UPDATE: End of Days Sooner than We Originally Thought...

Oh those silly New Agers with their ridiculous theories and Mayan Calendars, don't they know the rapture is coming in like 4 months, 18 days (I'm not counting)?  That's right people, according to WeCanKnow! JC is coming back May 21, 2011 to judge us all and then will destroy the world on October 21, 2011.

This prediction was close.

Is it really going to take him 5 months to decide who comes with him and who goes out with a bang?  I could expedite the process for him, and start a list - sort of like Santa does... Honestly I wish I would have known about this sooner, because I would have went really big for Halloween last year. Last Halloween was like my off-year, I didn't have a good costume, I had a cold, I just was not feeling it.  If only I would have known, last Halloween on earth!  I would have rallied and splurged on that Lady Gaga wig.

I like her pants. 

I guess I can toss out those New Year's Resolutions.  Hey Mom, I don't need a job now, not if I'm going to be busy preparing for the rapture, which includes figuring out what I need to do to prepare for the rapture.  For now I'm going to order some free bumper stickers, which one should I get:

I feel like this one is really male-centric, and I find it a bit off-putting. Like are they trying to say only men are going to be judged?  And also does judgement day start at midnight on the 20th?  Or noon on the 21st?  I'm guessing midnight, which means I'm either drinking a bunch of coffee past my bedtime on the 20th, or I'm liable to sleep right through.  And I don't want to miss this.

I think I'm partial to the Noah Knew sticker.  I really enjoy the water motif.

Oh crap!  I don't have a car, so it's sort of silly for me to get a bumper sticker...

Thank God, there is a Save the Date Calendar, I can use on my desk.   Obviously it ends on May 21st, but actually shouldn't it end on October 21 the last day?  I don't want to be judge-y, but they should get really try to get the dates right.  I have a lot of planning to do.   And at least one book to read.

Instant Best Seller!

The End of the World as We Know It...

So, the other day I downloaded the warmly titled: End of World app for my iphone.  Obviously it's going to happen sometime soon (I like to stay informed), plus the app was free.  This particular app predicts December 21, 2012 as our last day on earth, which I'm fine with, but it only gives us: 798 days, 14 hours, 33 minutes, and 27 seconds (as of this posting).  I better get busy.

Now I also read a particular disturbing account on the World Wide Web (!) that threatened, Snooki from Jersey Shore fame was to write a book. Whoa, I'm sorry I meant to say novel.  Did she receive an MFA between pickles?

Question: Are the two linked?
Answer: Quite possibly.

P.S. For the 2 people...wait, I'm sorry, the 1 person (you know who you are) who asked when I was going to "blog" again...here it 'tis.  And thanks for caring.

Psssss....Simon & Schuster, pardon my French, but what the F*ck are you thinking?  Ursula Le Guin is about to go down to the Shore and kick some serious ass.

It Begins and Ends with Shoddy Medical Care

So imagine my surprise when Indian Dr. Clooney bursts in the exam room with a cast in hand, and then asks, “so, how you doing?”

“Okay...”

Then he puts the cast beside me on the exam table, and picks up this mini-circular saw and starts wielding it towards the table, towards me.

“Just making an adjustment...”

I lean away. 

“You might want to move.” Not so much a suggestion as a foregone conclusion, as he was already sawing away.

I hopped as quickly as a broken-footed patient can from a elevated exam table, and waited in the corner on my one good foot. As the non-ventilated room echoed with the grating sound of the saw cutting through the plaster, I thought he should have at least offered me safety googles.

This cast was not for me. 

He left the room and a small pile of white powder where I had been sitting moments ago, which then reminded me of my dream early this morning (after the puking dog woke me up in the middle of the night and I fell asleep for about 15 minutes before my alarm went off). 

I was sitting on this bed with an overweight middle eastern guy who opens a big brick of cocaine and has me smell it. Unfortunately I wake up before I can sample the goods. And then I am reminded of yet another way Sex in the City 2 has damaged and penetrated my sleep-deprived psyche (I could go on and on about that disaster of a motion picture, but that's for another time).

