First, I have to start out with an addendum to last week’s post. Ross brought to my attention (because we have been talking about the disable/destroy button for so long, I’d forgotten), he instituted the disable portion. Mostly, because I just wanted to destroy everything. I’m blood thirsty and pragmatic…what can I say?
On to this week’s topic!
Has anyone else had a full body scan at the dermatologist???
No? Let me enlighten you.
This can be a surprisingly invasive process. Last year, when I went to the dermatologist, I wasn’t prepared. I had originally gone in for an acne treatment and I thought this was the follow up visit. When I walked into the room, the nurse took all my information and then giving me a paper gown (of the highest quality, of course) asked me to get undressed. She left and I was…confused. But I ignored this and got undressed down to my panties and bra because why would they need me to get completely naked for acne?
The doctor came in, barely said a word to me, then put on a pair of magnifying glasses (you know the type with a whole headset attached) that made me think she was going to be working on small clock parts instead of looking at my face. Turns out, she was going to be looking at a whole lot more than my face.
When she got under the gown and saw I still had clothes on, she seemed perplexed, eyeing me with a curious expression that made me think she was trying to ascertain if I was stupid or hadn’t followed directions. Making a decision I can only guess at, she asked me to remove them. So I did, kind of seeing where she was going by this time. I got it, she was looking for moles and abnormal skin stuff (that’s a technical term, by the way). The moment she spread my butt cheeks apart, I said, “Excuse me?”, and rolled over. That’s where I draw the line. Not cool folks. Not. Cool. You need to prepare a person for that.
By the time this thing was over, I felt almost traumatized.
Ross was waiting in the car for me because we were heading out of town. When it was all over and got climbed into the front seat, he looked at me and asked what was wrong.
I told him, “I think I might have just been violated,” and relayed the whole thing.
He answered with, “That doesn’t seem right.”
And we were on our way.
Well, today, I was better prepared. However, the moment my cheeks get spread, it still seems wrong. It just does.
Hi Peeps! I know I’m a day late and I’m truly sorry but I had an economics midterm last night so I’ve been stressing about that for the past week. After that fiasco was over, I engaged in an epic binge session consisting of Wendy’s spicy chicken and some cookies. Immediately following that and the last half hour of Real Housewives of Orange County (the drama is ridiculous), I went promptly to sleep. I won’t lie, I might have snuck in like 15 minutes of million dollar listing. I <3 Frederick! Seriously, if he wasn’t gay and I wasn’t married, I might stalk him…just a little. My brain, however, had too much exercise and use yesterday and decided to shut down all on its own.
Sooooo, now that I’m back to the land of the living for at least a day – let’s talk about my weekend. It was Lori Foster’s Reader/Author get together in West Chester Ohio. For those of you not from Ohio, that’s a suburb outside of Cincinnati. There’s an Ikea which is all you really need to know. And yes, I did take time out on Saturday to hop over to Ikea and get some things. Cause that’s how I roll.
Anyway, I drove down on Friday night after work. Which was nice to have a little quiet time to myself. I’d consumed 32 ounces of water throughout the day, then a biggie iced tea on the road. This proved to be a mistake. When I hit 275 (Cincinnati’s outer belt), the traffic stopped because of an accident and the waiting game and the pressure on my bladder began. And honestly, if you can’t drive in a straight line, I don’t think you should be behind the wheel. But I digress, forty five minutes later, I walked into the lobby of the Marriott bouncing up and down to keep from leaving a puddle on the floor.
I stepped up to the counter and said “I need to check in and where’s your restroom?” The kind lady pointed behind me to where the restrooms were located and I took off like a shot. Running down the hall in a dress and espadrilles, I wasn’t looking back. I couldn’t. There wasn’t time. The receptionist asked my name as I turned and ran down the hall. I yelled back at her across the lobby. Classy…I know.
After check in and registration, I only had a little while before the book signing. So I trekked down to the lobby again and set up. They stuck me in the corner at a rounded table with three other others who wrote erotica. I can’t remember any of their names. Shit! I should remember this, we sat together for two whole hours and talked about orgasms and laundry. This is bad. So much for my networking skills. Anyway, after about fifteen minutes, an author at the next table arrives. Now, I only mention this because she was dressed at a viking.
You read that right folks! She was dressed as a fucking VIKING! Furry hat, horns and all – very Brunhilda-esque.
Hitting on her and garnering quite a bit of attention, was our favorite cover model – dubbed in previous years as Skeezy Bastard.
Several friends and I named him this because he hit on all of us and every woman at the bar. He asked poor Amanda if she was sharing a room and if she would like to share it with him. When one of us shot him down at the bar, he moved right on down to the next one…literally. *Sigh* Good times. Skeezy Bastard hit on a lot of women this past weekend, and by late Saturday, he wasn’t being picky in his selection of women either.
Tiff, Eva and I ended up going back to the room after that and having a good old fashion slumber party with lots of giggling and crude jokes.
Saturday, was pretty uneventful. Tiff left so Eva and I were left to our own devices which is never a good idea. We holed up in our room and worked, giggled, and drank. Also, never a good thing. After consuming an entire bottle of wine by myself we headed down to the bar where Eva sucked down 3 tequila Sunrises like someone was going to take them away from her and I had this:
I have no idea what was in this thing except for the nerds at the bottom. It took Eva to explain that it was supposed to be gravel – you know, like in a fish tank. Not my finest moment. And three, count them, three Swedish fish. It was delicious and STRONG! I watched the bartender make one for someone else and said:
“I don’t even care what’s in that but I must have one. This shit is happening!”
We made jokes about Skeezy Bastard, talked about writing, and made friends with the bartender – who by the way, remembered us from last year. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I like to think it just makes us AWESOME!
I drove home Sunday morning, hung out with my husband then we ran over my glasses with the car. Yep, so that was fun. On top of dropping my phone in the zoo’s public toilet a few weekends ago, my expenses for ridiculous shit has skyrocketed. Lug in the nonsense with the Slanty Shanty and we can just call it a day. UGH! I have yet to replace my glasses. I feel like its summer time and I can just use my prescription sunglasses instead until I get new ones. Its worked so far. Also, I haven’t replaced my phone (dubbed the pee phone this weekened by Tiff- Thanks Tiff!) since it’s kinda working with a new battery. I don’t want to talk to anyone anyway and if its important, they’ll just email me.