Puking

Food poisoning is truly funny in the AZ.  The was a moment on Sunday night when I was pissed because I had spent more time that weekend with/in my Loo than I had with my guy (that fine Matt had been gone the weekend was a point lost on me, I was still pisssed)  Thinking that time spent equaled feeling better, I was lulled into a false sense of security and attempted to fall asleep by crawling under my PC Sleeping Bag, and coverlet of gold.  10 min later all my ninja skills were called into action as I rocked forth from my bed and over the booby trap I had unwittingly set for myself. (said trap consists of the following: a space heater and mobile on a chair 2 inches from my bed, the appropriate cords are strategically placed across my path and connect to a power strip who’s cord is cunningly placed across the path to my bedroom door, if you know me at all, anything in my path that’s smaller than an adult Rhino is hazardous) So I leapt and made it to my plastic bag in time to catch the rubbish.  Concluding that massive continuous amounts of projectile vomit were not an indication of stellar health, I phoned the wonderful doctor on staff. Our conversation was the following:

Doc:  Hello, Colleen?

Me: Hi

Doc: What is the matter, what can I help with?

Me:  Uhh, mmmm, I uhhh  {puking and phone dropping simultaneously}

Eventually, I was able to converse in a normal manner with the Doctor:

Doc: Hi, are you OK?

Me: (Summoning what was left of my dry humor)  ‘Well, I’m curled up in a ball on my floor puking at midnight and shaking so bad my muscles hurt, I think there are 400 pins being pushed into my stomach region and I’m running out of places and things to pour rubbish into.  No I don’t think I’m OK’.

  Disgruntled Rooster

I was tempted to say disgruntled C—k.   Most nights around 12ish midnight there is a woefully confused rooster who goes off for 15-20 min.  I‘m sure somewhere in the world that its 5 am and the sun is rising (prolly a warm country that has sun?) but not in AZ.  One night I had fallen asleep around 9pm only to hear the damm bird go off at 12am, causing me to haul arse out of bed, and stand in the middle of my room while I tried to figure out what the bloody hell was wrong with me that I had responded to the wretched screeching of a 2 legged, pea brained, feathered covered foul 6 coops away.  I hate chickens.

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best part of waking up…

November 28, 2007

…is 3 boxes at the poct and now having a chunk of MN Sandstone in my room. 🙂

*thank you*

there was much rejoicing when i received a letter with black & white pictures AND  sand from the only beach worth going to in MN.

This sets the bar ninjas. What can you send me from |Aussie land Siolo? and from London town DS? and from the frozen Midwest Brian? -that tops THE BEACH?! 

Squats

Realized today that something is dreadfully wrong with me/life/AZ/sanitation now/sanitation then/ bricks/proper hygiene., when I have a weak tolerance for filthy squat toilets, and would rather walk through 18th Century Sewers with falls of nasty rubbish then actually clean my own squat.

A Bear

The lot of us were at a certain place chatting up certain people. There was a bear, in a cage, the floor covered in trash that people had thrown in. I tried not to look, but when I did, the bear was in a corner, biting his own arm and banging his head against the bars.

Worms

On accident I ate worms. I realized my dreadful mistake when I glanced down at the dish, after having a vague thought that the walnuts tasted funny, (but they were already half way down to my stomach, so what the hell) and saw one lone squirming survivor of my nasty feast. I panicked. The next 30 min were spent in tears, in my loo, desperately trying to puke. My body pathetically refused to comply. I’d like to announce that I’m in the market for a new digestive tract.

A Rat

My rat, Mr. Burns, finally made a daylight appearance. He is the size of a cat, but not cute and gave me a cheeky look before he scrambled into my bedroom wall. His favorite annoying habit is to crawl into the wall behind my bed, near my head and gnaw on pieces of rubbish. Strangely enough this causes my dreams to either start or end with a sound equivalent to nails on a chalk board.

Peace Corps Med Refills

 Included in my refill is anti-blemish cream that is lime green and smells like baby barf; the package is in Russian (which I cannot read) so I really have no idea what substance (or combination of substances) can be both green and smelly and supposedly make me lovely. Never scared, I dabbed a bit on my face and waited…nothing happened. I was truly hoping that green goop would, at the very least produce something noteworthy (alien life forms in my epidermis, loss of all thigh chub, supermodel legs, a perma-tan), alas it seems that tho its color and smell recommend it for greater things, it is simply anti-blemish cream. (As far as I know, in the states you don’t find hemorrhoid cream in neon orange, eh?)

Passport photos

I hate getting my picture taken. Even more annoying was picking up my passport photos today and seeing that there was a red string on the lenses; which means that I have a red string hanging strategically off my chin. This did not make me happy.

Photography

On the up side the gent (60+ with white hair and a nice set of gold grills) who runs the shop collects old camera parts (drool), loves photography, plays speed chess and nearly cried with joy when I talked with him about manual cameras. We ended our conversation with us both agreeing that digital cameras are bad (well more truthfully, I’m just jealous of the digital cams Mr.X, Ds, and Silker own; but I really don’t know how to say that in Azri) and that I need to visit again. This made me very happy.

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