Bad things, man. Bad things.
Oct. 29th, 2004 10:06 amBack in September, I kicked a camp cot frame. I caught it just at the wrong angle, and it tore off half of my big toenail. This would have been bad enough, but now that the toenail is again approaching normal toenail size, it's growing in funny and painful. And *that* would be bad enough, but now the skin around the nail is infected, due to constant digs from the odd-shaped nail.
I think I'm going to have to go to the doctor. For my goddamned big toe. Ridiculous. And he'll give me antibiotics. And I'll take them, and forget that you can't do oral antibiotics with birth control, and end up spawning, and
kittenpants and
triadruid will kick me out of the house for breeding, and I'll move to a rathole in some other city, and be alone and bitter, and my kid will learn bitterness and hate, and will grow up to be a supervillain, who will destroy the universe. That would suck.
Or, I don't do anything about it, and the toe later has to be amputated, and I spend the rest of my life a toeless freak, continually lurching forward on my left foot and never being able to buy proper shoes again. Also untenable.
Stupid toe. *sigh*
Also, for your consideration, a dream:
I'm on vacation with
kittenpants and
triadruid in Orlando. For some reason,
chaosdruid and
niveus_tigris live there, and Mikey the Pirate is living in a town about two hours away by train. We have arrived in the evening, and are looking for something to eat, and then we are going to try to go to a theme park for a few hours. By the time we're done with dinner,
kittenpants has gotten ill. She tells
triadruid and I to go ahead and go, she'll just go over to
chaosdruid's house and sleep for a while.
So we go to some sort of park that you have to ride on a big flume ride in order to get into the park. We duck the guards at the gate, and get on the ride. We go through and get to the park, now soaking wet. Mikey is there, and he talks us into going back to his house, so after a little bit, we leave the park and get on a train.
We ride the train to Mikey's, and end up sleeping over. The next day, we get up and are ready to go back, but
triadruid refuses to go back. I tell him, "We have to go back, that's where
kittenpants is. We have to go get her." He refuses, visibly shaking. I ask him what's wrong. He tells me he doesn't like it there. I ask why. He says, "All those people dressed up, all those strange things. I want to look at them, but if I look, I'll stare."
I look at him oddly. "But," I say, "If they're dressed up, they want to be looked at. I think that's okay." He blinks a few times. The conversation goes on in this manner for a while, me reassuring him that it was okay, essentially, to be a tourist. I'm very frustrated with him. I start to cry. "It's one thing that
kittenpants was sick - she can't help that. But you, you're just being no fun!". At this, he becomes sympathetic and agrees to at least get back on the train.
We walk to the train station, just as the train is arriving. The doors open, and a troupe of Folies Bergere showgirls get out. I have time to wonder whether it's okay for him to stare at *them*, and then I wake up.
I think I'm going to have to go to the doctor. For my goddamned big toe. Ridiculous. And he'll give me antibiotics. And I'll take them, and forget that you can't do oral antibiotics with birth control, and end up spawning, and
Or, I don't do anything about it, and the toe later has to be amputated, and I spend the rest of my life a toeless freak, continually lurching forward on my left foot and never being able to buy proper shoes again. Also untenable.
Stupid toe. *sigh*
Also, for your consideration, a dream:
I'm on vacation with
So we go to some sort of park that you have to ride on a big flume ride in order to get into the park. We duck the guards at the gate, and get on the ride. We go through and get to the park, now soaking wet. Mikey is there, and he talks us into going back to his house, so after a little bit, we leave the park and get on a train.
We ride the train to Mikey's, and end up sleeping over. The next day, we get up and are ready to go back, but
I look at him oddly. "But," I say, "If they're dressed up, they want to be looked at. I think that's okay." He blinks a few times. The conversation goes on in this manner for a while, me reassuring him that it was okay, essentially, to be a tourist. I'm very frustrated with him. I start to cry. "It's one thing that
We walk to the train station, just as the train is arriving. The doors open, and a troupe of Folies Bergere showgirls get out. I have time to wonder whether it's okay for him to stare at *them*, and then I wake up.