Later I had physical therapy, and naturally there was an eager-eyed intern following us around.  What's with all the interns?

After that my favorite pen exploded all over my hands, it was one of those nice $7 ones.  Naturally I was in my car with no napkins, or tissues. Now I look like I work on cars all day, or I'm responsible for cleaning up the oil spill. 

Then there was a dog fight towards the end of my evening.

Poor little Elliot, 2 puncture wounds to the chest.

A trip to Animal ER, one cracked-out-late-shift-long-haired vet, and a hefty bill later:  I might never get sleep or proper medical care in this country, canine or otherwise.  

Another Reason I Find Stephenie Meyer Utterly Distasteful

Well, let's be honest there is definitely more than one reason.

Today in particular I'd like to focus on the fact that you can't google the word, “twilight” and not see 50 google pages devoted to Twilight the book, or Twilight the movie. What if I was a foreigner, like say I was from Arizona and wanted to know what the word twilight meant, because maybe I read it in an actual book by a real writer, and all I got was pictures of vampires. This would be utterly confusing and I would forever walk (before Border Patrol tackled me and send me back down south) around associating a fascinating time of the evening with vampires. If I was on facebook I would start a group to eradicate any and all twilight/vampire associations from the popular lexicon.

But I am just one person with a solitary dream.

This was the twilight I was seeking:

A Perfectly Awful Start to a Week, and Everything Wrong with our Healthcare System

First, I bought a fancy racing bike – even though I'm not a bike racer.  It's real pretty and fast. I'm a safe, courteous biker, unlike the masses of angry, law-braking (that's a funny pun) bikers here in SF (sorry it's true! I've seen y'all in action).

Anyways, Sunday night I'm biking to the mission, and very careful to avoid the train tracks around Church street, but like a sick cosmic magnet my tire falls into the tracks and I fall down. 

BOOM. BAM.

Well, more like I fell over with my feet still clipped to my pedals.

Lucky for me this happened at a busy intersection across the street from a café, so numerous hipsters could bear witness to this tragedy. 

As I lay in street bruised, broken, and totally humiliated two nice gay men picked up my bike and then me.

After I limped and cried half a block to my destination, I called my father, the doctor, who encouraged me to ice and elevate my foot. Two days later still in pain and unable to walk I experienced the complete and utter ridiculousness that is our health care system.

Let me break down how the medical profession likes to treat people with a broken foot:

See doctor on the 5^th floor.

Gimp down to the 4^th floor for an x-ray.

Take x-ray back up to 5^th floor. 

Diagnosis – your foot is messed up (sorry dad, she's right!).

Gimp over to reception.

Make appointment with Othro.

Gimp home.
Gimp back to othro with xray in hand.

(Note: this is not my foot, although we both did bust up our 5th metatarsals)


Othro doctor introduces me to his residents (yes multiple) – he thinks he's Indian George Clooney in ER's heyday. Twists my poor, swollen foot to and fro while saying blah - medical words - blah, blah to his captive female audience, as I try not to pass out/release my last meal from the pain.

Tells me I might need surgery and to come back in a week.


Another man gives me directions to place to pick up boot and crutches.

Place does not have boot or crutches.

Find out no place has boot or crutches.

Get boot at Othro office. 

Get crutches from friend. 

Go to Starbucks, with my xray.

Another Fantastic Week to be Marginally Employed

Why, you ask?
Let me count the ways...
I started the week awakened by the sounds of a mariachi band outside the window, totally random and amazing.

Then I went outside in a t-shirt without fear of getting frostbite that could later lead to gangrene or other unsightly condition. I got a coffee at the corner, listened to the music and then went about my day.

I sort of looked like that, sort of.

Then I did some other stuff.

I wrote some pointless stuff that no one will read, I thought about writing stuff that people would read, and I generally tried to channel positivity, or at least think about channeling some positive shit.

Then in the middle of the week, I went to a lovely charity event.
Where mostly naked girls wrestled each other in a ring of water-based lube.

