whiskey is my girlfriend

i'm always sick. i blame this city and my dismal sex life. whatever the reason, i'm always sick. this week was no different. i had strep a few weeks ago and that apparently turned into walking pneumonia. but it took a loooooooong day for me/my doctors (yeah i had a round-the-clock team on the case.....oooorrr i went to a clinic for 4 hours but they were full of the homeless so i was shipped off to the ER for a few more hours where they were full of the real kind of homeless, not the chelsea kind, and i doubt i even saw an actual doctor. buuuuuuuut i'm getting ahead of myself).

here is my average-sized tale of my night in beth israel emergency room. (Ed. note -- for a hot second i thought of making this a poem. like iambic pentameter style. but the last poem i wrote was for my grandmother for her 90th birthday. she still has no idea what it is or who gave it to her. it collects dust on her nursing home shelf next to a statue of some saint -- we have no idea which saint or who gave it to her. full. circle.).

so mid-day wednesday, i start having chest pain upon inhale. i haven't crushed dominos in weeks and i wasn't hungover -- seriously, i wasn't. dick. so it's probably not a heart attack/the DTs...

around 5 pm, i sneak out of my office and trek to a clinic by my apartment where i wait. and wait. and wait. and wait. for over three motherfucking hours. mind you, i wrote "difficulty breathing. chest pain. painful swallowing." on the sign-in card. so when i'm finally seen and the doctor deduces that i either have pneumonia or a blood clot in my lungs (thanks birth control!) and wants to ambulance me to the hospital....those 3 hours could have made a difference...

i decide a cab is faster than an ambulance (that's a little sad, huh?) and get to the ER where they treat "can't breathe" in the same "take a seat" fashion before asking me to pee in a cup. and when i ask why i need to hand over a bottle of urine when my symptoms are lung-related, i did NOT realize miguel would just assume shank me to get to the next person in line. i'm also forgetting that holding my cup of pee was not on his christmas list. so i smiled, tried to show some cleavage as recompense but am interrupted by my own gross coughing fit. miguel's had enough and allows to lie on a bed in a secret office where my PA gives me the rundown on the happs in the ER. there's a convict loose.

i repeat.

there's a convict loose in the emergency room. i'm hoping he's the type of convict who likes to steal drugs or maybe evaded a few taxes. not the type who likes to rape asthmatic chicks hiding in PA offices. before i can ask any questions she takes a few pints of blood before throwing me to the wolves in the x-ray area. the perfect place for a convict.

i'm ray'd then am sent back out in the waiting area. i try to contain the wheezing and mingle with some cops who are kicking around. i flirt a little between coughs to find out the deal with this convict. he's most certainly on the loose, and he has stolen a polka dot tie. from whom? unknown. however it is most certainly a navy tie with white polka dots. i have another coughing fit and decide it's best to sit.

it's this moment i realize the ER is really prison. the first question asked: whatchainfor? the girl to my right has swallowed a fish bone. the boy to my left has seizures, but no one believes him. he has stopped taking his medication so as to have a seizure to prove them wrong. i admire his tenacity.

and in front of me awakens a homeless man. i almost didn't see him for he has made himself a fort (fortress really) out of personal belongings bags and paper hospital gowns. but he rises and hollers for a doctor to fix his foot. i ask him what he did to it. he says he "drank it broke." logical. i've drank my wallet and soul broke before, this guy was just worried about his foot.

epilepsy tells him to lay off the booze. to which he replies "whiskey is my girlfriend". which, thank god he realizes, is best in song, for he hops up and jigs on one foot to his new tune. and as if waiting in the wings....

cue the orthodox jews!!

homeless man: RABBI!! rabbi!
(probably not a) rabbi: hello, sir.
drunk: you're jewish! you come from israel!
jew: i come from brooklyn.
drunk: i come from brooklyn too!!
fish bone girl: small world...
whiskey's significant other: jews are very very rich! my father was a jew.
jew: so you are a jew!
me to spunky seizure kid: the plot thickens...
drunk: i am not a jew. my mother is irish.
jew: then you are certainly not rich, my friend!

laughter amongst the rest of the rabbis. and as this urban rendition of fiddler on the roof wrapped, i couldn't help but think: once again, the jews punk'd the catholics.

at this moment, i'm called back into the office, handed a bottle of dimetapp and sent on my way.

if every word i said could make you laugh...

christmas comes early!! my pal cass handed me a glorious present this morning: an announcement that i've been waiting for since 1995, perfectly wrapped up by john stamos and handed to me on a "how rude?!" platter. that's right, eager readers, full house is coming back! (for those of you who don't know...this blog is named after the show, so this is a VERY big deal for me. i bleed tanner blood.)

before i dive into how amazing this is going to be, let's all take a moment of silence for jodie sweetin's life.











ok, now that we've paid our respects -- i hope they work the meth addiction into the show. oh! this is a fun game. what else can we revive?

