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Being uncoordinated can be fun!
Note: medical update is at bottom.
Central Park, New York City, Winter: The Skating Pond, 1862 by Currier and Ives. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Reader Emmawolf asked, “I love the concept of a favorite injury. Is this because the story behind it is your favorite?” That got me thinking about my favorite injuries… These are in no particular order.
That hip thing I mentioned. When I was growing up, I used to spend Christmas in Minneapolis with my all too active family. If I didn’t know better, I would think they were actively trying to kill me as many things they took me to do were things they did all the time but I did rarely. Case in point, cross country skiing. I would do it when I visited them but they did it daily. They would always want to do the hardest trails, when I asked about this Roger told me “at least this isn’t the MOST dangerous trail, just snow plow if you cannot stop.” The last hill of the day had a “most difficult” sign and was just before the parking lot. You cannot “snow plow” on ice or on a 45 degree angle. I wiped out to avoid crashing into an SUV.
We also did a lot of ice skating on ponds. They were great but being natural, they had divits in them and were not smooth at all. When I was about ten, I was skating on a pond and must have hit one but I went flying and landed on my hip. It hurt like crazy. I was sure I was bleeding. I played it off like I was fine (more embarrassed) and checked it when I got back to the house. The result was a bruise that remained totally black for more than a year. Years later, an xray would reveal that I had chipped my hip at some point. That’s the only time I hurt it so I am going with it happened that day when I was ten.
Why is it a favorite? First of all, I loved ice skating. I love all the sports I played with my family. I plan to teach a friend to play tennis for that very reason. Secondly, I was a total Tom boy and relished all my scrapes and bruises. It made me feel all tough that I never sought out medical help for this. And lastly, it reminds me of a time when I wasn’t the medical oddity that I have become. The main reason is number 1. I miss being that active. It inspires me to work towards being that active again.
My goofy injuries are just silly. I have a scar on my left knee that, combined with my knee surgery scars looks like :]. I got it in a crazy ping pong accident. Yeah, you read that right. A ping pong accident. Additionally, I have soldered my fingers together (twice), been knocked unconscious in wood shop class, dislocated my shoulder body surfing (was too focused on losing my bathing suit top to care) and just last night walked into a door going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. These make me laugh and remind me that life without whimsy is just not worth living. Best part of these is that none really hurt because I was laughing so hard. I was pretty good at shop class but whenever someone glued their fingers together, the teacher assumed it was me. For the record, it was my high school lab partner, not me, who got her melted goggles stuck to her head. I was the one who fell asleep in chem class and fell out of my desk but I never glued my goggles to my head. At least not in high school.
You think you’re getting my bag? Ok, you are but I am going to injure myself first! My right index finger is crooked because it was broken when I was struggling with a mugger to keep my bag. The strap broke and he took off. I took off after him and caught him. He threw some dirt at me (note: this means he had no weapon, I should have pounced). Bitch, stop following me! Me: But you have my bag! He then hit me with something, probably my own bag and I woke up in the street (concussion number 6?). I ran in the direction he had been going in to find a cop sitting in his car at the end of the street. When I told him what happened he said, are you sure you were attacked? PSA of this post, sarcasm does you no favors in this situation. I responded, No, I normally walk around with my face covered in dirt. It’s the latest fashion trend, straight from Paris and Milan. Seriously, he was not amused.
This reminds me that I do stand up for myself when I need to. And that I am an idiot. Never chase someone who just mugged you. There’s a time and place to be a hero, that isn’t it.
Medical update: I was hoping to have real news about the scans I had today but I don’t. I had MRIs and MRAs (magnetic resonance angiogram) done of my brain today. I hoped they would give me some information but they refused. I have to wait to talk to my doctor next week. Oh, and I know that headaches + seizures + vision problems + language issues can = brain cancer. I also know that this is really, really, really rare. I only mention that because of the number of times I have been asked, You don’t have a brain tumor do you? I sure hope not! I also really don’t think I do. If there is anything on my brain that should not be there, I should know early next week and will post something as soon as do.
PS. Thank you, social media. I have a tendency to keep to myself when I am upset about something and recent events have only made me want to do that more. I mean, who wants to be out and about while they are having seizures and trouble speaking? Not me. By opening up here, I have received some amazing support and it has inspired me to not give into my hermit instincts. That has made a huge difference. Thank you to everyone who has read my posts, responded to my tweets and generally made me feel a whole lot less alone and freaky. It has meant more to me than I ever will be able to tell you.
Because laughter is truly the best medicine…
I am getting back on stage!
This week, I will be all about NYC. The biggest show will be at the Eastville Comedy Club in New York City on Wednesday, October 24 at 8:30 pm. The tickets are free but reservations are required. Email reservations@eastvillecomedy.com. Please let me know if you can make it so I can get a sense of how many people I have coming.
If you are in Washington, DC, I will put my upcoming schedule up as soon as it is ready.
Hope to see you out somewhere!
Let’s all say it together: “Hook, line and sinker.”
