Eh, I never was a Trekkie anyway although I DID purchase myself a stuffed Tribble at a sci-fi con (BaltiCon maybe?? I don't even remember) that I got dragged to waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the day. I remember being really sulky about going, too, but I was the one who had a working vehicle. (Ok, I'll confess that we did name it the Kobiyashi Datsun because it was a no-win situation that kept changing the conditions on us. Look, some of my friends WERE Trekkies and sometimes that stuff just kind of seeps into your pores. They had to put up with me and my quirks so it all evened out.)
Anyway, where was I? Right. Convention. Anyway, I was really petulant about being at this con and I kept getting hassled by guys who thought they were smoooooooooooooth... their primary means of greeting females being to smack them on the butt. This really just frosted my pickle. There was a mall across the street from the con location and I trotted over to one of those Puppy King stores and purchased a weeny-beeny little kitten harness and leash and put it on my stuffed Tribble and NOW I had an Attack Tribble.
After I bounced the Attack Tribble off a couple of heads, I was left very, very VERY much alone. I probably embarrassed the living daylights out of my friends, too. I don't recall going to another Con after that one.
By the way, can anyone tell me exactly how I managed to break one of my toenails while I was sleeping last night???? I often smack into things, bounce off corners, etc, but this little feat escapes even me. You'd kinda think I'd have NOTICED that? Dang.
We went for the MRI last night. You know it was off to a rocking start when we get all the way up to the center in the pouring rain and heavy traffic and find out... THEY SENT ME TO THE WRONG LOCATION. Yes indeedy. I have a 6:45 appointment, it was now 6:37 AND I AM AT THE WRONG CENTER. I am supposed to be out near Fairfax hospital. Damnation and pickles.
I let my husband drive and I just grabbed the "oh-shit" bar and closed my eyes. (I am a really, really bad passenger.) We walked into the correct imaging center at 6:45 precisely on the dot.
They give me this snazzy green hospital gown (except it wraps around again and does not expose your tush to the public. ) and you get to hang out with a bunch of other unhappy looking, green-gown wearing people. So then the nurse comes rushing back, waving my chart. (Guys... fair warning: imminent discussion of Female Matters)
"This says your last menstrual cycle was February 14th!!!" (Well and THANK YOUUUUU for announcing it, Madame Tact)
"Today is March 15!"
"YOU COULD BE PREGNANT!" Popping sounds as all heads snap around to stare at me.
"No... I am definitely not."
"But you could be!!!"
"the answer there is Absolutely Not."
"But... but... Oh. Are you taking the Pill?"
WTF, here? I mean really, WTF??? (Clearly, I am not blessed with nurses who understand the value of DISCRETION. This is almost as bad as the nurse at the OB's office who called me back about some early-pregnancy spotting to schedule an "emergency" appointment and chose to bellow at me "AND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS TO GO INTO YOUR VAGINA!!!!!" Did I mention that I was at work at the time? Aaaaaand while not on speakerphone, she bellowed so loud that my co-worker heard her loud and painfully clear?? Allow me to just gift-wrap my dignity and hand it over, huh?)
Anyway, so now the entire room is waiting to hear my preferred method of birth control. You wanna know? You really wanna know?? It's called Having an Eight-Month Old Infant. Women, if you have kids, you know what I mean. I mean COME ON.
So I make the effort to smile at this nurse and say very slowly "I.... am NOT pregnant. My cycle is not 28 days. Its anywhere from 34 to about 43 days. Has been since I was 11. End of Story."
She was persistent, let me give her that. "well, we might not be able to do the tests!"
"Fine. Do a pregnancy test then, but you're wasting your time and mine."
"Um... we don't have them at this location."
I think I must have gotten that Look on my face because she turned red and said "Let me see what the doctor says!!" Oh yes, you just do that. (And I wished, wish, WISHED for my Attack Tribble, because if anyone deserved to be Tribbled at that very moment... it was her.) The doctor must have heard the whole thing, but I hear HIM say "Oh just leave her alone and get the IV started."
The MRI itself was pretty awesome. Ok it was loud. Ok I was in a tube. Ok, I was wearing a flimsy little green hospital gown. BUT. I was laying down and nobody wanted anything from me except to hold my breath a couple of times... for an HOUR. Totally worth it, although the injection of the Contrast stuff annoyed me. Still. Mmmmmm. Best rest I had all week.
And when I went back into the changing room to get dressed, I discovered that the person using the second locker really really really REALLY needed to look into the value of a good deodorant. The little room now had the overpowering smell of armpits. And we are NOT talking "lemony fresh".
We won't have the results back for three or four days. And I have to "pump and dump" for 48 hours because of the Contrast (I don't remember what they shot into me, sorry). It is killing me to watch my Liquid Gold go swirling down the drain, let me tell you.
But since I am dumping... and since I'd already pissed off the pancreas... I soothed my troubled soul with a Five Guys Bacon Cheeseburger when we got home.
And that was, without a doubt, the best fricking bacon cheeseburger I think I've ever had. It ALMOST made up for not getting to give the nurse an Atomic Wedgie. Almost.