Tuesdays are Good Days!

Aside from the wonder of reduced admission at movie theatres, Tuesdays bring plenty of goodness! Such as, the sunshine outside, for instance.

Or, even better yet, the prognosis that Boyfriend’s on his way back to bein’ two-legged!

Yep, you heard it here first. I’m soon to be not dating a cripple. Awesome! He can do partial weight-bearing and in six weeks or so, he’ll be able to walk with just a cane for a bit. (It figures that his favourite TV show is House.) It’ll be a while after that before he’s a “Go-Go-Go” man again, but shit, anything’s better than what his life was reduced to these past few weeks, and I, for one, am elated!

Aside from that, I got my haircut. Remember the rant? Yeah, well. Fuck that! I didn’t go back to my $60 guy, but instead went to a hair school and paid $8.56. HA. And it looks CUTE! I’m a punk rock girl. Without product, I’ll look like a Chia pet, but with, I look pretty darned kewt, if I may say so myself. Plus, it looks almost identical to how my hair looks in the Guy’s fave pic o’ me. All good, that.

I was boppin’ down Main Street on my scooter, singing — as I often do. If you see a Eurotrash girl zipping around Vancouver and singing: Janis Joplin (“Oh, Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes-Benz…”) or the Hip (“And it’s part hard–hard to remember, and it’s part hard–hard to say…”) or Tom Waits (“Jesus gonna be here…”) or anything else along those lines, just shout out a “HEY, STEFF!” and I’ll wave.

Today, I was spoofing Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man.” It went something like, “I am punk-rock girl!” And insert a few head bangs right there. Then I sang out the stupid riffs. You have no idea how much I hate that song! Still, it was a hoot.

I’m sure I look like a freak when I’m in a great mood, zipping around town, belting out the classics, but shit, you gotta make your own fun, and I make mine. Besides, my scooter’s fucking LOUD, man. It’s like an early warning system for the Boyfriend, who can hear me approaching from two blocks away, he claims. I have to be singing LOUD for y’all to hear. And today I was.

Well, a friend’s coming over and some celebratory beer is to be had. It is a Good day. On top of that, I’ve finally cracked the top 10,000 blogs in the world, according to Technorati. Who knew, huh? So, THANK YOU to all of you who keep coming back for more. Gluttons for punishment, y’all are, and I loves it so. Y’all rock and rock and rock all the night long.

Oh, you wanted SEX. RIGHT. What made ya think this was a sex blog? Oh, ‘cos it is. Right. Well, come back later, my friends, and I’ll tie you up. A little bit of bondage or something shall be posted at some point tonight, after I’ve had some beers and pizza and chill time out in the world. Happy Tuesday, kids. Don’t spend it all in one place.

12 thoughts on “Tuesdays are Good Days!

  1. Haaaaaaa

    Glad you’re in such a good mood. I love it when something cheaper makes me happier.

    Can’t wait for the bondage post – will be taking notes for the weekend. πŸ˜‰

  2. Tashe

    Yay!

    Yay!!!

    I bet He’s on top of the world right now…

    Good for him, he deserves it. Only someone who has been incapacitated in such a way really understands what it does to you…when you’re young and vibrant and stopped from doing the things that you really love to do; things you took for granted “yesterday”.

    “Hey Boyfriend?

    I’m really happy for you. Celebrate your mobility, but within reason please, don’t go too fast.”

    Scribe, things will be different from now on…

    Yay! Yah! Yee Ha!

    Happy Tuesday.

    ~Tashe

  3. scribe called steff

    Haaaaa– I think I’ll get something up tonight, but I’ve had a beer and I’m all sleepy-like now. πŸ˜›

    Tashe– HA. No more sugar for you!

    I haven’t spoken to him since he got out of the doc’s, and he’s probably been put through the paces by physio, so he’s probably just Relieved and Pleased. Still, ALL good. πŸ™‚

  4. Haaaaaaa

    Jeez am I dense. I shouldn’t post comments at the office when I’m distracted. I forgot to wish the guy well. He reads my blog and I don’t have the decency to say congrats when he is released from bondage (pun intended).

    What are you gonna make out of the titanium plates when they come off?

  5. scribe called steff

    The titanium plates are INSIDE him until the day he dies. Airports just became a hassle, and MRIs will be limb-threatening. They’ve wrapped the tibia and fibula each in their own plate, from what I understand.

    He didn’t have a cast or anything, just wasn’t able to put weight on it at ALL, and has two long-assed incisions on either side of his lower leg/ankle area.

    The uncertainty was whether the bones would knit, in which case they would have had to move the plates and re-set them, bolting them in again.

    So, nope, no plates come out. There’s probably scar tissue forming over them as I type, fortunately.

  6. Haaaaaaa

    Total drag. Plates forever. My nephew had plates on the hip and they took them out. I, for some reason, thought the guy woukld get to go sans plates after the bones mended.

    Lucky the airports will probably go to X-Rays after a few years instead of those ridiculous metal detectors that don’t really do anything.

  7. a concerned citizen

    just for the sake of didacticism, IronMan was a Black Sabbath tune. Iron Maiden wasn’t formed ’til about a decade later. Otherwise, great blog!

  8. scribe called steff

    I HATE being wrong about shit I KNOW. DUH. I totally know that’s Black Sabbath, too. My brother used to fucking annoy the hell out of me with it. Oh well. Fixed it. Must’ve been thinking “Iron” and just slipped.

    Ha — Sadly, no. I doubt airports will go to x-rays, there are health concerns with those. Cancer, etc. Too many people would object, methinks.

  9. The boyfriend

    Yeah, the difference between Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden is that Iron Maiden fuckin’ rules.

    And it turns out that I was either misinformed or too drugged out to hear what they were telling me in the hospital: I only have one plate, on my fibula, with five screws. I have two very large screws in my tibia — so large that they might as well be rods. In any case, they’re all very, very permanent.

    (Your website is excellent, btw, Haaaaaa.)

    What Steff has not mentioned is that I’m going to be cooking for her tomorrow night. Simple meal (and Steff’s bringing the side dishes), but I’ve been wanting to do this for six weeks.

  10. scribe called steff

    I didn’t want to hype it up until we saw how your day went, or how I saw how you were doing tomorrow, in case you turned out to be a little run-down, that’s all. πŸ˜›

    But, okay, it’s officially in writing now, and yes, I’m looking forwards to it. I’m a sucker for free food.

    And, you know, if you wanted to get screwed, you should have just told me sooner, you silly boy. A little extreme. You could’ve bribed me with chocolate and I’d have surely acquiesced.

  11. kelly b.

    Is your scooter beat down with kind of a lepeord print seat?? If so I saw you a couple of weeks ago. If not, I thought that one was kinda cool…

  12. scribe called steff

    Heh, no. This is my scooter.

    I think it’s kinda cool. πŸ™‚

    If I ever have the cash, I’d love to spend a few hundred to have it custom painted in metallic olive green so it looks like an old Euro army scooter. I fucking love it at this time of yr, though.

    I have a new sticker on it that reads, “The last time we mixed religion and politics, people were burned at the stake.” Ha.

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