Accidentally went to bed with my contacts in last night (or, um, 3am, since I stayed up to finish Mockingjay). This was a startling find when I woke up--startling in that I was freaking out that I could see clearly. A miracle had happened in six hours and I woke up with 20/20 vision. Well, maybe not 20/20 since my eyes were a bit glued together, which should have been my second clue that I had my contacts in and that no miracle had occurred. I could see the wonderful day out side the window, and to my dismay, the horrible messy room (mostly my fault). At some point I started paying attention to how my actual eyes felt, and realized that this gooey miracle was just me being stupid. That my eyes are still at -5.5, and now very red and sad.
I left my contacts in when I got up, because I'm lazy like that and will suffer for beauty at home, alone, pulling shit out of ET's butt in the backyard. Yes, I haven't mentioned it due to the horrible stress of it, and wishing that silence would make it not exist, but ET has been constipated for over a week now. Maybe two weeks. I need to keep a chart of how often he poos, so I won't be guessing like that. We were really starting to fret and were talking about getting x-rays, but then this morning, when I finally dragged my crusty-eyed, tired body out of bed, I saw a poo sticking out of his ass. He was totally working it out, lifting his back legs so his body was very far off the ground while lowering his front legs so his fact was in a pile of hay. He strained, he farted, he ate hay to pass the time. I finally took him outside and just pulled that poo right out of him. It was the width of my finger and 5-6" long. All hay and grass, so it is none of the old stuff still in him. It wasn't particular hard, but not very soft either. It was pretty much like one of the cats' hairballs.
To reward him for being such a good patient, I let him wander around the backyard, feeding freely on our grass that has to be at least a foot long and dead. It is a perfect 85 outside. It was very pleasant to sit out there and watch him walk around happily munching on bits of leaves and grasses. Next up was a bath in hopes to relax his cloaca from all that poo pulling I did, and to see if anymore needed some softening to get out of him. My guess is he's going to have bouts of constipation for the rest of his life, and the key as his mom is to figure out how often it happens and do some trial and error to see what will shorten the duration of it.
I pulled a poo from my tortoise's ass! That's some seriously exciting stuff to add to my already jam-packed weekend. In all seriousness, it has been a busy weekend.
Friday
Guamaniac had free tickets to a Cinemark movie theater. He wanted to go see The Last Exorcism. As much fun as it was to have him shriek a couple of times and fall into my shoulder like a well-muscled gay puddle, the movie sucked some serious hairy goat balls. Though, it did leave us with some funny quotes for each other. A new song has been born as well, where we try to spell Abalam to the Oscar Mayer wiener song. Guamaniac just can't do it. Our demon has a first name, it's A-B-A-L-A-M...(the "lam" part has to be spelled very quickly, which is fine if he stops calling our baby Ablamalam).
The theater was practically empty except for a group of seriously annoying teenage girls, whom Guamaniac had to tell more than one to shut the fuck up, except for he said it extremely politely, whereas I was about to say, "Tits Magee and friends, I am going to slap you about the face with the arms I tear off your bodies if you don't shut up already." Then a couple came in late with a fucking newborn. What the hell people? You have a baby, you stay home. You don't go to shitty horror movies and nurse that baby a mere three chairs away from me. During the last half of the movie, the baby was getting a little fussy (because it was fucking shoved up against its mother's body being squashed to be quiet), and the mom left for a good 15 mins or so. Then the husband left. Then they both came back SANS BABY!
Where the fuck did they take that baby? I found it really upsetting but didn't know what to do. We followed them out after the movie, and my plan was to follow them to the car to see if that's where they stashed it. Sadly, they went in to the ice cream store near the theater. Ice cream is more important than a missing baby. We finally gave up, and I looked in the paper yesterday morning but there was no news of a dead baby being found anywhere, so I guess it ended up fine. I hope.
We hit up Charlie's next for $1 drinks and possible gay booty dancing. That didn't happen considering I wasn't wasted and do not dance unless I am guaranteed not to remember it in the morning. We ended the night stuffing our faces with McDonald's and watching a couple episodes of The Simpsons. It was marvelous. Got home at 2am.
Saturday
A day and night of Wikus. He wanted to go see at the Alamo. I stuffed my face with a hotdog and fries, and did my best to enjoy it while sitting in the fucking front row because we underestimated how popular this movie still was a few weeks after its release at a Saturday matinee. It was better than Friday's movie, but nothing I'll be recommending to anyone.
That lovely salty meal left me in a state of stupor that a nap was required. After spending some time struggling to wake and having a hard time putting Mockingjay down, I finally left the house, got Wikus and attended the Stereo Total at the Mohawk. It was a pretty good show, except at the end when one asshole started mauling Francois Cactus' left ear. His friends actually had to pull them off of her. During the finale they pull people on stage to dance with them, and this is what she gets for it. I was so angry, and felt terrible that she had to play it off like it was no big deal. She was gracious even though when it was happening you could tell she wasn't pleased at all. That is such crap, and no one should have to put up with that. I wanted to kill him. I was on the upper deck, so there was no way for me to get to him and yank his cock off his body. I should have just dived down in to the audience and trusted that they would crowd surf me to him. I am a coward.
Sunday
See above. Tonight I'll be joining Emma's Mom and Whiskey to a horror-movie night. They are kindly picking me up because there is no way I'll drive to a stranger's house. What if I beat my friends there? What the fuck would I do but go cry in the bathroom in terror? Or sit there stiffly and act like I'm totally cool with knowing no one, and internally cursing my friends for not being there yet.
Between now and then, I plan to be as lazy as possible. Starting now.
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