In Other News
There is a spot on my lower back that feels like a serious bruise and only hurts whenever I move. This morning I showed the spot to a friend of mine and asked him if there was anything there. He said no. Then he added, "Or not yet." So, I'm thinking either I ran backwards into a doorknob or I have cancer.
The other night I did karaoke with Kyuti and my friend Pooter who is visiting from California. Pooter had a friend with her who had a friend with him who had a friend with her who happened to be the actress who played Maggie in the final two seasons of Six Feet Under. I had a starstruck/idiot moment. (I loved that show so much I wanted to marry it.) When she introduced herself and we shook hands I actually said these actual words: "Hey. Nice to meet you... Wait! Oh my god—I just figured out who you are! That's so funny!"
Right. Because why wouldn't she think it was hilarious?
Had I not been a bit muddly from funneling in a few free drinks at a rock show earlier that night, and getting caught in a midsummer night rainstorm with horndogged visions of a couple of cute boys dancing in my blurry head, I'm fairly certain that I would have had a similar reaction. This is to my own credit, obviously.
Even though all I wanted to do was talk to her about how she totally fucked Nate on her couch while the knowing mother of his unborn child and her two grand tetons were waiting for him at the Amish church or whatever, I managed to not make a further ass of myself, unless you consider singing "Stone Cold" by Rainbow "embarrassing", which I absolutely do not.
If I don't have the C-word of the verterbrae this was probably the night I mysteriously backed my thing up into something hard protruding from something.
