07 May 2002 ~ Radioactive waste, reading smut on the bus, and dog poop on Ayn Rand's porch...

I know, I know, I haven't updated in forever and I suck. Oh well. Forgive me?

Am currently sitting in my room feeling like crap and drinking a strawberry soda. My morning was spent in the Student Health Services office, getting prodded and poked and fingered and such.

I really despise doctors' offices. There are intimacies about my body I'd really rather not share with strangers. At least, not strangers I don't find extraordinarily attractive. I mean, you go in there and they take your height and your weight and your blood pressure and your pulse; I don't even know my OWN pulse. Why should I allow somebody ELSE to know it? And depending on what else they do to you, they know when you last got laid, when you last ate asparagus, AND when you last cleaned your belly-button. This is NOT information I would share with the nice folks I meet on the bus or in the coffeeshops. Why do I have to share it with a stranger in a uniform?

So they can make you all better, Helena...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. They told me I have a urinary tract infection, and gave me some pills and told me to go home and drink plenty of fluids. I'm going with strawberry soda. They also said the pills would make my pee orange. Not just orange, but radioactive-waste orange. That's just fucking disgusting. What is this "illness" shit? Ugh.

Other than the Health Services building and the radioactive orange pee, mostly everything has been fine for the past few days. I'm seeing somebody, it seems. I met a nice man on a bus who was reading the same book as me (it was Henry Miller; smut, but smut that's allegedly decent enough to read on a bus). We struck up a conversation and hit it off pretty quickly; we've spent a lot of time together in the past week. His name is Jürgen, and other than his nasty habit of reading smut on public transportation, he's really quite a nice, decent fellow. We made a point of taking the 8.05 PM bus on Monday evening to celebrate knowing each other a whole week. It was sweet. A little saccharin, but nice.

Finished reading "Anthem" by Ayn Rand today. If she wasn't dead (Jürgen has informed me she is), I'd put flaming dog poop on her porch and ring the doorbell. What a self-righteous twatrag! At least it was short and it only took me a day to read it.

It's later than I thought and I'm getting kind of tired. Guess I'm going to retire for the night. Be good, kids. And eat all your asparagus.

Love,
~Helena*