There was a pretty substantial crowd so I did not see much, but I imagine it was as challenging as carrying a giant corn up an escalator. 

Then this morning I got an email from my dad with more evidence that I will soon grace of the cover of VOGUE.  You can't be a fashion icon your whole life without that being an eventuality. 

I hope no one is too jealous of my matching top and shorts comic strip ensemble. 

Goodbye Facebook, or Why I Quit You.

This feels like a break-up of sorts. I feel like I need to explain myself. It's been 4 days since I became facebook free. You know, I thought I'd be a little empty inside.  Thought the detox would be painful, the withdrawal substantial.  There were other times I tried quit, tried to stay away. Each time lasted hours, once a few days.

This time was different.

This time I deactivated, which wasn't easy. As soon as I took the first step, they tugged at my heartstrings, If you leave Nikki will miss you! Send her a message before you go. Nikki's profile picture stared longingly back at me. Then Annie popped up, and Amy, and Liz. They want you to stay!

No, I clicked continue. Then facebook wanted to know why: did I spend too much time there, was I unhappy about something, was there another reason? I clicked: other. Then continue. Another dialogue box popped up, but why? Why did you chose other? Please explain. I'd rather now not say. They promised I could come back anytime, they would be waiting, my spot would be held.

I wanted to tell them this was not my original plan. I never wanted to leave.

It started as a necessary cleanse in the beginning of the week. Deleting those few high school acquaintances whose Jesus Saves!, abortion murders baby angels, and bible-quoting updates were no longer that funny and ironic to recite and make fun of, because they were actually being serious. Once the deleting started, I decided couldn't take another “friend” joining a group like, I'll vote for Palin in 2012 (also not ironic), or Let's see if this poodle in a tinfoil hat can get more fans than Glenn Beck!, or I'm glad I can see my ex got fat after we broke-up!

Maybe it was the incessantly inane status updates and my inability to not check them constantly, either on my computer or my iphone. Maybe it was conundrum of blocking certain friends' feeds because of their constant updating, and then having nothing interesting to look at in my news feed. Maybe it was the addiction to farmville, gathering more and more neighbors so I could keep expanding my property. Maybe there was no one interesting left to stalk. Maybe I did not want one more former high school classmate peering into my adult life when we had had zero contact since graduation, and aside from clicking “confirm as a friend” zero contact since.

I started thinking: What do these people do all day that they can constantly update their status, join groups, or ask for more nails so they can finish their horse stable on farmville? Why do I give a shit and waste even 5 seconds of my day reading about someone making a grilled cheese for their kid, or being stuck in traffic (obviously they didn't take the Oprah oath about texting and driving), or I'm in Maui and it's so great I'm updating my facebook status. I sort of thought about how the whole world might stop on it's axis because 89% of the workforce is updating their status, uploading pictures, joining groups, playing games, or worse facebook instant messaging.

I had what I would like to label as an “unconscious slip-up” occur in the past 4 days. Typing a URL into my web browser I automatically starting typing: www.fac – then I stopped myself. If I had any doubts deactivating was the right choice, I knew then and there I had been in too deep. My fingers have a muscle memory I now must work everyday to correct.

I've received some confused texts: ummm...I can't find your Facebook page? Why can't I send you a farmville gift. Can you send me another sheep? Do you hate me? Why did you delete me?  Are we in a fight? 

I started to rethink my decision, should I reactive and update my status: I'm leaving facebook, I still like most of you, find me in the human world if you would like to interact. But, I stayed strong, stayed away. I've started to read before bed again, something I haven't done since I expanded my farm to a plantation.

Sure I'll miss out on certain things, won't know the every move of every person remotely connected to my life, but I realized I'm ok with that. I'll survive not knowing the girl I once sat next to in home room hates finding out her roommate incorrectly uses the word copulate, or a former co-worker wishes the rain would stop, or an individual I (once) respected enjoyed the Twilight series.

If I had a status update it would be: 

Hello world – I've missed you.