I Like Pterodactyls.
This last week officially topped out as utterly terrible.
Jeff's funeral was last Friday. It was hard. Perhaps one of the most difficult ventures to date. I sat in the pew next to Kris and Tara, holding Dan's hand so tightly I swear it started to turn purple, and gazed up at the open casket with my friend inside. I sat there the whole time just waiting for him to twitch. To jump up suddenly and scream, "GOTCHA!" to all the tear-stained friends and family. For camera men to come out of hiding. For some television host to blurt out that we were all on some new, ridiculous reality television show. That never happened. At the end of the service I walked up to the casket and took my last look at him. I was crying everywhere. Shaking so badly I could barely control myself. I managed to put one of the hundreds of plastic snakes that Jeff brought to my house into his casket, right on his chest. It was his turn to Take A Snake. Most of you will never understand what that even means.
After the service everyone went over to Jeff's house for a huge celebration. I gathered together Kris, Rob, Jawn, Walker, and Conner and showed them the videos that Jeff had shown me only a day or two before the accident. Wrestling and breaking ribs and Edward 40 hands. It was nice to get all of us together again.
We all decided to set up a benefit show to help out Jeff's family with all the funeral costs. It's this weekend. COME TO IT!!
Outside of such tragics, I have spent the last two weeks or so in and out of emergency rooms and doctor's offices. Before Jeff's accident, I woke up in the middle of the night with searing pain in my abdomen and finally had Dan take me to the emergency room. After near 12 hours of pokes and prods and x-rays and cat-scans and tests and pain medications that made me feel all crazy and drugged up and saying weird things to Dan while I was all drugged up, they finally told me that I had an ovarian cyst rupture. They sent me home with pain killers. The next day I saw my doctor and he thinks I may have an ulcer. I'm seeing a naturopath and an acupuncturist, but pretty much no one knows what is wrong with me. I'm nauseous always. My innards hurt. I can only do about an hour or two of massage before I hurt so much I can barely move. I can only eat retarded stuff like Cream of Rice and saltine crackers or else I feel sick. It's seriously lame.
Outside of this, I have been spending so much time with Dan. Yesterday him and I went to a Volkswagen show and got to peruse tons of interesting vehicles, got free shirts and stickers and license plate covers, and got to ride in one of the new Jettas with a professional driver on a professional course. It was incredible. We had to wear helmets and they made us sign a waiver in case they killed us. I've never driven quite like that before. I loved it. After the VW show, Dan and I headed up to Seattle for the Capitol Hill Block Party. We ended up watching Mary Timony, Akimbo, These Arms Are Snakes, and Built To Spill. We walked around a lot. We slept on the grass in the park. We ate some fine food. We had just an overall really good time...despite it being 90 degrees and burning our necks and noses.
It's so strange to be with a boy like Dan. I'm happy with him. I'm really, really happy with him. He takes off work and holds my hand all day long when I go to the hospital. He takes me out for ice cream when I've had a terrible day. He lets me cry on him. He hugs me and holds me and supports me in everything I try to do. He puts up with my sarcasm and all the retarded things I do and say. He goes on adventures with me. He introduces me to new things. And I love that he isn't an idiot. He doesn't drink or do drugs or smoke and I love Love LOVE him so much for that. He is so smart and knows so much about things that I don't. He treats me well. Really, really well. He smells so good I could just die. He has the most lovely musculoskeletal system I have yet graced. He is cute and hot and handsome and sexy all rolled into one. And he loves me. He really really loves me. And for once I know that is true. I don't have to question it or think he's just saying it for some other reason...to get something out of me...to get something from me. He's such a good person. I'm so happy I'm with him and I'm so happy he is coming with me when I go to grad school. He and I are going to build a house. And get a bulldog. I am really excited about everything about us. I'm glad that with all this trauma and tragedy, of late, I have someone as wonderful as this for support.
+
=
Jeff's funeral was last Friday. It was hard. Perhaps one of the most difficult ventures to date. I sat in the pew next to Kris and Tara, holding Dan's hand so tightly I swear it started to turn purple, and gazed up at the open casket with my friend inside. I sat there the whole time just waiting for him to twitch. To jump up suddenly and scream, "GOTCHA!" to all the tear-stained friends and family. For camera men to come out of hiding. For some television host to blurt out that we were all on some new, ridiculous reality television show. That never happened. At the end of the service I walked up to the casket and took my last look at him. I was crying everywhere. Shaking so badly I could barely control myself. I managed to put one of the hundreds of plastic snakes that Jeff brought to my house into his casket, right on his chest. It was his turn to Take A Snake. Most of you will never understand what that even means.
After the service everyone went over to Jeff's house for a huge celebration. I gathered together Kris, Rob, Jawn, Walker, and Conner and showed them the videos that Jeff had shown me only a day or two before the accident. Wrestling and breaking ribs and Edward 40 hands. It was nice to get all of us together again.
We all decided to set up a benefit show to help out Jeff's family with all the funeral costs. It's this weekend. COME TO IT!!
Outside of such tragics, I have spent the last two weeks or so in and out of emergency rooms and doctor's offices. Before Jeff's accident, I woke up in the middle of the night with searing pain in my abdomen and finally had Dan take me to the emergency room. After near 12 hours of pokes and prods and x-rays and cat-scans and tests and pain medications that made me feel all crazy and drugged up and saying weird things to Dan while I was all drugged up, they finally told me that I had an ovarian cyst rupture. They sent me home with pain killers. The next day I saw my doctor and he thinks I may have an ulcer. I'm seeing a naturopath and an acupuncturist, but pretty much no one knows what is wrong with me. I'm nauseous always. My innards hurt. I can only do about an hour or two of massage before I hurt so much I can barely move. I can only eat retarded stuff like Cream of Rice and saltine crackers or else I feel sick. It's seriously lame.
Outside of this, I have been spending so much time with Dan. Yesterday him and I went to a Volkswagen show and got to peruse tons of interesting vehicles, got free shirts and stickers and license plate covers, and got to ride in one of the new Jettas with a professional driver on a professional course. It was incredible. We had to wear helmets and they made us sign a waiver in case they killed us. I've never driven quite like that before. I loved it. After the VW show, Dan and I headed up to Seattle for the Capitol Hill Block Party. We ended up watching Mary Timony, Akimbo, These Arms Are Snakes, and Built To Spill. We walked around a lot. We slept on the grass in the park. We ate some fine food. We had just an overall really good time...despite it being 90 degrees and burning our necks and noses.
It's so strange to be with a boy like Dan. I'm happy with him. I'm really, really happy with him. He takes off work and holds my hand all day long when I go to the hospital. He takes me out for ice cream when I've had a terrible day. He lets me cry on him. He hugs me and holds me and supports me in everything I try to do. He puts up with my sarcasm and all the retarded things I do and say. He goes on adventures with me. He introduces me to new things. And I love that he isn't an idiot. He doesn't drink or do drugs or smoke and I love Love LOVE him so much for that. He is so smart and knows so much about things that I don't. He treats me well. Really, really well. He smells so good I could just die. He has the most lovely musculoskeletal system I have yet graced. He is cute and hot and handsome and sexy all rolled into one. And he loves me. He really really loves me. And for once I know that is true. I don't have to question it or think he's just saying it for some other reason...to get something out of me...to get something from me. He's such a good person. I'm so happy I'm with him and I'm so happy he is coming with me when I go to grad school. He and I are going to build a house. And get a bulldog. I am really excited about everything about us. I'm glad that with all this trauma and tragedy, of late, I have someone as wonderful as this for support.
+
=