Week Ending

Elevator greetings still going strong. So far only a few grumblings but mostly people seem to not notice anymore. I'm not sure how I feel about that. People tend to have short attention spans. I'm also completely dry on what our next Action Item should be. It'll come to me.

I spent Friday - because I know you're dying to know - in therapy...learning how to walk with a cane! It was their ugly Hospital-Issue and I *Really* didn't want to be lugging it around with me, but it's worlds better than crutches. Especially in the bathroom. You have no idea. Or maybe you do. If you do, you have my sympathy. Or is it empathy? I get them confused.

On Saturday my mom got home from her morning classes (her yoga studio is on the 3rd floor of our building) brandishing a Cane that would make even the Dapperest Dandy swoon. I quickly replaced the Hospital Issue with a sturdy but attractive bamboo cane made by one of her most loyal students.

She promptly took advantage of my moment of weakness to declare Family Weekend. Loosely translated: Only Bec Can Come Over. No Boarding. No Running Around Town Taking Pictures of Your Friends. No Phone Calls Longer Than 5 Minutes. Sudden, and Absolute Boredom Must Prevail.

So then she announces that Bec's mom is gone for the weekend and Bec is staying with us. Aha. It all makes sense now.

It was a good weekend - we screened the Caper Film. We discussed the Secret Society...mom is what we've decided to call a "Cohort." But I feel like I haven't told you about that, for which I apologize.

A Society Tuesday Cohort is a Woman who has graduated high school - henceforth to be alumni of Society Tuesday - who has pull in some way. My mom has pull with her clients (some of whom are very high powered) and my father (I could tell you what he does but I'd have to kill you...kidding. Mostly.) She's also got a fairly comprehensive knowledge of the law and will serve as a sounding board to make sure we don't break it too badly. Cecily is also a cohort because she's about to be back from Orientation and has decided that documenting our summer is the best idea she's ever had. She's also amenable to not telling Lars and keeping most of our secrets. Because what good is it having a secret society if no one knows you exist? They need to know a LITTLE bit, right? Look at the Masons. Or the Skull and Bones.

When Bec went home after lunch mom cornered me.

"Something is wrong with her." I knew better than to argue with this. Madi and I had noticed, as well.

"She did get shot in the stomach. She's allowed to be cranky and off." Madi and I had also decided to give her some leeway, due to aformentioned bullet to the abdomen.

"It's not just that, but it started there. We need to keep an eye on her. She might be out of her depth."

And that was all she said. So I've been sitting here, playing with the photos I took last week, mulling over Bec and her possible need for supervision and intervention.

She is the closest thing I have to a sister. I hope her world is alright...outside of healing stomach wound, that is.

And now that I'm in a funk, I think nothing short of Ice Cream and Guitar Hero will get me out of it.


I'm so clever. And funny.

Here's what happened:

Monday, I get great idea all planned out in my head and hash it out with Hazmat and Crayon (we have *GOT* to find her a new name) who receive the following jobs:

Crayon - troll the web and find perky sound bites.
Hazmat - hack into the computer system and insert said sound bites.

Soundbites compiled and last night at some point after my Vicodin had kicked in and I was asleep, Hazmat completed the hacking.

This morning, the three of us and Mackenzie (to be sworn in eventually and then henceforth known as Smack) were riding down the elevator on our way out to do some boarding. Bec and I have our cameras and our walking implements (she's got an actual old-lady type walker) and Madi and Mackenzie have their boards.

Ground floor lights up, doors slide open and then a very chipper voice says "Thank you for choosing this door. Have a nice day!" We can't help it. We crack up. In the lobby. In front of a ton of people on their way to start their days.

We're laughing so hard that we just hobble over to the benches against the windows and sit. One of the security guards - Al - comes over and tells us that sometime around 5 this morning the doors stopped announcing the floor number and started complimenting shoes, wishing travelers to have a nice day, and a few others he hasn't quite understood.

"Do people like it or are they annoyed?" I had to ask.

"Oh, they seem to like it. They chuckle. One lady looked like the cat that caught the bird after her elevator told her she was having a particularly good hair day." Then one of his phones rang and he left us to observe.

