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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Kick in the head

One of my ailments has turned out to have a silver lining: I am designing a brochure for my cute podiatrist. From neuroma to osteotomy to being on a first name basis with Dr. K? Weird.

TA calls the doctor Doogie Howser because he looks so young. Maybe I should just start referring to him in this diary as Doogie Howser? You could call me Punky Brewster, I look so young for my age.

Anyway, I went to his office on Monday to talk about the project with him. At one point, he asked me to close the door because he wanted to bitch about the other doctor. As I did so, one of his nurses—one who’s treated me in the past—gave me a Look with a capital L when she said hello.

I had to re-enact The Look for TA when I got home. (This is the same nurse who at my first consultation told me that if she had big boobs, she wouldn’t have them surgically reduced. No, she’d “be all [chest thrust]—BOOM!—you know what I’m sayin’?” Uh, ok.)(Hey didn’t the actress who played Punky have a breast reduction? I think so.)

TA: “So you think the nurse thinks something’s up between you and the doctor?”

Me: “Her look was definitely one of suspicion. Isn’t that awesome! She totally thinks I may be having an affair with Doogie Howser! Or that something fishy is going on!”

TA: “There goes the office pool. I bet those women were hoping it would be one of them.”

So I’ve been working like crazy, and the hands and wrists are none too pleased. They are so achy and fucked, I wish I could inject myself with some Foxo3a and get back to being myself. Immune system, can you hear me? What gives? Why are you attacking yourself and messing with me? Enough already! I hope science can figure out how to reprogram my immune system so it goes back to behaving itself.

Tonight is Sophie’s Choice. No, not the movie. I have a scary choice to make. Do I spend 2 hours indulging in America’s Next Top Model? Or do I watch So You Think You Can Dance?

My life is thrilling, I know.

4:28 p.m. - 2005-09-21



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