Man, and I already spent like three hours and several phone conversations going over the finer points of wardrobe with the old man last night�it was actually pretty comical, if only to me. First of all, you have to know that John is color-blind. As an added handicap, he�s a heterosexual man which means he does not know how to dress himself. I kept trying to describe to him, over the phone, the clothes I want him to bring down to wear to this shin-dig. �That brown, long-sleeved shirt with the pattern in the fabric� stuff like that; and he�d call back half an hour later asking additional questions because he can�t tell brown from blue from red.

In addition, he found out yesterday that his grandsons� third birthday party is happening on Saturday. So we also took a lot of time planning out our schedule, to make sure he could do both. And now, come to find out, we didn�t even need to worry about it.

Tee Hee.

So the boob surgery went well yesterday. Actually, I was out of there within half an hour, all told. Can�t find much fault in that. Of course, I�m probably going to have a big ugly scar on my left breast, but I figure anybody who gets close enough to actually see it had better like me enough not to care about a silly scar (I�ve always felt similarly about my ass).

However, I have come to the conclusion that I am a big baby. I never thought this of myself until now. Generally speaking, I have always had a very high tolerance for pain. I kick ass, people. I�m strong; I push myself. I am the Queen of �Walk-It-Off�. I was always that person who would, you know, continue to run the bases even though my shin-bone is sticking out through my shin�OK, that particular example never really happened, but I wouldn�t have put it past me. My point is, I�m a warrior. Or so I thought.

MY BOOB HURTS!

Whine, whine, piss and moan.

I didn�t go see Satellite Dogs last night. That decision really had less to do with boob pain and more with the fact that I took a Vicodin at about 6:00pm and by the time I should have gotten out of the bed in order to make myself pretty before I went out, I was completely zonked and seeing several t.v. screens where in reality there was only one. Driving even two miles to the bar was completely out of the question, not to mention the fact that I was barely coherent and so most likely wouldn�t have been able to order my vodka on the rocks. I don�t know what happened to my synapses, but they just were not firing on schedule. I�m sure that in such a state I would have been a huge source of amusement for several people, but I chose to remain at home, happily entertaining myself with visions of daises covering my bedroom walls.

You�d think I was joking�oh, except that I�m not. I don�t think it was just the Vicodin that caused such hallucinations, because I took one this morning and no happy daisies are anywhere in sight now. I must have had some residual anesthetic left over in my system from the procedure and the two combined just made for One Wild Ride, let me tell you. I�m kind of a wimp when it comes to anesthetic; I get loopy from freakin� Novocain at the dentist, for Pete�s sake. It�s all rather fun.

I may have to miss out on the possibility of office gossip this evening. As I write this sentence, it is just after 2:00, my mid-morning drugs are wearing off and I am starting to really not feel up to it. In fact, I may go home early. Too bad too, cuz frankly I look damn hot today! Hanging out at a quasi-upscale bar on the marina in this condition may prove beneficial to my social calendar...

I think I�m going to Vegas in June, in celebration of CJ�s birthday. He and a bunch of his friends have gone every year since he turned 21 and this time Amy invited me to go. I am seriously jonesing for a Vegas fix, too�Of course, they and all of their friends always get a suite at the Bellagio.

Now, I love the Bellagio and would love to stay there. However, I think I am just too old to stay in a room with like 10 people in their mid-twenties. I don�t mind the sleeping arrangements � I can pretty much catch at least a few hours anywhere, no matter how uncomfortable. Plus, let�s face it � who really sleeps in Vegas anyway? No, it�s more the sharing of bathroom facilities that causes me pause. I really just can�t see myself, at this time in my life, sharing a bathroom with several 25-year old men, no matter how cute they are and even if one of them is my nephew.

Anyway, so I think if I go I�ll be getting my own room, or at least will share with only like two-three other people; all females whom I trust to practice suitable bathroom hygiene.

I am torn between thinking it extremely cool that my niece and nephew like to hang out with their old aunt as much as they apparently do and feeling that I was only invited out of courtesy.

Of course � why would someone actually want to spend time with me, right?

Geez�nice self-esteem there, Karen.

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