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April 5 '05
Really beautiful, sunny day her in good ol' Minneapolis.....70 degrees, no wind, not a cloud to be seen....so naturally, I spent most of it in the emergency room.
Finbar smashed through our glass patio table and sliced his right leg to ribbons. 27 stitches. When I think how much worse it could've been, I seriously feel sick. Don't get me wrong, his left leg is a mess, too, but the damage was all on the surface. His right leg has what looks like a bullet hole in it and three deep, tissue-blooping-out-of tears that go from his ankle to his knee. It looks like he was attacked by a tiger.
Our kitchen was trashed and I was just getting ready to start cleaning up when the boy comes screaming into the house and his legs are gushing blood, and I can see blooping tissue so I know this is not just a case of skinned knees. Molly yells, "He smashed through the table!!" and I throw a couple of dish towels on his legs and we all jump in the car and drive to the ER. He is quickly triaged and plunked in a wheelchair, and his crying is long over with and he's now popping wheelies in the wheelchair and Molly is picking fights with winos in the waiting area, so I call Mary Louise who comes and gets Molly for me, Meg is already at her house because she and Josie had a sleepover Saturday night.
So four hours later it's our turn, and Finny watches as the doctor sews him up and says, "Gross!! I see brain cells!" Which makes the doctor laugh, and then the doc sticks his plyers thingy about 2 centimeters into the bullet-hole and pulls out an inch long chunk of glass. Good gravy. He's lucky there was only one. Finny was so brave....he squirmed pretty good when the doc shot the numbing agent into the wounds, but other than that he never cried or even complained. He was excited at the thought of having a scar that matched his dads.
But 27 stitches on a leg that's not real big....it honestly looks like a zipper going down his leg.
And here's the kicker: We'd invited one of his school friends over to play, and I forgot all about them. I didn't have their number with me so I called information, and of course it was unlisted. They were supposed to come over at two, and we didn't even get home until three. I called them and they were'nt home, so I left a message....still haven't heard from them....can you imagine what they must've thougt, showing up at our house to find no one home, the door wide open, the house trashed and covered with blood?? It looked like the scene of a triple homicide.
So four hours later it's our turn, and Finny watches as the doctor sews him up and says, "Gross!! I see brain cells!" Which makes the doctor laugh, and then the doc sticks his plyers thingy about 2 centimeters into the bullet-hole and pulls out an inch long chunk of glass. Good gravy. He's lucky there was only one. Finny was so brave....he squirmed pretty good when the doc shot the numbing agent into the wounds, but other than that he never cried or even complained. He was excited at the thought of having a scar that matched his dads.
He's actually enamored of all his wound dressing. He keeps saying it looks like a cast and telling people "I almost broke my leg."
Meg's friend Mallory is sleeping over, they've taken over the tv room and are knee deep in a Mary Kate and Ashley marathon. I think I've figured out where things went off the rails for Mary Kate; I just overheard a whole musical number about how eating too much ice cream can make you fat. The chef sings a song about how if you do get too porky, it's ok, he'll just make you a low-cal sundae. And I'm sitting here thinking, "Who needs a chef to make a friggin' sundae?" Anorexic is one thing, but anorexic and spoiled I really can't abide.
I've cleaned out all my flower beds and put in new mulch, filled in our back retaining wall with top soil and cleaned the garage out. Then I tackled the deck. I literally spent three hours picking glass shards out of it, all the while thanking God Finny didn't get hurt worse. There were a few boards I thought we'd just have to tear out and replace, but I managed to get every last piece removed. It was like surgery. I sat out there gingerly coaxing glass chunks out with an ice pick and a tweezer, hoping none of it would fly up into my eyes. After I was done, I scubbed the surface with a stiff brush and then hand vac'd it. No deck ever had such a spa day in its life.
So I watched Closer this past weekend, I like it a lot. I have to say Julia R was just stunningly beautiful in it, the best she's ever looked, and she was good. Clive Owen was a maniac. But despite what the dvd ads would have you believe, it's not alove story for adults. It's a love story for really mean, creepy people who have no moral compass. For the rest of us it's just a well acted movie full of potty talk. Also finally watched Napolean Dynamite. A movie for 15 year olds, made by 15 year olds. And I laughed. A lot.
"Tina, you fat lard, come get some dinner!"
I've got Ed Wood (never seen it, and my movie store will basically give you anything that's not a new release for free) waiting in the wings for after these munchkins go to bed. The laundry is done, I must go fold it....
The kids are totally addicted to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. At karate class Molly stands up and belts out, "The only way of lovin' me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee!" Nice. Oh, that reminds me, Finny got his blue belt. Youngest kid in the class by three years. Just sayin'. Five belts in 17 months. Just sayin'. I hope I can keep him alive long enough to get his red belt.
April 15, '05
So I'm super into this show called Forty Deuce on Bravo, it's the real life (surprise!!) chronicling of a fat goof's attempt to open a night club in Vegas. The story is, he opened one in LA and it's this yuuuuuuuge success, so the Mirage asked him to open one there, too. Crazy, damaged dancers and the people who love them. Works for me. The fat goof's name in Ivan Kane. He's 5'2", built like a dump truck and has long black hair and tinted glasses. Looks like a cross between Tiny Tim and Linda Richman. Talks in a very loud, Fran Dreschery voice if she were a four pack a day smoker. My question: what came first, the name Ivan or the look? Clearly his real name is Felix Schwartz or something and he got his ass kicked six ways from Sunday every single day growing up. His wife is Champagne Suzy, a former burlesque dancer. He's always intoducing her that way, too, like normal people would have any flippin' idea who Champagne Suzy is or was.