And observe we did. We completely forgot about the skateboards and Bec and I started shooting people's reactions as they left their elevators. Mostly amused, a few confused, and one guy passed us muttering something about his hair looking exactly the same as it had every other day.

By lunchtime we were starving so we got back in the lifts and rode up to my apartment. Once we were sure mom wasn't home, we filled Mackenzie in on what we'd done.

"That's hilarious. Brilliant. You've spiced up the morning a little and no one got shot." Pointed look at me for that one. As though it were my fault what happened before. I leveled a glare at her and she backed off. Even Madi felt the tension in that one. "The only drawback I can see is the irritation for the people who have to listen all day. It'll get repetitive, won't it?"

"I found over 5,000 applicable sound bites in the public domain. They're all in there. And Madi's randomizer will actually earmark each one and not repeat the same bite until every bite has been used. There are some similar ones - the hair compliment, for example, but they have different wording and voices."

"And if they decide they don't like it?" Mackenzie asks the questions we asked when we laid out the plan, so we were at the ready with the answers.

"A simple system reset - the same one they do after a power outtage, and the program is erased completely. No traces. I even masked my IP and then bounced it all over so if they want to track me down it'll take a while."

"Given the nature of the prank, it's doubtful they'll even care. No one is complaining, so chances are it'll be left for a while and then erased." I was going for a completely innocuous yet amusing for everyone prank. I think I succeeded for our first time out. Well, second, technically. But first officially.

So we had lunch and filled Mackenzie in on the Society Tuesday. She's officially a "tap" (stole that term from Yale) and will remain a tap until we come up with two more taps and an initiation ceremony. And now we're having a Wii tournament. And It's my turn to box Mackenzie. Oh yeah. This'll be fun. Chick is going down.



So there's progress. Page One of the Debaucherous Escapades. I think that might be what it's called. I left the actual title page blank. Someone with better handwriting gets to take a crack at that.

We're also deep into our next little prank. No guns involved. I don't want to give it away because it's going to be greatness, but let me say that I planned it and Bec and Madi...wait Hazmat and Crayon (notice how that's in pencil?)...are actually executing it. Mostly because they've got skills I don't have.

We decided that our Society Names are being passed down to people who can fill the shoes of the positions we're in. So I need to find a little Pam to fill Lala's shoes. And Madi will find a Hazmat...

What that leaves us with is this:

Lala: leader (clearly), able to create things out of thin air. Read: able bullshitter. So far, that's what I've got.
Hazmat: Computer skills. We're talking coderxcore. Nothing short of genius. Also nice, but not required - complete and total badass.
Crayon: designer, architect, carpenter. She'll build it like you drew it...only better.

I have no idea what Smack is bringing to the table.

Wednesday. Action Item #1 goes into effect. Woot!


Video (almost) Killed the Gangsters

We did it. We’re all in. So now in private we refer to each other as Lala, Hazmat, and Crayon. I’m actually agreeing with Bec, though. Crayon is reading lame. Creature is also a play on her name (her initials are C.R.A.), Crater...Moon...moon pie...satellite...light...shining light...shine a light...Rolling Stones...moss...water...tree...north...compass...Moral Compass...moral support...questionable morals...morality...mortality...death...worm meat...meat pie...apple pie...vanilla ice cream...ice cream cone...creamsicle.

ok now I’m just hungry.

We did agree that we would leave her name as temporary at least until she’s off the meds. So she’s still Bec. We didn’t do any kind of ceremony or ritual, mostly because I couldn’t think of any. I’m still on meds myself, you know. Tomorrow Madi is bringing me a blank book and I’m going to make the inaugural entry. I get the honor since this whole thing was my idea. Looking forward to that.

And now we’re watching the D-Town Molls video. Which also definitely needs a new name. Cecily didn’t lie, though. She’s edited it to look like something the 3 Stooges and David Fincher would have made, had they ever collaborated. And yes, there are kick-ass shadows.

We look like gen-you-wine gangster girls - all marcel waves and fringe and pearls. Lars looks very dapper, a thought I remember having at the time. Madi is hamming it up the bit that she’s on camera.

