Maybe I need to change my style. It's getting all Wild Kingdom up in here. Looking back over the last couple of weeks, I've had the moth, the chicken, the spider, the possum. I might as well start a cooking blog: Val's Bizarre Hillbilly Treats. Is it a Freudian slip that I first typed "teats" in place of treats? That would be a different blog entirely.
Yesterday I had an appointment with the optometrist. I didn't take a book with me like I do at the doctor's office, because I didn't want my eyes all focusing and unfocusing just before the exam. An opto appointment is not as stressful as a doctor's appointment. There are no sick people to breathe on you, only whiny kids who commandeer the ceiling-mounted TV for cartoons that they pointedly ignore. And I was lucky enough to get a 2:30 appointment, so no whiny kids were around. Nap time, you know.
Another good thing about the opto office is the carpeting throughout. More homey instead of industrial. You know there won't be any emergency gurney-racing down the halls, or clean-up pages for various and sundry effluences that might taint the tile. Once you get back to the inner sanctum, you don't see sharp or hosey objects that may be applied to your body. Only stainless steel contraptions that twist and turn and telescope and retract, kind of like adult Transformer toys.
After checking in with picture ID and insurance cards, I sat down to wait. And wouldn't you know it? I got the urge. Don't you find that you get the urge at the most inconvenient times in the most inconvenient places? You know what I'm talking about...the urge to write. Thoughts were pinging through my noggin like spitballs through a classroom controlled by a substitute. I was generating enough material for a week's worth of posts. On both my blogs. Woe was me. I started making pictures in my mind. That's a way to remember things, I've been told. If you can't remember names, then when you're introduced to John Goodman, picture a dude sitting on a toilet with a teacher's red stamp of "Good" on his forehead.
I don't want to foreshadow what you're in for this week, but my picture was somebody peeing on Tom Cruise, who had gray roots and feet dripping with sweat.
4 comments:
Oh, I hate when that urge comes over you! I keep little notebooks in my purse, but sometimes I'll find notes that say things like, "beard-guy and toenails" and have no idea what that means. I also wonder what would happen if I got murdered and the police found those notes.
Btw, you're going to write about me, huh? I have gray roots and sweat a lot these days. Except I've never peed on Tom Cruise. I might be willing, though.
Uuuum...Gurney races...tainted tile...hosey objects...urine-soaked Tom Cruise.
Your doctor visits sound WAY more fun than my doctor visits...
Woman,
If you are about to expose me and my gray roots...
I have these writing urges, too. They are so fabulous, I swear I'll remember them as soon as I get home. Yeah, uh-huh, I went downstairs three times today to get Kleenex and got sidetracked three times! I'm heading dow to the basement again. Can't wait to read your posts this week.
Tammy,
So you're like Seinfeld, when he wrote "flaming globes of Sigmund" after waking up with a fantastic idea. I have carried a little notebook for a couple of years. This week, I started writing in it.
Two out of four ain't bad. Meat Loaf got the lyrics wrong. I can understand that, after seeing him on Celebrity Apprentice.
*****************************
Sioux,
Not so much FUN, as odd occurrences worth writing about. The lemons for my lemonade, if you will.
******************************
Linda,
Yes. It's an expose' on you and Tammy. Sioux is saved because of her apparent lack of medical services stimulation.
I used to forget three or four SCATHINGLY BRILLIANT IDEAS every day at school. I've started writing them down like a student reporter.
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