, here I am, staring at a three-inch scar that they left while doodling around with my innards! And my belly is all swollen because of it. So much for all that working out, ugh.
Now I remember why I don't like wearing boxers: I don't like hanging loose like that. (Thought I'd share.)
Second thought of the day: Vicodin rocks, even the generic version.
Look what I noticed! See the BlogSpot banner ads above? They are context-based. For instance, with my last post, the ads above were consistently about medical supplies and male and female urinals and other hospital needs. So ... let's try a few buzz words here. sex toys sex girls men adult magazines videos xxx toys smut women naked pornography lingerie sexy ... did that work?
The Hospital, not the Truck
El Camino Hospital staff was really nice (except one late-shift b!tch), very informative, and made me feel at ease. I'm sure that I helped them, since I was appreciative of everything they did for me, but the courtesy was reciprocated. A few things I learned at the hospital:
1. Peeing into the little urinal jug is strangely amusing. You can be standing in the middle of your room, and let loose on your bladder without worrying about getting in trouble for it! The same kind of sick thrill one might derive from sneaking a camera into a stripclub and taking "strictly forbidden" pictures. (Not that I have, but I suspect it would be the same kind of thrill.)
2. The "nurse call" button is a pretty fun power trip. Having a suite of buttons that beckons people is kind of nice. There's one for the nurse (general), and they're paid to answer to you! Then there's a green button with a frowny face, which is for "pain management" -- it basically means, "Dammit, it hurts, it hurts, please somebody bring me another 2mg dose of morphine!" And finally, there's a yellow one with what looks like a burnt out lightbulb. Be careful with this one -- it's not a lightbulb that means "reading light", but rather it's a toilet which means I can't do my daily chores by myself and need someone to come help me with it. (I learned that one the hard way, while looking up at the lightbulb wondering why it wasn't coming on.)
3. If you're nice to the staff, they give you more drugs. And they give you seconds and thirds of jello and chicken soup and cranberry juice. Jello, though sickly sweet, still tastes pretty damned good -- could use a few shots of alcohol to liven it up, though.
4. After an appendectomy, they want to know how much you pass through your system. Use the urinal jug and buzz them each time so they can come examine your pee for colour, viscosity, and volume.
5. That urinal examination job must suck. I could never work in a hospital, but I'm glad some people do.
6. Even if you're only 28 and in decent health, you still feel like an old fogey shuffling down the hallway pushing your IV pole around in order to get doctor-recommended exercise. But the least you can do it double-check your gown to be sure you're not mooning all the people in your wake.
7. It's a real neat thing to use, that hanging chain handle over the bed. Great for hoisting and repositioning yourself when you have no abs functioning. And probably a decent back and bicep workout too (if they don't catch you doing it).
8. That table that is your food tray, your desk, your little mirror and drawer ensemble? I need to get one of those for home!
9. So you've been up and about the hospital floor, walking around fully capable of getting here and there. You're ready to check out and they will still insist on wheelchairing you out to your car. I don't get it.
10. And however pleasant this whole experience seems, I'm sure the medical bill will make up for it.
I figure I'll just keep adding as I remember more. :-) Back to lying on the bed, pretending I'm utterly useless again.
I had an interesting question posed to me about a week ago. How does WinMX handle downloading a file from multiple users/peers/locations? My first thought is that it divides up the file (to be downloaded) into x segments and starts each download stream from a new segment. But might WinMX file chop this in a different way? Because what if you decide to stop downloading an MP3 at 60%? Wouldn't you like to have the first 60% downloaded, instead of a 20% chunk in the front, middle, and end? I wonder if there's a happy medium in there somewhere.
Now that was an interesting weekend. Exciting, to say the least. Started off with a fantastic day -- weather was great -- in bed and a dip by the pool / hottub. Then while at the mall, I started having abdominal pains and got a little crabby (unsocial). I couldn't sleep more than 15 minutes at a time that night, the pain was so intense. Blame? Food poisoning from the Thai food and the burrito. (Wouldn't you blame them?)
By about 6am on the Sunday, it had gotten bad enough that my parents drove me to the hospital. 11am diagnosis (after a blood and urine sample) determined appendicitis. D'oh! Surgery was scheduled for 1pm that day, and I stayed there overnight. Just got back from the place, and I'll probably be stuck at home for a few days.
And that's not even the worst part. I'm not allowed to workout for 2 weeks. Dammit!
Ray, James, Maria, Cess, and Noah came to visit me yesterday ... mere hours after I called them! And these sweet, sweet friends brought with them gifts of magazines, DVDs, congee, and balloons. Though I feel bad that they all took some time out of a gorgeous weekend day to see me, it was really nice of them to see me (looking like sh!t and having not showered for a whole day).
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