"Ahhh, the lovely and infamous Champagne Suzy, I remember her well....first saw her in Paris during my blue period, she was the most damaged yet beautiful flower in the garden. But I was high on Absinthe."
Champagne Suzy looks exactly like Markie Post, in fact I'm pretty sure it is her and this is her way of trying to land a new tv show that'll be hyped thusly:
"After 27 years away, America's sweetheart is back......" (cue whatever sappy song is getting the most play on the OC right now and cut to Markie, pushing through double doors in slo-mo) "Markie Post is district attorney Pam Hill in Law and Order: Special C.S.I. Sex-Offender Unit..." and everyone will act like Markie was some great national treasure and not just some low- rung actress from yesteryear. Anyway.
The Old Guard Dancers:
Carolina, the "headliner". Argentenian, about to be deported. Rating on the DamageOmeter: 6
Jade, the redhead. Bubbly personality makes up for her lack of, um, attractiveness. Chronic substance abuser, unreliable, obviously running from demons. DamageOmeter rating: 10
Tracy or Stacy, don't know which. Silver spoon girl. Daddy famous football coach, doesn't know she dances in a burly-q. SO BY ALL MEANS GO ON TV AND TELL THE WORLD. Fairly substantial gaks. DamageOmeter: 5
The new girls:
Dakota, scorching new girl who plans to supplant Carolina from her headliner status. DamageOmeter: 0
Scrawny anorexic whos name I didnt' catch: Parents both dead, one from suicide. DamageOmeter: 10
Blonde who couldn't finish her set because of a lack of mental fortitude, obviously also full of demons: DamageOmeter: 10
What's not to love?
Here's what's funny......
Consider our local neighborhood stoner, who's been working at the Lake Harriet ice cream stand for 30 years and spends all his free time roller skating, (he's the one guy who never changed over to roller blades; I'm not sure he knows it's no longer 1979) chatting up anyone who will listen and buying new roach clips to stick in his hair. He's a fixture. Really friendly. Almost as many fans as the dear departed Linden Hills Larry had.
His brother is running for State senator. It's a sit-com, I tell you, a smash hit sit-com. Or at least a play at Bryant Lake Bowl.
I have to go get dressed, but for the record, I LOVED CONSTANTINE BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE JUMPED ON THE BANDWAGON. HE'S MINE MINE MINE.
April 23, '05
They can tell me I can't smoke at the Cabooze, (which is total b.s., by the way,) but they can have my Sudafed WHEN THEY PRY IT FROM MY COLD, DEAD FINGERS. Ya hear me, Pawlenty??
Honest to Pete, it sounds like a joke, dunnit? WE LIVE IN MINNESOTA!!!!!!!WE'RE SICK ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME!!!! MOM'S FACE PUFFS UP EVERY TIME SHE LEAVES THE HOUSE, AND THEY WANT TO TAKE HER BENADRYL AWAY!!!!! WHAT IN THE SAM FRANK????
Here's an idea, how 'bout we work on busting up meth labs and lockin' up the perps for life instead? Normally I wouldn't be for such an extreme punishment on a drug offense, but I got news for everyone: if the alternative is no more Sudafed for me, string 'em up. Make the biggest, fattest example of 'em you can. Swing 'em from the town square, stick their heads on the tower of London, perform female genital mutilation, whatever. I GET SUPER STUFFY AND MY HEAD HURTS LIKE A MOTHER AND I NEED MY LITTLE RED FRIENDS TO GET ME THROUGH.
I already wrote to Pawlenty and said if he doesn't veto this idiocy I WON'T EVER COME GAMBLE AT HIS CANTERBURY CASINOS. Oh, fine, take my vice away and think I'm gonna indulge yours? It dun work that way, pal.
Mike is home! Yay. He came home Thursday night, we're all in a tizzy. I felt freakishly tired all day yesterday, I'm sure it's just my body unwinding after being in a state of constant tension the last year. I feel like General Patton and the backup finally arrived. Probably a bad example since he never would've fessed up to needing backup, but I couldn't think of anything else.
Last night we watched Little Black Book. Complete F. Horrible, offensive in its badness. Brittany Murphy's idea of acting is to open her eyes real wide and whisper. Holly Hunter plays her best friend. Boy, that makes a lot of sense. Um, you're 27, Holly H is 50. What exactly do you two talk about? Oh, I see, you're both girls in the workplace, so naturally since you have the same equipment, you have a bond. A bond consisting of obsessing over boys, and whether or not they cheat on us. Cuz men are awful and women are insecure. There was even a scene where Brittany and Holly dance around and sing into fake microphones, I'm not kidding.
Monday April 25 '05
I got a couple of reply emails from the governor's office about the Sudafed ban. Both form letters. "Dear Loser, thanks fro the note, which is more than the gov could be bothered to do. He's busy. Leave him alone." Something like that. Starting watching Ocean's 12 last night but we were too tired to finish it. I gotta clean the kitchen, its covered with syrup.
© Katie McCollow, 2005 • katie.mccollow@mac.com
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