“Well, there’s been a psoriasis scare among the potato crops and so we’re going to secure some bouillon. That way we can still make the gin we need to attract the jazz we like and good times can be had by all!” Madi actually leaned out of the window and swung her fist in front of her as she said this. Not in a “You kids get off my lawn way” but in a “that’s just dandy, cowboy” way. It’s hard to explain but you know what I mean.

Camera pans up over car and zooms in on the three of us stalking up the stairs to the entrance like we’re the Monkees.

More running around like crazy, waving our Tommy Guns in the air...I yelled something about Jim Carrrey and then the security guys come out.

“Hey, I remember hamming up at the door for the camera!” I say in real life, not the movie. Because I do.

“Yeah, we cut it because she was closing in on Madi’s reaction to the security. And you looked like a deranged elf.” This is Lars’s response. Thanks. Eye roll.

Back to the movie: “Cheese it, the cops!” Yells Madi...then she looks directly at the camera and in what we know to be a VERY eerie prescience, deadpans: “I hope they don’t kill the fun.”

Pan back up and there I am, all up in the grill of one of the officers, affecting a very nasal voice telling him not to get his knickers twisted, doesn’t he know a fake gun when he sees one? As I go to bend it, guard #2 whips out his gun and I’m down.

She zooms out to full frame and lets it roll. In the foreground, Madi shrinks down in the car. I don’t blame her at all. Lars darts over to me, Bec at his heels and then she crumples. Chaos. This is total chaos. He starts to run towards Cecily and then he goes down.

Sirens to the right of the camera and it fades to black.

“We so need a sequel.” Says Bec, who did have top billing. The rest of us sit in silence for a moment. I can’t help but stare at my casted leg. This blows.

“No more guns. Not even fake ones. Not even water guns. People are too twitchy.” The room is nodding at me.

Don’t worry, gentle reader. I’ve got prank #2 all planned out. Just you wait. It’ll start rolling tomorrow and be in effect by Wednesday at the latest. I am a genius.

And now I’m a genius who is going to stop blogging and watch Reservoir Dogs.


Lovin' the Fish Eye

Those pictures I got the other day (and yesterday and this morning) are sooo bitchin. There aren't words.

Also bitchin? Bec comes home tomorrow. She's being released right after lunch. We're going to have a little party for her in her apartment. Nothing too tiring, just Me, Madi, and Lars. He's picking up a bunch of old movies that she loves and I'm bringing Slurpees from the 7-11 in our building. We'll order in whatever she wants to eat and spend the night teasing her. It'll be great.

OH - this reminds me. The one movie that we're going to watch first to make sure she's awake for? Our premiere film: D-town Molls. It's not the best name, I know, but it's the working title. And before Lars gets there, we three girls are going to initiate ourselves. There aren't words for how excited I am.

I'm also dragging the laptop up there (so glad the camera bag has a sleeve for the laptop) so I can blog our reactions while we watch the movie. This is for posterity. I'm going to tell them it's for the history of Society Tuesday. Because all Secret Societies have places where they keep their information. Books with locks hidden in the bust of some dead guy. Statue bust, not torso bust. Don't be gross.

Also, according to the physical therapist, I'll have graduated from Crutches to cane by the middle of next week. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.


Society Tuesday

Check. Yay! Society Tuesday. We are the Tuesdays. And I've had that Boomtown Rats song in my head every since we chose it. You know the one about the robot housekeeper who shorts out and kills her family? Right. That one. At least, I think that's what it's about.

So yesterday, Madi and I are on our way out of the lobby when who should arrive but H.B. herself.
"Hey. Where are you guys going?" She asks, eyeing Madi's board with what might have been lust.
"Fair park. Awesome tricking out there if you can get past the guards." Madi has no sense of discretion. I was on crutches with my camera bag on my back so it was fairly obvious what my goal was.
"I've never skated boarded before. Is it fun?" She actually says it like it's two words.
"First off," I say - perhaps a little snarkily, "it's not skateboarding. It's skating." I smile. "Of course it's fun."
"Do you think it's the same principle as surfing?"
"Of course it is. The first great skaters were actually surfers. The kids out of Dogtown. There's a great documentary you should watch." And then I caved. We all saw it coming. As the words were coming out of my mouth two things happened. First, Madi looked positively rapturous and second I was instantly regretting them. Yet still they came. "My board is upstairs and I'm obviously not going to use it. Let's go up and get it and you can come with us."

