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Can we start celebrating Valentine's Day now?

One Hen Does Not Make A Hen House

I'm so dramatic.

It is true that my partner is now moved on, the art buyer had surgery today, my creative director was out sick and for some odd reason, the office manager split and just left the main line ringing. In between trying to concept on four different clients, I had to go answer the phone, negotiate with Brazilians for an estimate that they think is "Terminator 4" and handle my freelance assignments while the producer frolics with tigers in India.

So if I shout out to the office to pipe down as they stand around my desk exchanging memories of holiday parties past, forgive me. Not that I don't love the busy work and the chance to do something I don't usually do but enough already, peeps.

Now for some new recommends on the Podcast front: Studio 360 is amazing. I've fallen off of listening to my meditation Podcasts choosing instead to read the paper which is more stress. I feel for the victims I read about and the violators too. I mean what events have to happen for someone to grab a gun and maul down Mary Lou and her mama shopping for ties at Penny's?

Got into IFC's podcast series, "Getting Away with Murder". Cute, well shot, poorly acted. Curiously amazing cars for such a low budget affair.

Rainbows and kittens.

Looking forward to the trip down south for the holidays. Which is stress too, really. I have pastoral visions of crickets chirping and porch swings in total relaxation alas it's more like relatives that judge and friends too jealous to act interested in your life. So I made some mix CDs to listen to as we cart ourselves all over North Georgia.

Cup cakes and cubs.

When a Fellow in Feather Flies the Coop

News from the Coop.

Yesterday it was finalized. My art director is moving on to another agency. It's an agency where I feel I probably wouldn't have done well with my personality. But I think he'll do fine. It's sad to see him go....first. I thought maybe I would be the one but alas, I'm still on a hook wondering if I'm being reeled in or not. Desperation in my boss's eyes this morning. Yet, I feel he was hinting around that it may have been my fault Roger is leaving. Uh, believe what you want dude.

Finished a book: "Eat, Pray, Love". It was profoundly good.

Found that podcasts are really cool. They're free and I enjoy playing them on the subway. Cuts the 1 hr ride in 1/2, I swear.

New Podcasts are:
News from Lake Wobegon, a slice from each week's Prarie Home Companion - 4 stars
Learning to Meditate - 2.5 stars (the Australian accent makes me less meditative, more hungry for shrimp and steak
This American Life - 4 stars (there is also the show you can purchase, but the audio shows from NPR are free)

Keep getting Georgia hints. I believe that Georgia is calling me home. Weird. Yesterday morning on the commute in there was a woman wearing a Georgia sweatshirt. She and I spoke briefly. Later that afternoon "Georgia on My Mind" came on the office radio. I blurted out, "I know! I'm coming!" Sheesh, the tickets are bought. Not like I'm putting anything off.

Interesting dreams last night. Had an idea dream. The idea was called The Princess and the Pea Idea. In Big Guy's documentary film, I was testing him for the camera. I hid something in the house that was testing his "powers". In my dream I expressed that it was a shame I didn't have the bad voodoo mask from the Brady's trip to Hawaii, but that I would make do. This morning I woke up Big Guy and told him the idea. I don't know that it took.

ah well.

The Gospel According to Drained Blood/No Avian Flu

Got the follow-up call from Dr. Martin today.

He ran down the blood work...liver good, kidneys good, iron good, cell count good.

"You're totally normal."

"Hells yeah, Dr. Martin! I knew I was normal!"

He chuckles. "Well, on paper you are."

I asked about the cholesterol. My LDLs are 89... I looked up the optimal level for the bad cholesterol and 100 is king.

Dr says your diet is perfect, don't change a thing.

Good thing they don't check for caffeine levels. Then I would have gotten a lecture.

So that's the saga of the ordeal of the escapade through the dealings of drawing my blood.

Bleeding the Chicken or Why I'll Never Do Heroine

They tapped me today. I was naked, scared, shivering from fear. I had support but even He couldn't stop the inevitable stabbing and sucking and ripping of a piece of my soul.

I went to get a physical today. Pretty stratightforward: blood pressure, reflexes, eyes, ears, swallowing (?). I showed Dr. Martin my excema, he said yep. I conjured a harrowing tale of fire fighters busting into the building next door to discover that the building was seeped in carbon monoxide and I sure had a headache the other day and shouldn't we do a blood gas to be sure?

He asked of my parents ailments. I spoke of the colonoscopy and angioplasty and granpa's five heart attacks. He took my blood pressure. It was excellent. He's just trying to distract me from the horror film that starts in five.

