some things have happened.

Here they are:

The Incision
The Cripple finally had back surgery. Yayy! I had to take care of her during the recovery process. Nayy! I have a whole new appreciate for nurses in hospitals. Helping totally drugged out people who are barely able to move on their own is not easy. Especially when every conversation goes like this:

          THE CRIPPLE: mumblemumblemumble...
          ME:  What? Do you need something? What can I get for you?
          THE CRIPPLE: murrfff..mumblemumble..merrr..mehhh.
          ME:  More drugs?
          THE CRIPPLE: mmrrrnnnnoooo
          ME:  The bathroom? Do you have to go to the bathroom?
          THE CRIPPLE: mmrrrrnoooo...noorr
          ME:  Food? Are you hungry?
          THE CRIPPLE:  mehh. mumblemumble.
          ME:  ..................
          THE CRIPPLE: meh, meh, mehmehmeh
          ME:  Okay, more drugs then it is.

I had to dish out so many different types of pills, all on different time schedules, that I had to make a notebook with a schedule in it. And then I'd check off the little pill names in the notebook once I fed them to her. There was a organized system. A GODDAMN PILL SYSTEM. Not normal.

OK, so one of these  right now, 2 of those in 28 minutes, and 3 of these 4 times a day....

And one of these for me right now because I'm slowly going crazy.

Also awesome was me having to call her every 3 hours while I was at work to tell her to take another pill. You can only whisper "It's time to take a laxative" into the phone so many times before everyone in your office starts to give you weird looks. But in all seriousness, I was happy to take care of her. No really. I'm totally caring like that.

The Uhaul

The Cripple moved into my house. We are a goddamn stereotype. It's fine. Royce still isn't allowed to bark at the mailman though. Only one stereotype per house.

The Gig

Amanda's band had a gig a couple weekends ago, and it's been a while so I got understandably overly excited. Which generally leads to overly drinking. We also routinely bring nips into the establishment she played at to add to our drinks, since the bar insists on using a pourer to measure out precise minuscule amounts of alcohol to put into our drinks. (Fuck you, responsibility.) By the time we left I was pretty toasty, so we headed to our friends Meg and Ed's for some after-gig excitement where everyone continued drinking, ate some good food, laughed, chatted, and I.......emptied the dishwasher. I stood over the open dishwasher looking down on it's contents, studying them like I was about to start the goddamn SATs.

          MEG: ...what are you doing?

          ME:  Formulating a plan.

Then I started putting dishes away.

          MEG:  You don't have to do that.

          ME:  No, I have to help you. ::dish, dish, dish, dish, dish::

          MEG:  Really, just sit down and relax.

          ME: I HAVE TO HELP YOU.

The next day I went back to their house and noticed my work. All the tall glasses mixed in with the short glasses. Mugs just scattered throughout. Bowls on plates on bowls. Some glasses rim down, some rim up. It looks like a goddamn drunk person did this. Wait a minute....

Bad Decision:  Choosing "creative dishwasher emptying" as your after-party activity.

Better Bad Decision:  Mixing the mugs with the glasses. Those guys have always been loners.

The Hangover

I just laid around for 8-10 hours moaning.

The Snuggle Fest

During The Cripple's recovery, her mother and brother came to stay at my house for a few days. I warned them of the vicious guard dog that they would have to face upon arrival. They were scared. I could tell. I was scared too. Nothing like your dog biting your new girlfriend's mom to make a great impression. Then they arrived, and sat on my couch, and then.......

Royce fell in love with The Cripple's mom.

You pet me. You pet me now.

(Cripple's mom is downright shocked.)

AND THEN.....

Royce fell even more in love with The Cripple's brother.

We are soul mates.

Royce HATES men, but for some reason he loved The Brother. And The Brother loved him. Throughout their stay at my house, The Brother took Royce for a walk approximately once an hour and called him "Thunder" the entire time. Since their visit, Royce now looks at me, barks, and looks at his leash every hour on the hour when I am home. He also answers to "Thunder". Awesome.

On the plus side, apparently the entire family is dog approved.

The Mowing

On a nice day three weeks ago I went outside and mowed my lawn. Oh wait...no....that never happened. My yard is a goddamn forest of 3 foot high clover. Royce walks in there and I can't even see him. I lost him in there just this morning.

The Plea

It's been a while since I went out to a lesbian night in the city, so on Friday we headed to the closing party of some lesbo night. We walked in and there were approximately 15 homely looking women dancing awkwardly. We had one drink and walked immediately back out. As we were waiting for a cab a girl who had been inside came up to me and said with desperation in her eyes and voice, "Where else is there to go around here?" I hesitated for a second and she said with slightly more panic, "Is there another gay night somewhere near here?!"  I gave her a sad little smile and climbed into my taxi with my friends. She watched us drive away, her arm extended, her eyes pleading for us not to leave her. "TAKE ME WITH YOU" she yelled.

OK, so those last 2 sentences are completely made up, but she did have that look as we climbed into the cab. It's rough out there.

Life Lesson: Always have a backup plan.

Taxi!

-LSLP, Ash.