Aug. 1st, 2002

rockettqween: (Default)
Went out tonight. Saw someone from the old crowd. Ex-friend of my ex-husband. He was rather trashed and thought it was OK to fondle my ass. It was most definitely not. I was playing pool at the time and my reaction was to spin around and point my cue at him and say, "don't fucking do that!" But he grabbed ahold of my precious Lucasi and said, "You know better than to point a weapon at me." I lost my shit but couldn't properly react as the manager of the bar walked in between us. For some reason I was livid. Only certain people are allowed to touch me and they know who they are. My friends seem to have a pretty good sense of my boundaries. That's why they're my friends.

I was taken back about 7 years ago, in the U-District Last Exit days. I had a bad reputation. Through my own naivete. I learned. And I left. Almost no one from those days has any contact with me. I keep it that way for a reason. My so called "friends" from that era only seemed to want me for sex, money, or chemicals. Fuck those losers.

I hate running into people from that time period. However, the incident, although it was distressing and made me feel like I'd been slimed, served as a reminder that I've made the decision to have better people around me than I used to. I guess I don't hate myself as much as I thought.

I don't ever have to hang out with people like that again. Cool. Taking control of your life is not a bad thing.

The Last Exit (Seattle's Oldest Coffeehouse) went out of business a couple of years ago. May it rot in pieces.
rockettqween: (Default)
Went in for mammogram. Saw breast specialist (How'd you like THAT job?) who squished my tits into strange configurations. Decided that the lump was probably naturally lumpy tissue and no mammogram was needed but to come back in 3 months anyway. She also pointed out that the right one was significantly bigger than the left. I already knew that. It's not THAT much bigger thank you very much.

Was left in the state hospital clinic examining room with nothing to read but a pregnancy magazine (Ugh. Tried it. Didn't like it much. My kid is cool. I don't need the reminder of what it took to grow him.) and, well, I got kind of bored. So I decided to peek in the drawers labeled with such treasures as "band-aids", "cotton swabs", "catheters", and "speculums". Decided I wanted a catheter of my very own, but getting to them would require rummaging through the contents of the drawers and possibly getting caught.

Settled on a speculum of my very own instead. There were about a dozen of them lined up, polished, shiny, sterilized. I could only fit one in my purse.

Had to go to two different ihavenoinsurancenojobiamaloser desks afterwards. Luckily I managed not to have to open my purse.

I got in the car with my workout partner afterwards. We drove for a bit and I asked him out of the blue, "Would you like a speculum?"

He wrinkled his nose and looked at me funny and said, "No, I don't know what I'd do with it."

I whipped out my prize from the hospital visit and said, "I don't know what I'M going to do with it."

I broke his brain. It was definitely worth pilfering just for the fact that he laughed so hard.

I stuck it out the car window and made it quack at people on the sidewalk. They ignored me.

I want to spray paint it gold and mount it on some block as the "Golden Speculum Award."

I don't know what one gets a GSA for. I'll think of something.

A friend of mine is jealous and tried to get me to give it to him. Apparently he's been wanting to do speculum puppet shows for years. "Give it to me! I want to stick googly eyes on it!"

It may be time to compile a 101 uses for a speculum list. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

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rockettqween

October 2002

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