lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Guess Who's Coming to the Doctor I welcome anyone to read this entry, but I'm warning those of you of the male persuasion: It's gonna get gross, and it's about my vagina. Proceed at your own peril. For those of you still brave enough, just drag your cursor across the text for it to show up. A pain in the ass? Oh, yeah. But I don't want anyone to read this who isn't sure of exactly what they're getting into. Okay, I've been bleeding very heavily lately, which was the feminine problem I referred to the other day. By last night it was pretty well under control, but today my vagina went haywire. I know I have to see a doctor about this, but my mom works with a woman who is having this same problem (namely excessive unstoppable bleeding coupled with grotesque, monster-movie-sized blood clots). My mom told me every detail of this woman's doctor visit except that he told her to stay off her feet. I've been massive dosing ibuprofen to try to stay the flow, but apparently it's useless if you're spending upwards of eight hours on your feet, as I did today. Amazingly, as soon as I got home, it all ended. Now all I have to worry about is ibuprofen poisoning. Can that even happen? In other, more pleasant news, I saw my first AFI movie, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. Loved it, and love Spencer Tracy. I hated the girl who played Joey, though. They couldn't have found a good actress? I know she's Katharine Hepburn's niece, but Jesus. My absolute favorite part was this little one-minute interlude that had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the movie featuring the wacky, drugged-out meat delivery man dropping off some meat and picking up Weezie's assistant in the process. For some reason, they dance wildly back to the car. Pretty damn sweet. 1:08 AM - 11 January 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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