Bestest Weekend Ever!

Friday:
Take exam. Survive English. Get free food at ENGR. Go to the knee doctor in Bethesda.

So I hafta wear these blue, hospital gown type shorts. They are unisex, obviously, and have ample crotchular room. My mom watches me amuse myself for about 3 minutes pretending to have a boner. We discuss my lack of sexual maturity and how she sometimes snorts when she laughs too hard. The X-ray doode starts picking on me right away because I choose to walk around the office without shoes on. We engage in friendly conversation until I lay down on the X-ray table and he adjusts my legs, commenting on how I could use a shave. I return the favor by making fun of his ear hair. We giggle and he sends me back to my mum, who by now has folded up my ripped jeans in a manner that the Doc can't see the holes.

Doc comes in. Doc is young. Doc is hot. He picks up on my vibes right away and starts making fun of my "funny" knee caps. He explains how being interesting is a plus, but having an interesting medical situation is a huge minus. Thanx, Doc. So he lays me down and starts fucking around with my knee. He then sits down and starts talking to me about my knees and my past problems with dislocating them. As to not be rude, I sit back up on the table thingy. No later than 10 seconds after I sit up, he instructs me to lay back down and starts feeling my leg muscles to see how much physical therapy I'm going to need. Then he sits back down, and I sit up. We go through this routine two more times, my mother giggling and snorting more each time. By now, my face is a pubescent-acne-pink, and my shorts are becoming a little tighter due to my imaginary boner.

We discuss my options and possible issues with surgery. Doc states that I am an "obviously active girl," with "ample leg muscles," but feels that I should do 60 leg lifts a day. Now I hafta lay back down again so he can properly instruct me on how to do these lifts. I hafta lie flat and bend one knee to stabilize. Then I hafta tense my whole leg and lift it slowly to a 45 degree angle, hold it there for ten seconds, and then slowly lower it. Then I hafta relax my leg for ten seconds and then repeat. Sixty of these things a day. That's going to take me over 20 minutes. A day. After number 20, Doc says it's going to taste like burning. I try to negotiate with him, using the valid argument that I already have thunder thighs, and would rather he give me a target work out for my abs. Doc is not convinced, but gives me a quick up-down to see if there were any other areas I might need to work on.

Doc explains to my mum that he'd rather me deal with the occasional pop-out with minimal pain, then a 3-month long, painful surgery that may only lead to early arthritis. He says that I need to come in 6 weeks from now so he can check my progress and see if there is any other issue. Shit. It's like a hot personal trainer only worse. This one has a stethoscope.
Doc slips out and two med students come in to fit me for my very own, fancy-shmancy knee brace. Mum hints from behind them that she thinks the one on the left is attractive... and so naturally, I kick him in the shin while he tries to adjust the straps on my brace.
Smooth.
After another snort, a $20 co-pay and a moral dilemma over keeping or throwing away the shorts, mum and I exit the office.

Then I meet my brother back in College Park. Give him tour, go Quiznos, play Twisted Metal Black, shmooze about his painting and in general, enjoy Michael's company. Love. That boy.

Then fart around with roommates (literally in Danny's case) and head over to 8709 for a toga party. Didn't stay long, or really dig the scene, but saw and hugged Alley so all was worth it. Did I mention Danny's gaseous explosions? Ok, good. Then home for staple pj pants, tank top and 10 Things I Hate About You.

Saturday:
So I sleep until 1pm. Take heavenly shower and put on my staple grey sweat pants. Roll out with Dawnie Bears for some partay shopping at Target and a burfday burrito.

We ran into a parade. In the Ghetto Mall parking lot. I'm not kidding. A parade. Right in front of Target. "Only in PG county," states burfday girl.

Head to G'burg for burfday dinner wif brother and parents. Oh, sweet geezus I ate well. Good thing too, because it helped me drink like a fish later in the evening.

Ok. Let's get to the party. Can I just say... I had the most wonderful time. Cleavage... gorgeous hair... African Hip Hop... The Wheel of Passion... awesome new people... the "We Hate Boys" beer pong game... shot after shot after shot...

I mean, don't get me wrong... there was drama. A shit load of it. To quote an old friend of mine "a cubic shitload." But you know what?!?!

None of it was mine!!!!!

I KNOW!! HOW INSANE IS THAT?!

I just hope that Dawn knows, deep down, how wonderful she is and that anyone who could diss her like that is not worthy of her tears. She had one hell of a party. Everyone had fun. And she has so many wonderful, caring people who love her... it was wonderful just to be a part of that. I owe her big for pulling off the party that I couldn't. She is truly a goddess.

Sunday:
Slept till 12:30 in Dawn's gargantuanly delicious bed. Retreated back to 2020, only to shower, glow and go see Harry Potter again wif Brandon. We got into it about motivation and ambition. Silly how different things are now. Then had dinner party with Kinya and gracious host, Tina. Excellent food and superb conversation.

Didn't think about any of my drama until I got home and talked with one of my roommates a little bit about depression and family issues. Funny how things can revamp all of your priorities and truly change your entire outlook on life. I wish he (and I) the best of luck.

Then had juicy conversation with rock star, Jason. He is the most wonderful boy in the world. Hands down. Cute, silly and just pure yummy-slacker-goodness. We are making music tomorrow night (er, tonight). I cannot wait to sing with him.

And on that note, you assholes, consider yourself fuckin blogged.