Just before I headed to work yesterday at Noon (it was my night at the library), Teh 'Bride calls home from her library to say that Teh 'Bro just sent an e-mail saying that Teh 'Dad had been hospitalized. The foax at Teh 'Dad's home had noticed he seemed disoriented (there are a lot of disoriented people at Teh 'Dad's place, but he is not one of them) and he was complaining of stomach pain.
He was admitted into the hospital with what they seem to think is a UTI.
A few years earlier, Teh 'Dad had been hospitalized with a UTI whose main symptom was EXTREME genital pain. He even said to the doctor at one point, "I don't care if you have to cut them1 off — go ahead. I don't need them anymore." Teh 'Bro and I totally cracked up at this, even though we knew it meant Teh 'Dad must be in Big Time Pain, and so we're both going to Hell for that. At least I'll have someone to drink beer with. I later apologized to Teh 'Dad for laughing at his remark, but he said it was okay because "that was the one time in my life that you were not the biggest pain in my testicles."
Thanks, Teh 'Dad. Love you, too.
Anyroad, Teh Poor 'Bro was at the hospital for like 5 hours yesterday before Teh 'Dad finally got a room. I'll more than likely take time this afternoon to go see Teh 'D., unless something changes.
Teh 'Bride has been bugging me, ever since this post, to issue a correction. She does not sing it: "Toein' the line (toein' the line) BAMP! BAMP!" But rather: "Toein' the line (toein' the line) TOOT! TOOT!" For some reason, this distinction was important to her.
For the record: The song clearly goes BAMP! BAMP! not TOOT! TOOT! And it's still "draggin'" not "toein' teh line". I guess Teh 'B. just likes being wrong because this is the first correction I've ever issued because somebody complained that I didn't get her misquotation completely right. Or wrong. Whatever. Point is, Teh 'Bride's "corrected" version of that line is even farther from what the line actually says and sounds like.
A while back, I was e-corresponding with a friend who claimed she was Teh Queen of Household Piles. I was like, NO WAY!1! Teh 'Bride can beat anyone. But she insisted she was best because there were piles in all the rooms of her house: the kitchen, the living room, her office; and she claimed every direction she gave her kids or her husband was pile-oriented: "Yeah, your keys are in the living room next to the pile on the table..."
But I was all Pfffffttt! Teh 'Bride can beat that!
"How's this: 'Dinner's on the dining room table under the pile ... no, the other pile!"
But my friend is stubborn and would not concede defeat. So we kinda left it there in this sorta in-between, unsettled alpha-state of detente. Or whatever.
But last night, I get home from work, and I see, among the piles on the kitchen table, Teh 'Bride's latest acquisition: this book, Teh Story of Stuff. Because we had seen the author just a couple daze ago on Teh Colbert Report, and I had said to Teh 'B.: "I can't believe you haven't taken that book out." And she sez: "I made our library buy it" - because it's another book about how we all just have too much stuff.
And so last night, there it was.
And it occurred to me: At any given time, among Teh 'Bride's piles, is a pile of roughly eight to ten books, magazines, articles, etc. on how to cut down on teh piles in your life.
So Here's Teh 'Bride, FTW!, Courtesy of 20,000 Bonus Irony Points Because She Has Piles of Things That Tell You How To Rid Your Life of Piles!
EAT IT, Anonymous Friend! You're a distant second at best, pile-ically speaking!1! Teh 'Bride is the Undisputed Queen of Pilesylvania!
But, if it's any consolation, Anon.F., you are the world's worst driver. If not by virtue of your own driving record, then by virtue of your ethnicity. (<-- This is really just a pity trophy here on Everybody Gets a Trophy day.)
Went for a 6.36-mile run this morning and was so lost in thought that I actually managed to trip while transitioning at a crosswalk from road to sidewalk. But here's the thing: The sidewalk "rise" was one of those wheelchair-accessible ones that goes up about a quarter of an inch2 where sidewalk meets street. And yeah, I tripped, or, as they say in Kanadia, I "pulled a Kanada Keef3." And it was one of those trips that, at first, you think you can run and overtake it and re-gain your balance, only to realize, possibly too late, that that strategy may end in a vicious face-plant.
But just in time, I gave up the effort to re-gain my balance, and just gracefully fell on my right hand and @$$-cheek and kinda rolled. @$$-over-teakettle, and thereby minimized the damage.
Total bodily damage: Slightly scraped palm and bruised right @$$-cheek.
Man - it's embarrassing when you have a bruised @$$-cheek and you have to explain to foax that it's not from deviant sex-play. Because you can just hear them thinking: Pffffttt! Luuuuzer!1!
1 Yes, Them.
2 Although most men would tell most women that was a good 5 inches. Not me, mind you. Just those other men. Teh luuuuuuzer men.
3 N.B., by "pulled a Kanada Keef" I do not mean that thing he does when he "whacks his frozen wet cod" then brags about it on his blog because THAT'S DISGUSTING, KANADA KEEF!1!
Besides, mine's more a sleek, writhing python.