It's not easy being pink!

So Sometimes-I-Hate-Being-A-Girl-Poppy and I had our lady-bit appointments yesterday. See, we do these appointments on the buddy system, that way we're assured we'll both go. That said, I've made and cancelled these appointments for the last three years. Bad Fatass, bad!

Let the fun begin!



Don't ask me why my toe is red cause I don't know. Both Pelvic-Poppy and Fatass had to fill out a questionnaire before the appointment. It asked silly questions like how much exercise we get and how much do we drink. Fatass just knew this was going to be bad.

Dr. Hall comes in and sits at the computer and starts looking at Fatass' stats.
"Hmmm, how much exercise do you get?" Fatass fibs and says "Oh gosh, about 30 minutes 3 times a week." "Hmmm, you really need to get 150 minutes a week." Near as Fatass can calculate that would be about 10 hours or something. Whatever! It gets worse "Oh my, 14 drinks a week...do you feel like that's a problem? We have resources that can help." Fatass replies taking issue..."But, but, it's only two glasses of wine a night." Another lie! Fatass is getting more depressed as the minutes turn into an eternity.

Now the doc is typing furiously away. She turns the screen so Fatass can see it and shows Fatass this bar graph. The graph has this thick red line that starts at 2006 and goes up and up and up to the present. This evidently represents Fatass' weight gain over those few years. Then she asks Fatass if she wants a printout of her vitals. Fatass says "Oh yes, I'd love it." More lies!

Read it and weep; Fatass did.



It's upside down, so maybe you can't read it. Oh well, it's all lies anyway.

Not like this wasn't bad enough, but now Hooter-Poppy and I have to go to the third floor to get our boobies squished. They take you in groups of three. Fatass feels like she's in a heard of cows headed to become hamburger meat.



You may recall some years back I had reduction surgery. I now affectionately call the girls "Frankenboobs!" Not that I'm special cause I think they do this with everyone, but it's still really weird...



I bet you ladies can figure out where these go...for you boys, these little X-Marks-The-Spot things go on the little headlights so they can tell where they are located on the x-ray.

Fun times! First thing Poppy and Fatass did when we completed our afternoon of torture was to go have a celebratory libation...we deserved it! Oh yeah, this was one of the two drinks we're allowed for the evening. Liar-liar-pants-on-fire!

By the way, in looking for a spot for said drinkiepooh, we went into Clement Street Bar and Grill. There was no room at the bar, so we told the host that we wanted a cocktail so he sat us at a table. Then the server-lady; let's call her, well, annoying, came up before we even sat down and was grilling us on what we wanted. We said we needed a minute. She stood off to the side incessantly clicking her pen. Now, Poppy was already in a not-so-great mood, but this Annoying-Server-Lady was about to send my Poppy over the edge.

Okay, we finally decided on a drink, then Famished-Poppy noticed that there were bowls of chips on the bar. She went to the bar and before she could speak to the bartender, that Annoying-Server-Lady was on her like white-on-rice! "What can I get you?!" Poppy replies "Some chips would be nice." A few minutes later she tosses this little bowl of bottom of the bag crumbled up little tortilla chip pieces. WTF?

Needless to say, we'll never darken their door again.

I'm not sure I've talked about our neighbors across the street. The house is owned by an elderly couple who live up North. They rent the place out. When Poppy and I first moved in to our house last year, the neighbors house was rented out to a group of nurses. Very quiet folks. They moved out shortly after. Alicia, the owner, and her husband came down and worked on the house to get it ready for new tenants. Poppy talked to them. Poppy said they were very nice folks and just wanted some "nice" people to move in. We now understand that "nice" means "solvent".

Well, some Solvent-Young-Men moved in. Turns out, they rented the house to four students. This is their second year of college and first year out of the dorm. It would appear, they still have that living in a dorm attitude. The ragers are frequent, loud and go into the wee hours of the morn.

Our neighbors, Hodge and Kathy (and their two small children), share a wall with these Solvent-Young-Men and have been at their wits end for months. Kathy bought a white noise machine to drowned out the Solvent-Young-Men's music, etc. but she said she can't get the machine loud enough to drown them out.

Hodge has called the landlords and the police several times and I've been part of one complaint that was sent to the District Attorney's office because one of the Solvent-Young-Men threatened Zack, the 14-year old son of Hodge and Kathy. I'm not sure if this is the reason, but Hodge and Kathy have put their house up for sale.

Alicia-The-Landlord came down some weeks back to talk to all the neighbors and then to talk to the Solvent-Young-Men about their parties. She can't believe that the Solvent-Young-Men are having parties. "They're such 'nice' boys. There parents are lawyers." All that tells me is that Mommies and Daddies are the solvent part of the equation. Not ten minutes after Alicia and her husband leave, the little bastards open up all the windows and start blasting the music.

Early this morning at 2:30, Poppy and I jumped out of bed to the sounds of 20 or so Solvent-Young-Men yelling and spilling out of the house evidently having a water fight. There were balloons, water guns, buckets, coolers and a mini-van. They used the mini-van to drive up and down the street with the doors and sunroof open shooting water at each other. This went on for about a half-hour, then someone yelled at them and they disbursed.

This morning I spent a great deal of time cleaning up those Freakin-Self-Centered-Solvent-Young-Men's mess. Beer bottles, plastic bags and balloon detritus. Then, when leaving on my scooter, I notice a knit cap in the street and a playmate cooler that they left by the curb. Figure I'd take them. I get the cooler, drive over to the truck, put my side stand down, go to open the back of the truck to put the cooler in and I guess, my side stand didn't lock and I dropped my Buddy! Crap!! But the good news is only damage was a bent mirror which I fixed. Buddy was surprisingly easy to pick up too!

I'm tired!