1. Donna Jo being fat and passing out at the gym because she's been feeding comet all her ham sandwiches trying to be anorexic for a day just so she can look hot at connie dimarco's pool party. and instead of eating ice pops (amazing), aunt becky tells her to eat "lean chicken without the skin" and other "i'm totally anorexic too and this is what my doctor told me i should eat, but i'll really teach you the best way to purge without anyone knowing as soon as these clowns leave the dinner table."
   
2. any episode with jurnee smollett.
3. colonel gladstone. we all know dave coulier will be onboard, and it will be even more classic to watch him have a fake successful comedy career the second time around when he's really not famous. having his dad show up at a vegas gig to tell him to cut. it. out. will be that much better.
4. the rippers. including all the 80's bitches with platinum blond hair, aqua net bangs, and leather mini-skirts who provided no value other than to "play" the tamborene and dance slightly better than zack morris (or a.c. slater for that matter...).
   
5. any episode with gail edwards.
6. TOMMY PAGE!! the stephanie/dj rivalry over whom he's in love with, since, you know, a celebrity of his stature would clearly make out with a 13 year old in her house with her dad two feet away. wait a minute, he's somehow less famous than the rest of the cast, so this shouldn't be a problem.
7. awkward references to dead pam. particularly in the form of 1981 home videos.
   

things i wouldn't mind cutting entirely:

1. the twins. their hijinks won't be as cute (sorry, you're right, they never were) now that they're 45. wait, are they the chubby twins on that disney channel show right now?? regardless, i hope they still have mushroom cuts wherever they are...
2. danny. UNLESS every time he enters a shot they cue the violins. in which case, i want him in every episode. otherwise, i'll take vicky solo. perhaps a widow? plus bob's got a mean comedy tour going -- i doubt he'd give up boston's comedy connection for this gig.
3. the beach boys. UNLESS they play sloop john b and are still breathing.
   
4. kimmy's feet.

"Only a masochist could ever love such a narcissist," and other things that will be recited at my wedding

wow. where to begin?? apologies on being a day late posting. apologies to stephanie savage and the rest of the ggirl writers for thinking you'd completely lost your minds when you simply, selflessly took an early vacation and allowed dorota to write the last episode. but thank god you're back.

a few things to note about this rundown:
1. i have yet to read daily intel or gawker or any other better, smarter blog's take on this 'sode. they're writing their posts for you. i'm writing this for me. because this week was so good, i almost cried. but then stopped because each time it was when blair was on screen and also crying and i realized she's the prettiest crier ever so i shouldn't even try.
2. i'm not talking about the baby situation. i'm just not. adoption? abortion? i can't think that far ahead. it's too taxing. i don't know if it's an existing kid (can you imagine if it were serena?? ick....but i'm a little into it cause i totally hate the dan/serena thing anyway. and i'm sick. and a masochist. and a narcissist.) or a new kid who suddenly strolls back from france to be chuck 2.0. i just can't. it's late.
3. i'm actually not going to discuss lilly at all. or serena really. wait i will discuss serena because i have to mention aaron's facial....situation...but not lilly. can't we just make this the blair-chuck show??

so. ok. wow. this episode is what a pop culture addict's dreams are made of. did anyone else think that serena was wearing a slip and then suddenly it was an actual "dress"?? she WOULD wear lingerie to her step-father's funeral. loved the hair though. at least that tats weren't out...

god i hope rufus stays on this show forever and ever. everything about him makes me laugh. the tight turtleneck sweater, the way he just sits alone playing guitar in his loft (which has become the most transient place since port charles general hospital ... no GH fans out there? robin w/ the hiv? sonny and the mafia? luke, laura and lucky??), how we gave him the most cliche closing line ever. go off to france, find you 25 year old kid, write a song about it and hire tom hanks as your manager and a kid who refuses to take his sunglasses off as your drummer and we'll see you next season.

aaron, on the other hand, christ. someone throw this kid a bottle of ky and a stack of anime porn. he's officially the creepiest dude on network tv. or hand him a mach 3 and my number. HOW does serena get an all expenses paid trip to south america away from her insane family with just her boyfriend at only 17 years old when she HASN'T EVEN PUT OUT YET!! the longest i think i've waited to sleep with a dude to test this theory was 12 (longmotherfucking) days. and you know what i got? a tom petty cd. i was also 17.

all right. it's time.

blair. hearts. breaking.
chuck. too. sexy.

who pulls aggro drunk off that well?? i'm so glad he didn't puke or go over the top with it. just was. chuck is pissed. and he's drunk. and he's still just as sexy. i can't wait for him to do something completely outrageous with all of bart's money. like buying loads of diamonds for blair or my dream nantucket beach house or dorota.

for real, these two could continue this back and forth of "i love you" / "that's too bad" for 10 more seasons. i'd still watch this cock tease tango over and over again. i wasn't even turned off that blair was the big spoon in bed, post-chuck's not-cry. and usually that's grosser than midget porn to me. and i love that blair just peaced on her mom's wedding to spoon. and be gorgeous. and sigh perfect. (Ed. note: what are the odds i don't come into work tomorrow sporting a dvf dress and matching headband?)

ummmmm in searching for an image to close this post, i came across this: http://blairandchuck.com/ and so i now need to go spend THE REST OF MY LIFE on this site. excuse me...