My GOD! Can you believe what those fucking hackers wrote in my site yesterday?!? I am appalled!

I mean you guys KNOW that I am the epitome of cool and composed and never write about such torrid affairs.

*~*

Moving forward. Last night I went to see my friend who got the masectomy. My friend A. hemmed and hawed and I finally coerced her to just travel to the entrance of the hospital with me. As I fill her in on the armpit situation and the gyno. issue, she starts yelling at me for never telling anyone anything that's going on with me.

What can I tell you? I don't like to kiss and tell;-)

So, as I brace myself for the lecture, and the fact that I have to go in this hospital alone and wonder if it will be me in there soon. I take out a cigarette to smoke.

As I light it, my friend screams, "Jesus Christ you aren't going to smoke that are you?!" I said, "That's what it looks like." And she said, "My God, it's the Great American Smoke-Out! It's one day for God's sake, show some control."

I looked around and noticed, nobody was smoking. And this made me irate.

I'd like to take a moment and send a big, resounding "FUCK YOU" to the people who think they can impose their health restrictions on me through a Hallmarked, meaningless day that was created to give some non-profit a goal to work for with coffers from wealthy donors looking for tax breaks.

I hate the Great American Smoke Out day. If people want to quit they will. But don't impose your fucking day on me.

I would like to propose a "National Shut the Fuck Up Day." This is a day where all of the stupid, non-thinking and utterly moronic people are asked to think before they speak and shut the fuck up.

So on that day, when I am smoking outside, and some old man walks by and says, "You shouldn't smoke," I will reply, "Shut the fuck up." Or when I hear, some girls outside trading shopping tips about some tragic nazi chain store, like Banana Socialist Republic, I can tell them to shut the fuck up and how about checking out one of the million fabulous boutiques in this town that sell orginal clothes at reasonable prices, or go vintage?

Yes, I think, National Shut The Fuck Up day sounds like a sweet symphony to my ears.

*~*

And so we go into the hospital and I am armed. With cards and flowers and toys and a balloon. I look like a I just robbed a 2-year-old's birthday party. I ask at the desk for my friend and they tell me she's still in surgery and to go up the OR. I give my friend a pleading eye and she breaks down and agrees to accompany me. Yeaaaa.

Upstairs, we find out that our friend is in recovery. They give us her room number and we head down there to drop off the stuff.

We get down there, to discover a Jessica Tandy look-a-like in the other bed. I'm pretty sure she was mumbling something about Gidgy and green tomatoes. I look away and start to decorate my friend's untouched bed.

My friend and I go to find a vase for the flowers and on the way stop to wash our hands, we both suddenly feel infected in this hospital and I don't want to touch anything.

I am suddenly reminded of my favorite Aunt, the one I look like and party like, who died of lukemia a few years ago. She smoke like a chimney until she was 72, when she got sick. I remember when, she first went into the hospital and they had just told her what she had, but they didn't know how bad it was yet.

In typical Partygirl fashion, which was her fashion before mine and I am sure I poached it, she beckoned me from the door to her room with a bark and said, "Well, don't take all day now, I'm a dying woman you know." I came closer and she said, "Do you believe this shit? Here they told me for years to stop smoking and now I'm dying from something not even related? When you come back tomorrow night, sneak me a Manhattan and some cigarettes."

My Aunt's biggest concern about death was that she get the biggest turn out of all of her friends at her funeral. She wanted lines out the door and she wanted people crying. And believe me, she got it. Nearly a thousand turned out for it, lines out the door to get into the funeral home, you would have thought Jackie O. herself was laid out in there.

All of this came flooding back to me as I frantically washed my hands and then used a paper towel to avoid contact with door knobs.

We returned to the room and my friend struck up a conversation with Jessica Tandy, eating her fried green tomatoes and speaking cheerfully. She was sweet, that woman, and she thought someone had called for our friend (the patient) and then she said, "Oh my, I probably shouldn't have told you that much now should I...oh, well." And I smiled and said, "that's ok, it's our secret," and I look at my friend , who is supposed to be MY rock and I see her standing there with a huge smile, staring at Jessica Tandy and crying.

Without thinking I grab the friend's arm and I pull her out the room, as I say to JT, "be nice to our friend she may be scared to wake up here on her first night! We'll see you tomorrow." And JT waved and smiled at me from her bed and my friend broke down into a complete mess.

I say, HELLO, I am supposed to the be the upset one, you are here to help ME! But it's too late, she is mid-break down and there is nothing left to do but for me to break into song to cheer her up.

But all I can think of to sing is Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend" and before I know it I am standing on Third Avenue, smiling in my friend face, singing,

"I want to love somebody, I hear you need somebody to love..."

and before she knows what she's doing, she's laughing with me and singing,

I "cause you need to...be back in the arms of a good friend..."

and I grabbed her hand and we ran screaming across the street...

I "I didn't know nobody...and then I saw you coming my way."

It was late at this point, so we went and indulged in a dinner that we could not nearly afford. It was during this time, that my friend decided to tell me that I am like that Parkay commercial. I meet a guy I like and I give him a little bit of myself, I open up and offer "Parkay" and he opens up saying, "butter" and then I quickly shut down again. But she did those little open and shut hand motions and I just could not stop laughing at the analogy.

Then she tells me, here's how you react to interpersonal relationships: 1) You listen to everyone else and say nothing, 2)you volunteer a small piece of information and then shut down, 3) when confronted on your actions you may give up a piece of information, or you will fight it, shut down AND runaway. Look at your life, partygirl, when the going gets going, you run. Everytime.

Interesting, I thought. And I felt a little like the runaway bride. Without being nearly as pretty. Or ever actually engaged.

So I felt nothing like the Runaway Bride. I felt like I feel everytime I think about my alleged "relationships" if you can call them that.

*~*

I spent my morning in Doctors offices. I do not have cancer. The swelling is from overuse of deodorant. It clogged my pores.

However, my eye is killing me. So I was sent back to the hottie eye doctor. He came into my life a few years ago when I was having eye issues and I in turn became obsessed with him. Unfortunately, nothing happened.

But now I am back and he is as cute and single as ever. He started asking me questions and picked up on his sentence and ran down the other symptoms from the checklist in my head. Surprised, he looked up, ahhhhhh, he said and smiled, so what is your prognosis Doctor?

Well, I said, I'm not sure. I ruled out conjunctivitis, and narrowed it down to scratched cornea or those bumps on my eyelid from my contacts that I had last time.

Well let's see, he said. And he told me to place my chin in the chin rest and with my face up to the light and lense, he told me to look here and there, and I found myself conscious of swallowing as I always am when that close to the hottie doctor.

I have an infection in my cornea, from sleeping in my contacts. Great. So he gave me drops and I returned to my office. I told the girls what I had, as gingi strolled into the room for a surprise visit. And they all yelled at me for sleeping in my contacts and I tried to explain that I hate waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to see and as I finally admitted that I am vain, one of the girls screamed out: Partygirl wants to look good for her secret, invisible boyfriend."

And I just had to laugh. Yes, ladies, I am sleeping with an invisible man. He's a superhero of a different sort, sharing my bed. No wonder I sleep so well. ::SNORT::

*~*

Thanks to those who called or checked in last night to make sure I hadn't jumped. Also thanks to those who sent private e-mails and messages in my guestbook. It meant a lot.

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