Ok, today’s post was going to be about the book Machete Season but that all went out the window when I read this on the Daily Beast‘s Cheat Sheet:
Report: Edwards Used Prostitutes
New York City local news blog DNA Info reported Thursday that a prostitute affiliated with the so-called “Millionaire Madam” says she had sex with the former presidential candidate. A call girl working for Anna Gristina reportedly told investigators that she was paid to have sex with Edwards while he was in New York in 2007, raising money for his failed presidential bid. Lawyers for Edwards did not comment on the story, but records show that Edwards did stay at New York’s Loews Regency Hotel—which is also where he allegedly met Rielle Hunter.
Stories like this make me feel like my heart is being slowly ripped out my body through my nose. I wrote a joke about two years ago about this. I like to say that just when I think this story cannot possibly get any douchier, it does. This is why I cannot read the book Game Change. I don’t need or want any more information about this man. Now, the argument can be made that I can just skip those sections but I don’t have that level of discipline.
This is also one of the reasons I don’t get all inspired by anyone anymore. If I was bitter and jaded before (and I am sure I am, one of my interns once called me “gumbly” but I think that was also because I was one of the only people in the office not afraid of the Congressman we worked for and didn’t jump out of my skin every time he did something), I am now.
Trifecta of failure (in increasing order of disappointment): the Kerry/Edwards campaign, the NY Mets (jacket) and John Edwards. When you are upset about three things and the least upsetting is a failed White House bid, well, that should say something.
Ahhh…. college
Oh, so that's liquid nitrogen pouring on me, then?
Certain events this week have me thinking about college. And, don’t worry, this is a personal post but nothing sad or depressing. I am not sure how interesting this will be to anyone who wasn’t there but I hope it makes you laugh, Ali.
The various pictures are all from the site: www.stonytbrooksucks.com and are undoctored photos from around campus.
I was back at Stony Brook for homecoming last fall — which was my first Stony Brook homecoming ever, I didn’t even go when I went there. A lot has changed. The bridge to nowhere is gone, which makes me sad.
First up: Dumb things Stony Brook did.
Stony Brook University is supposed to be known as one of the best SUNY schools and have excellent science and engineering departments. Yet the following statements are all true:
- The hugely expensive sports complex cannot be used, as promised, for sports events like track because the track is six inches too short.
Attack of the crasher squirrel!
(Similarly, the pool, also built for outside events, was built backwards.)
- For years they had a ‘bridge to nowhere’ that was supposed to connect the library to the student union, one is across the street from the other but it failed to do so.
- One university president, in his desire to make the school more like USC, wanted a bell tower with a clock to chime throughout the day but the school had no money so he played a recording of chimes, complete with static, on the hour, each hour. Stay classy, Stony Brook.
- Although hurricane season occurs every year at the same time, major roof repairs were done to many of the dorms in August. Yes, one struck Long Island and yes, those dorms flooded.
- Two quads were listed as “G” and “H” on diagrams for the school during its construction, not being clever enough to think of real names, they stayed that way for more than 30 years.
- People always get lost in the library because when they wanted to expand it, they just build a new one around the old one.
- When I was in the student government, I was on a panel to improve the quality of our food. We were asked to discuss our most memorable experience with the food (seriously, not “what was your best food?” but what has your most “memorable experience with the food” — well, that time we…). Mine was when they offered us veal patties. Being curious about how a state school was serving veal, something which I have not eaten since I was 10, I asked for one. It was empty. Fried air. That’s where those crack engineering minds were spending their time.
Next up: dumb things I did:
These are the things that should comfort me whenever I think it is early senility or my most recent head injury causing me to forget something (like the time recently I ran into get my checkbook and ran out with my remote control). I should take heart; I was always this absent minded. When we were roommates (side note: my name is Alyson, my roommate’s name was Alison and one of my best college friend’s name was Allison, you can imagine how interesting that made things), I thought our outgoing dorm voicemail should be one of those “I am sorry, can you please speak up…?” deals, so I recorded one. My idea and my voice and yet it still managed to fool me at least five times. All of the roommates (we were in a six person suite), thought it was hilarious that I set my alarm clock ahead by several minutes to trick myself. A few joked they were going to change it to screw with me more and one did — rather than being 15 minutes ahead it was somewhere in the range of 90. For more than a semester I showed up everywhere more than an hour early. (In my defense, that was only mornings when I had something early. Against me, I was in the student government that year and clearly, no job on earth carries the importance of that, so I did go into “my office” pretty early most days.)
Remember Gina’s ‘heap of hope?’ (Gina was not the most tidy suitemate and had a pile roughly the size of Everest on her bed.) Yes, that remote control we lost for several months was in there.
How about Misha the cat from hell? Or how she kept leaping from the balcony? Or how we had to hide the cats in the shower when they did room inspections? Or Randi’s birds that shit everywhere.
Not sure why, but back in college I liked to walk around singing the Ivory Soap commercial. Not kidding. One day I was in some building on campus and ran into Iowa (another suitemate) singing it. She swore me to promise never to tell anyone but I think the statute of limitations has run its course on that one.
Anyway, when I went back, there were a lot of changes. I don’t know what this says about me — maybe nothing, the olfactory system is supposedly one of the most closely connected to memory — but when I walked down the stairs of the union building it was as if not a moment had passed since you and I were there. The smell brought it all back: The Rainy Night House, that student government scandal my campaign nearly caused (ironic and sad) and how lucky I am that we were roommates.
Love you.