I haven't been blogging much lately. Must be because I've had so much to do. Let's see...I went to the new Indiana Jones movie. In my defense, I didn't actually go to see Indiana Jones, we wanted to go to the drive-in and that's what happened to be playing. It sucked. Really, there's no point in dissecting the "plot" to explain how badly it sucked, it just sucked. Iron Man was playing as well, and thanks to Robert Down Jr, it was pretty entertaining. The best show, however, was the one in front of the screen. Drive-ins are crazy. Drunken teenagers, pick-up trucks, kids in pajamas...good times.
What else? Uh, I didn't win the lottery. I didn't get my hair cut. I didn't file my taxes or initiate student-loan repayments. With all these things I wasn't doing, it's no wonder I had no time for blogging.
One thing I did do was to develop another symptom on my road to imminent death. It's not terrible headaches or mysterious back pains this time, it's a weird "fluttering" or twitching sensation near what I now know to be my sternum (yeah, yeah, I admit it, biology was never my strong point, and sternum isn't in the "...connected to my ___ bone" song, so it never really came up before). When I google this unusual new addition to my hypochondriac's shopping list, I find all sorts of bad heart and colon issues. And neither of these areas are areas where I look forward to having issues. Whatever, hopefully my ignore it (other than obsessing about it) and it will go away method of medicating will pay off once again.
Oh, and I went for a ridiculously expensive dinner at the ridiculously expensive celebrity hotspot, Cin Cin. It's not normally like me to frequent restaurants that charge 30 dollars for spaghetti, and I'm not of the mindset that the cost is offset by the possibility of being seated next to Ben Affleck or Anne Heche or whatever Hollywood hack happens to be filming in the city at the time, but it was for my mother-in-law's retirement dinner, so I sucked it up. I also sucked up the sparkling water that the wait staff kept refilling, thinking it was free, only to discover a 24-dollar additional charge on our bill at the end of the evening. Luckily, by insisting I didn't want an appetizer, salad, or dessert, and by ordering the cheapest thing on the menu (the aforementioned spaghetti) and nursing one beer, I managed to make it out of there and still have enough money to eat for the rest of the week.
And that about brings us up to date. Time for dinner.
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4 comments:
I'm an obsessive hypochondriac myself. From what I've read, heart problems usually include multiple symptoms, like dizziness, chest pains or shortness of breath. If this "twitching" isn't causing pain when it happens, I think it's safe to say that you have nothing to worry about.
Unless, of course, you're an astronaut and you've recently come in contact with one of those alien parasites that latches onto your face. I wouldn't worry about this either though, because if a baby alien were to burst out of your chest, it probably would have done so while you were having dinner with your mother-in-law at Cin Cin. (But before you got the bill, which would have saved you paying $54 for spaghetti and soda water.)
David Lynch came to Dallas two years ago to promote "Inland Empire" at the AFI film fest, and he didn't seem at all weird or nervous. In fact, it's hard to believe that such a soft-spoken, Midwestern guy could be responsible for creating a character like Frank Booth. (I think Dennis Hopper helped a lot in that regard.)
Oh crap, an alien baby did burst out of my chest. I thought it was just due to lack of sleep, I had no idea it could be a sign of something worse. Guess I'll scrape up the alien goo and take it to the lab for testing.
Sheesh, with all the stuff you've not been doing, where did you you ever find the time to not blog?
Exactly, finally someone who understands my predicament. Not doing stuff really takes it outta ya.
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