Bam. Damage done. On the plus side, though, Mackenzie is really cool and I think I made a new friend. I know I took some really great shots - her form is totally wicked.

We ended up spending most of the morning out there and then came back up to my apartment for lunch...where we found Every Single Toilet had been ripped out and was in the process of being replaced with "dual flush" toilets. You know the kind: push button A for Number One and button B for Number Two. I'm not averse to it...I just wish she'd done one toilet at a time because three girls who've been outside chugging water all morning found themselves headed back down to the lobby...

In the elevator on the ride up, Mackenzie speaks up.
"Pam, what does your mom do?" I can't wait until she gets to call me Lala. But not until Bec, Madi, and I are all properly initiated.
"Yoga instructor."
"Yeah? Cool." She pauses. Madi looks at me and cocks an eyebrow. I pretend not to notice. And then Mackenzie asks: "What else does she do?" I cock my head at her. She continues: "Yoga students don't generally pay in cash." What I was so accustomed to seeing that I failed to notice she had noticed straight off.
"They do if they're having a private lesson in their home." Not, technically, a lie. And no - my mom isn't a prostitute. She doesn't do anything that would prove unfaithful to my father. Trust me - they're too in love for that sort of thing. It's nauseating sometimes.
"Ah. What does your father do?"
"Freelance photo journalist. He also has a blog for the Observer of which the primary focus is the every day life in downtown. I'll email you the link. It's pretty cool."
"I second that. Her dad gets some amazing shots. It's like he's the town's social archivist and he takes it very seriously. All of the photos in Pam's room - and mine and Bec's come to think of it - he took or Pam took." Madi held the elevator door so it wouldn't close on me. Then she skipped ahead and opened the apartment door.
"Aren't you a photographer?" Mackenzie asked Madi this and as I passed I gave Madi a look of gratitude for changing the subject.
"I have the knowledge, yes. But I much prefer the computer side of the images - manipulation and editing. I can do anything that needs doing to a photograph. So I let Pam get the great shots and when needed for legitimate publishing like the yearbook or the paper I leave them alone. She's got a great eye and can crop in camera in a way that you wouldn't believe. She can also reliably edit her own photos. But every now and again I take a session and jack it up in the most psychedelic ways. She's got a collage in her room I'll show you. Lots of before and afters. I think I made us all robots...?" I nodded affirmation and then stopped short. Stopping short on crutches is never recommended, but then I didn't expect Cecily to be draped over our couch like Daisy Buchanan in August.

"Hi, ladies. Want to watch a movie?" So we did. And I'll tell you all about it later, as it is now time for more pain medication and physical therapy.


This Is Not Encouragement

“A Secret Society?” This was Bec from her hospital bed. Madi and I went to visit her today and laid out the plan for her. She was understandably skeptical. She was even more skeptical when we told her what her society name would be: “CRAYON? As in coloring-book crayons?”

“It’s a derivation of your name, and not something that can easily be traced back. Pam is Lala, Mack is Smack, and I’m Hazmat. They’re not supposed to make a lot of sense.” Madi was so smooth, Bec just smiled at her. Ok, Madi is smooth or her morphine kicked in. It’s hard to tell.

“We’ve got two more members to recruit and then we’ll be set. I’ll pick one and you’ll pick one and then in the spring next year we’ll pick the juniors who will succeed us.” I petted her head while I told her the entire plan. I knew I’d have to write it all down for her, anyway.

I didn’t want to, but a bit of my obsessive-compulsive side kicked in and I noticed she hit her morphine button four times in the two hours we were there. It makes me sad that my bff is in so much pain. The morphine did add some interesting options to our Secret Society Name list.

We have:

1) The Icy Black Hand of Death: Bec’s input, a Calvin and Hobbes reference. Cute, but not easy to shorten and what do we call ourselves? Death-eaters? Hello, copyright infringement.

2) The Plaid Skirt Society: funny because we do wear the plaid skirts. Not funny because we do wear the plaid skirts. And then there’s the issue of what to call ourselves. Skirts? 1940 wants their slang back.

