Zeal is a volcano, the peak of which the grass of indecisiveness does not grow.
So, the first (and, sadly, the easiest) hurdle is over. I had my EEG yesterday afternoon, and let me drop some knowledge unto you people. Anyone who tells you that EEGs won't hurt if you have long and curly hair is a LYING LIAR WHO LIES.
I went to the EEG lab at a big hospital. The EEG tech was very, very nice, very warm, very intelligent, and very willing to go into detail about everything that she was doing. Her name was Rachel and she quoted Kahlil Gibran at me. I was suitably impressed.
I should pause here and note that I'm very grateful to have shiny health insurance for the next few months such that I can have all of these tests to find out if I'm going to die of some very obscure malignancy.
Anyway. I've noted before that I have very sensitive skin and a very sensitive scalp, so when Rachel the Learned Yet Merciless EEG Tech got out the little scrubbing paste that they use to clean patches of your scalp and forehead so that the electrode thingies will better adhere, it felt like someone was attacking my face and head with a Brillo pad rather than feeling like an energetic cat licking my scalp, which was what I'd been told previously that it would feel like (LYING LIARS WHO LIE). Once I was wired up, everything proceeded apace, although the flashing light sequence was slightly irritating because it nicely approximated what I used to see when I got classic migraines.
Then it was all over. Then came the PAIN. To say that Rachel the Learned Yet Merciless EEG Tech underestimated the sensitivity of my scalp and skin would be an understatement akin to noting that C&B torture might tickle juuuust a bit. The electrodes were ripped off with gusto, I suppressed screaming, I eventually wandered out of the lab and into the nearest restroom so that I could put my hair back into a semblance of unfrizzy, looked in the mirror, and my SCALP WAS BLEEDING in numerous places. I looked like a Drop Bear had latched onto my head. Since I had plans to go grocery shopping directly afterwards, I almost left it like that so I could enact a social experiment in Whole Foods -- how much will people stare at me if I look like I've escaped from a shamble of zombies? -- but sweet reason prevailed, so I cleaned myself up.
I did, however, feel very hardcore when I got to Whole Foods, particularly when I passed the meat counter. HI, GUYS. YOU THINK YOU'RE HARDCORE? DID YOU HAVE YOUR SCALP RIPPED OFF TODAY? NO? I DIDN'T THINK SO.
From Heidi MacDonald's The Beat: Doctor Manhattan hung like a horse in Watchmen.
From the article:
There is indeed shitloads of blue wang. And it’s huge. In the comic book, it’s very average, and uncut, but the film is completely the opposite. Massive and circumcised. Given that it’s digital, was it [Billy] Crudup or his agent that insisted on the impressive cut cock?
Whereupon, Vulture gets all lit-crit:
In the graphic novel, Doctor Manhattan’s peen is modest and understated (do a Google Image Search), symbolizing the character’s impotence in the face of human evil. Adding inches to its length or circumference undermines everything Alan Moore was trying to say about politics, society, and the human condition. At this point, the best we can hope for is that Snyder was more faithful with respect to testicle size.
Man, not even semiotic subtext of Jon's PENIS is safe from Snyder's subterfuge. Self-insert, I wonder?
Next up, more fail. A picture's been leaked of Deadpool merchandise from the Wolverine film, and it shows what Wade will supposedly actually wind up looking like:
That's not a Wade. THAT'S WILDSIDE WITH A SHAVED HEAD.
I will say this, though. The thought of Wade taping knives to his arms like that is hysterical. Because Wade would totally do that to mock Logan.
...What the hell.
There's also a still from the film that apparently backs this up:
Hoax or real?
I dunno. I got nothing. Need more caffeine.
Next up is my MRI. If I can get through that with my sanity intact, I might make it through the spring.
Here, have a macro:
I went to the EEG lab at a big hospital. The EEG tech was very, very nice, very warm, very intelligent, and very willing to go into detail about everything that she was doing. Her name was Rachel and she quoted Kahlil Gibran at me. I was suitably impressed.
I should pause here and note that I'm very grateful to have shiny health insurance for the next few months such that I can have all of these tests to find out if I'm going to die of some very obscure malignancy.
Anyway. I've noted before that I have very sensitive skin and a very sensitive scalp, so when Rachel the Learned Yet Merciless EEG Tech got out the little scrubbing paste that they use to clean patches of your scalp and forehead so that the electrode thingies will better adhere, it felt like someone was attacking my face and head with a Brillo pad rather than feeling like an energetic cat licking my scalp, which was what I'd been told previously that it would feel like (LYING LIARS WHO LIE). Once I was wired up, everything proceeded apace, although the flashing light sequence was slightly irritating because it nicely approximated what I used to see when I got classic migraines.
Then it was all over. Then came the PAIN. To say that Rachel the Learned Yet Merciless EEG Tech underestimated the sensitivity of my scalp and skin would be an understatement akin to noting that C&B torture might tickle juuuust a bit. The electrodes were ripped off with gusto, I suppressed screaming, I eventually wandered out of the lab and into the nearest restroom so that I could put my hair back into a semblance of unfrizzy, looked in the mirror, and my SCALP WAS BLEEDING in numerous places. I looked like a Drop Bear had latched onto my head. Since I had plans to go grocery shopping directly afterwards, I almost left it like that so I could enact a social experiment in Whole Foods -- how much will people stare at me if I look like I've escaped from a shamble of zombies? -- but sweet reason prevailed, so I cleaned myself up.
I did, however, feel very hardcore when I got to Whole Foods, particularly when I passed the meat counter. HI, GUYS. YOU THINK YOU'RE HARDCORE? DID YOU HAVE YOUR SCALP RIPPED OFF TODAY? NO? I DIDN'T THINK SO.
From Heidi MacDonald's The Beat: Doctor Manhattan hung like a horse in Watchmen.
From the article:
There is indeed shitloads of blue wang. And it’s huge. In the comic book, it’s very average, and uncut, but the film is completely the opposite. Massive and circumcised. Given that it’s digital, was it [Billy] Crudup or his agent that insisted on the impressive cut cock?
Whereupon, Vulture gets all lit-crit:
In the graphic novel, Doctor Manhattan’s peen is modest and understated (do a Google Image Search), symbolizing the character’s impotence in the face of human evil. Adding inches to its length or circumference undermines everything Alan Moore was trying to say about politics, society, and the human condition. At this point, the best we can hope for is that Snyder was more faithful with respect to testicle size.
Man, not even semiotic subtext of Jon's PENIS is safe from Snyder's subterfuge. Self-insert, I wonder?
Next up, more fail. A picture's been leaked of Deadpool merchandise from the Wolverine film, and it shows what Wade will supposedly actually wind up looking like:
That's not a Wade. THAT'S WILDSIDE WITH A SHAVED HEAD.
I will say this, though. The thought of Wade taping knives to his arms like that is hysterical. Because Wade would totally do that to mock Logan.
...What the hell.
There's also a still from the film that apparently backs this up:
Hoax or real?
I dunno. I got nothing. Need more caffeine.
Next up is my MRI. If I can get through that with my sanity intact, I might make it through the spring.
Here, have a macro: