I want my mama...

June 23, 2008--Today is Monday. I passed a kidney stone last Thursday and I still feel like ass warmed over.
I'm trying to ride out the storm, but it's likely that I'll end up at the urologist, something akin to a probing alien. I'm not keen on doctors, and I'm even less keen on doctors that go poking around on bladders, ureters, or anything perceived as fragile and tubelike.
Frankly, I'm a perfect candidate for one of those stupid girls who has a baby on the bathroom floor, just because I didn't know better.
I'll probably hold off on the urologist until I'm back from the Outer Banks, just so I can see if I live up to this:

Also, I've been having really strange dreams again. It started Friday when my troubled mind conjured up a lovely scene, where I was on an elevator in the tallest building in the world (kindof like Charlie & the Chocolate Factory as Robby pointed out) and my stomach kept dropping (probably the kidney stones moving along) and it became clear to me that we were halfway to the moon, and If we could only figure out a way to get the top of the elevator off then we could simply astral project. Right on.
In another episode of my head, I was pregnant and Robby was in the super secret service. And while he was off completing super secret missions, I found his super secret service handbook and realized he was in real trouble because he was neither organized or prompt--and he didn't own a trench coat--the first three mandates in the rulebook. So as I proceed with labor (I'm certain it's the kidney stones again), I'm all alone, except for his mother, who happens to be Pat Benetar. When the time came, I hit her with my best shot and delivered a very tiny bundle of joy. Off I go to another room to put on my pre-pregnancy clothes and freshen up a bit, and when I return, the baby had been cleaned and much to my dismay..unmistakably a kitten. I awoke thinking, Robby's going to shit when he realizes our child is a cat.
Final F'd up dream entry: Robby and I were driving about looking for new homes to rent and when we arrived at our noon appointment, this man in a purple cloak and dark long hair (very Ozzy) comes around the corner, and when he gets closer to us, I notice that he has a cotton nose like an Indian chief, that is a much darker flesh color than the rest of his face. That was hard to overlook even in non-reality. As he's showing us the house, Robby morphs into my mother, and it is she that will be renting the house with me and not my husband. She immediately begins to bicker about something, which escalates into a huge argument, not much to my surprise. The strangest element of all: Chief Cotton Nose planned on renting the room to us furnished. And his sheets of choice were white with pink rosebuds -- like the Laura Ashley sheets every girl my age had growing up. Ozzy, who knew?

Today's Playlist:

1. Fever--Peggy Lee
2. You Shook Me--AC/DC
3.Hey You--Pink Floyd
4. Mama, Yo Quiero--Ambrose & His Orchestra
5. Do You Really Want to Hurt Me--Culture Club
6. Love Child---Diana Ross
7. Apache--Tommy Seebach
8. And it Stoned Me--Van Morrison