3) Society Silence: this one came from me. I like it; it sounds like we should be opening for Coldplay, though, so it might not win. And we’d call ourselves the Silencers....which I do actually like.

4) Society of the Laced Zebra....ok, the comment above about opening for Coldplay struck a chord with Bec and she recommended that we Google “Band Name Generator” and stick in the word “society” so we did and we got Society of the Laced Zebra. So we’d be Zebras.

5) and Society Tuesday...we could have our meetings on Tuesdays. Since everyone hates Mondays.

6) Doped Society And The Fighting Cloud...but then we’d be dopers...and No.

7)Society Organization....or the Redundants!

8) Atomic Society Of The Blistered Misfit. Ouch. Says Madi: “That’s soooo nuclear.” Points for timeliness.

9) Society Puppet And The Cosmic Tv....eh?

10) Cracked Society...feels right, but we’d be the crackheads and again...No.

Now that word is starting to look wrong. We narrowed it down to numbers 3, 4, 5, and 7. We decided to sleep on it and make a decision tomorrow.

Bonus: I did, in fact, have a fish-eye lens waiting for me at home. Apparently my stupidity and antics are rewarded by my parents these days. “This is not encouragement,” said my mom. I said it wasn’t a deterrent, either. And at the very least I could now document Madi’s crazy air in a new and fun way. With the fish-eye. And I got some great shots today. I told Bec that when she gets back out we’ll paper her wall with amazing photos. I can’t wait.

We ran into Mackenzie on our way out of the building to see Bec. We waved but didn’t invite her, even though she was making that puppy-dog face. Ok, Madi waved, I nodded. It’s hard to wave when you’re on crutches.

Time to retire. Tomorrow Madi’s going to drive us into Fair park and I’m going to play with my new lens while she skates around. It’s going to get hot so we’ve got to get out there early when there’s light but not so much heat. Stupid Texas sun. It’s like living under a broiler.



Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent

Finally. Sleep. Minimal disturbances + pain killers = sleep. And lots of it. I think I passed out around 7 Friday (after my early-bird dinner) and didn't wake up for longer than a few minutes until about ten this morning. It was blissful.

Madi brought lunch to me today, which was sweet. Also a couple of movies that we've seen a hundred times but still keep watching. Chief among them: Fight Club. She brought Mackenzie, too. Normally I would have not acknowledge the interloper at all, but she'd never seen Fight Club, which is a grave transgression in my book. So I let her stay and we indoctrinated her. She doesn't suck as badly as I thought she did. Notice that I haven't called her Hawaiian Barbie, yet?

Luckily, she had to leave fairly soon after the movie finished. It's Father's day and she has obligations. Madi, whose father is mostly absentee, got to hang around. She's helping my mom do something heavenly with blueberries and puff pastry right now. We chatted for a bit about the Secret Society and decided the following:

1) It will not be a "secret" that we have so much as a mission: To Rid the World of Boredom and Suckiness. Obviously this mission statement needs to be prettied up. But maybe not, it's got a ring to it.

2) Our "secret names" will be some variation of our given names. Example: she let it slip that Mackenzie's last name is Sapphire. I'm not kidding. Mackenzie Sapphire?!?!?!?! It sounds like a freaking stripper name. Your middle name and the name of your first pet. So, on the roster in the book she'd be listed as "Inaugural member #1: S., Mack. Smack." We shall call her Smack. It giggles me. So then I'm listed as "Founding President, Creator: R., Pam." Rpam isn't a word. Nor is it funny, but LaLa seems to fit with the theme we started. Have to brainstorm for the rest.

That was as far as we got. But I think she's crashing here tonight, so between the Vicodin and the sugar I'm sure we'll come up with the gems.



Movin' On Up

Or out, as the case may be. Apparently my sheer determination to not suck at physical therapy and probably some palm-greasing on the part of my mother has led to my early release. No driving, and I've got an oh-so-aging walker that I'm required to use when not just moving around the loft (it was that or wheelchair) and a cane for inside. I've also got a metal-detector alerting rod in my leg. Did I mention that the bullet shattered the bone? I bet my x-rays look like the terminator. Or a Cylon's.