There were no pictures on which I could gaze. My attention lept around the room hoping to land on something soothing. Left alone to get naked, I paced the cage, found an almost full biohazard can of bloody tubing and syringes. Oh God, Oh God should I be breathing this? Will mine go in there with all those other anonymous goos and Oh God, will a piece of my soul be tangled forever with Fred the Delivery Guy who raped his fourth grade teacher!

Calm it down Chicken Head, don't loose it.

Breathe.
In.
Out.
Okay, that's bullshit. Where else can the eyes go to find distraction?

These black ice cream cone things are interesting...no they're not! Oh God.

No, no, look there's lube. That's funny. Lube. Right next to the latex gloves. Latex...some people are allergic to latex, like really bad allergic. Don't they use the alternati...knock on the door.

Oh God.

New nurse. Haven't seen this one. She has that look. That look says I heard you're a big baby and I'm here to treat you like the nursery citizen you are. Oh, don't give me that look lady. I'll just kick things around in here and really show you how it's done.
I chirp out, "my support system!"
"Your what?"
"He's in the chair out there!"

She walks out slamming the door. She didn't mean it but it reminded me of doing bad before in my life and triggered the ole pain body that was so near the surface anyway. Pain body. Sounds oddly sexual in a German, red light way.

Support walks in with look on face too. That's okay. He means well but I can't look directly into the look or my head will spontaneously pop off my shoulders.

Last thing said to doc before Nurse with Face came in, "let's just do this and not talk about it!" Doc, if I was rude, I'm sorry. I chuckled it off to trying to make it seem quirky and cool rather than obnoxious and freaked out.

So Support lays on the babying and I begin to violently shake. Stomach is whirring. Can't focus on anything in the room. Memories are burning. Time is bending. Space is shifting. Is this what dying feels like?

Lie down! Nurse with Face barks politely in fear that she'll have another dropper.

Yeah, that sounds good. Lying down is always better than I don't know jumping jacks, karate kicks, barrel rolling.

(Breath quickening as I relay.)

Support comes around to the head. Nurse with Face touches me!!! Ok, that's it! This is over!!! I'm out.

She coos out, I'm just touching you, there's nothing in my hand. Coo, coo.

Smell hightened, sight begins to go. Or maybe the eyes are closed. Can't think long enough to solve.

Nurse with Face opens drawers, closes drawers. She fixing the fix. Oh God!

She touches me again!!!

FEELING MASSIVELY SICK. MAY NEED TO BRING FLUID QUICKLY ONTO NURSE WITH FACE!

Oh God. Oh God.

(What did all this sound like outside the door? Cut to outside the door, muffled winnying.)

Okay, she says, just cleaning. She's touching me! My God people, she's touching me! Just cleaning.

TAKE A DEEP BREATH SHE SAYS! Pump your fist. I'll show her fist pumping.

And then something cold and painful bit me. And my toes began to collapse in on themselves. I click my feet together frantically. Now I look back and how Dorothy of me! I notice the feet slamming together. It's psychotic. I'm near to scream. Stiffling scream.

BREATHE OUT! I let go of breath.
DEEP BREATH! I suck in a small one not yet finished with the last.

Is this for real...there it goes, the soul is for sure running out my arm and my toes are desperately trying to get it to stay. It's a tug of war between the angry piercing thing and my toes. Toes pulling it back, piercing thing pulling it out. Back, out, back out, back out back out!!! I'm backing out!

Ok, we're done.

Poking a Timid, Feathered Head Out

A rant that's voluntarily read? Really?

Well okay.

Today I had a black forest ham sandwich on pumpernickel with a side salad of soy beans and cucumbers.

You still here?

Okay.

After that I went down to the Writer's Guild of America strike so that I might glimpse my idol, Tina Fey. Alas she wasn't there but it was damn exciting and I did get to see Amy Poehler. I may have stared slightly as she seemed afraid of me. Maybe it was my maniacle smiling. I feel for the plight of no back end points on DVD sales. Seems boring to the rest of the world, surely. But I get it. Someone in the crowd overheard me say the name of my agency's boss and misunderstood that it was a network. A coordinator came running over handing me a card asking me to join the cause. I saw in his face the let down when I explained that yes, I'm a writer, not for TV per se. Ah well. It was cool. Right up until I smelled the lady in front of Sax. I mean wild animals don't even smell like this. Why she was yelling the N word at the ambulance confused me. But I thought about the rest of her rant..."they don't take you to a real hospital!" Wow. Some ambulance must have taken her for a scary ride at some point. Then I felt sorry that she smelled so bad but I was delighted she chose the front door of Sax to call home.

Hmm, still here?

This does work.

Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and see if you read that too.