The sad irony here, is that today is Bec's birthday. She turns 16 in a ward one-step down from an ICU. We had breakfast. She cried when I told her that I was leaving. I promised to come back and visit.

So I leave after lunch. I have days and days of at-home therapy, doses of vicodin, and summer movies on the couch.

I have researched the secret societies more. Wikipedia is my friend. I've found that for the most part they're collegiate and all-male. They also have names that bring to mind death, decaying, graces, pain, or some other slightly ominous occurrence that I haven't thought of. The majority have also been around for the better part of a century...or two or three in some cases. Starting one is outlined in many, many google hits. There is some recommended reading (The Prince, ironically on my summer reading list, and The Art Of War) someone suggested silly hats (I think this was inspired by Thomas Jefferson and his Flat Hat Society) and then there's a lot of speculation on the parts of everyone involved on these forums. Most people view them as glorified cliques, which is true, but not what I'm going for. I want social commentary and, ultimately, change. Not to mention the creation of crazy-helpful connections for when we embark into the real world. Or at least when we apply to college.

So - #1 - We're not collegiate, but we're college prep and we're in a fairly exclusive school. Our connections start there.

#2 - We're not going to be male. Clearly. We're going to be female. And I think 6 is a good number. Obviously myself, Bec, and Madi. Then each of us will find one more person to recruit and they'll be the non-officers. As creator, I get to be president. Bec and Madi will be VPs. And I think that when we pass the torch we'll just maintain that hierarchy. I should really make these first rules all official looking, but I want to wait until we can meet with Bec and the three of us flesh it out. It'll be tricky to get Madi away from Hawaiian Barbie for this. I have a feeling she'll be the person Madi wants to recruit. Which means I'll have to stop referring to her as Hawaiian Barbie.

#3 - We'll need a name and a "secret". It cracks me up that in every single hit my search provided me with some moron felt the need to state the obvious. "Question: How to Start A Secret Society? Answer: First you need a secret." It's so much more complex than that. A secret. Anyone can have a secret. A society needs a mission. So we need a name and a secret mission.

#4 - I actually think the first three cover it for now.

And here's lunch...followed by brief review of my Rules For Being Able To Go Home.....finally.


I Have a Plan so Cunning You Could Pin a Tail on it and Call it a Weasle.

Two words: Secret. Society. Like Skull and Bones but significantly less creepy. And more fun. There's isn't one at our school that I know of and we'll be juniors in the fall so there's two years for us to set it up. We'll spend the summer and the first semester laying the ground work and the second semester recruiting fresh blood and then next year we'll solidify our "presence." Apparently the key is to make it known that you exist but to have 99% of the information a total secret and to neither confirm nor deny that you are aware of its existence or that you may or may not be a member.

Like Fight Club. With less blood. First we need a name....

Ok, see this is why I've made up fake names for everyone involved in my life. And I'm trying not to be too specific because when more hi-jinks ensue I want to be able to talk about them freely and protect the innocent. Or not-so-innocent as they case may be.

Had rehab this morning. Who knew learning to walk was such a chore? But apparently I'm doing well and I should be out of here soon. One can only hope.

Back to secret society...name, and a mission statement. And connections. They've all got connections.

I love starting at the ground level and building something awesome. And this awesome will lead to world domination. Word.


Shoot Me Now

My mom went to the Cure concert last night. I was supposed to go, but since I'm laid up in the hospital still (yay, infection in my incision) all I got was a t-shirt. She took Madi and Hawaiian Barbie instead. Faaaaaahhhhbbuuuuulllllooooouuuuuuussssssssssss. They had killer seats (platinum box, center stage) and she greased some palms for a very professional looking camera to get past security and so I've been watching decent footage all day. Still. Made me a little sad.

Didn't help that Madi brought Miss Hair and Butt when she brought the dvd. She said it's the raw one and they're going to use some new program and splice it all together so it's virtually seamless and then she's going to give it to some guy they met to give to Robert Smith "himself" and see if she can get a gig traveling with them and filming their summer shows. I didn't want to be a total buzz kill, but I can't help thinking it's Too Late. In the season. In the tour. Maybe she can do a documentary, but isn't that Cecily's thing?

These drugs are making me cranky. My incision itches. I'm sick sick sick of this hotel room. I have a stupid bullet wound. Shouldn't I be home by now? It's been forever. OK, so on Monday I get moved to rehab, which is a step and a half away from home. Bonus. And Bec is still laid up...

Oh! I got the privilege of being wheeled into her room today. Before Madi brought the dvd so I couldn't tell her all about that stellar plan. We just chatted a little bit. I did tell her about Cecily's dvd plan and she's all about seeing that. She wants top billing. I told her I had no problems and it would probably read something like "Rebecca X starring in a film by Cecily Z...also featuring the rest of us poor slobs!" And with a disclaimer that any and all violence actually occurred. Word.

I'm coming to terms with my wound. I'm tempted to tell people it was a drive-by, because it doesn't feel like that far of a stretch. Except that it got a write up in the paper and everyone knows that it was downtown and not Pleasant Grove so they'd never believe drive-by. I'll just have to watch the dvd so I can add appropriate embellishments. Also it might jog my memory so that I remember something other than the MythBusters marathon I just numbed my brain with today. Tomorrow I think there's a Law&Order marathon. Stellar.

My mom just left and told me about how she and dad finally enacted their grand scheme to give our cats a little bit of the outdoors. She's a total hippie (if a descendant of Irish Royalty can be a hippie) and she has guilt that our cats are having their natural hunter instinct suppressed by the four walls, roof, floor-to-ceiling view of multiple birds, occasional fly, a plethora of cat toys and free food that she offers them. So she bought them harnesses - pink for Asha and black for Idget - and matching leashes and she and dad walked them down to the courtyard today. She gave me pictures. I think they'll be happy when I'm home because then there will be someone sane to blow bubbles at them and give them catnip.

Behold: Kitty Apocalypse:

Oh goodie. More nurses. Lates.


A Little To Report

I feel like I can’t form complete sentences. Lots of totally effective drugs. Luckily I’ve been reading brainless drivel and watching brainless drivel. Yay for tv.

Not resting. No rest for the injured. I get vitals checked every couple of hours, which requires waking up. Have I sung the praises of many many channels? Hospitals suck.


Lars. Good. Released. He’s recovering the rest of the way at home. No impact sports for him anytime soon. And no skating. I would say that sucks for him, because I know it does...but who knows when I’ll be back on my board again. At least I can take photos. I’ve hinted at gear I’d like to see in my camera bag so maybe I’ll have a nice welcome home gift when I get released. Fish-eye lens, anyone?

Bec had loads of surgeries on her agenda. She’s going to have a gnarly scar when it’s all over with. At least we’ll have good stories. “Remember that time we were gangsters? And real gangsters, not that “Wish I was a Thug” shit. We were Gangsters With Tommy Guns and Pearls.” You’re tough if you’ve got a possie and a gun and you inspire people to action. You’re a total badass if you do it in pearls and heels. Like Donna Reed....armed.

We just won’t mention that the guns were rubber. Because that takes away from the coolness. And apparently they look real on film.

Ok - tip. If you ever have a coke float (or a root beer float) you should drink it quickly. Because if you let it sit then the soda turns white and it’s just not appealing. Also you get more ice cream than soda because the soda bubbles up into the ice cream and gets lost. It’s sad. Sad soda...

Madi came by with Hawaiian Barbie earlier. Apparently they’re hanging out. I would feel jealous but I think the morphine affects that, too. Also Madi spends a lot of time either on the phone with me, sitting with me or with Rebecca, or preparing for sitting. I’ve never gotten so many baked goods. Hawaiian Barbie helps her with that, so they’re spending time together bonding and shit...but the whole time it’s like I’m there anyway. And they told me funny stories today. And brought me books. She’s not so bad once you get past the Surf Goddess look and the general threat to our balance that she poses. I should probably start calling her Mackenzie. I will never call her Mac. I try to stay away from nicknames that remind me of food. Mostly because it makes me hungry.

Oh. I’ve decided that I’m going to become a criminal mastermind a la Artemis Fowl. Except less evil and fairies.

And the people with needles have just walked into my room again.