August 10th, 15:52 | About being normal and scared of bunnies
So, it's been a productive weekend. My flight got cancelled by LGA, my mom stabbed me, I had a nightmare about being eaten alive by a bunny. It's been good times. Need a little more detail? I think so.
So let's start with my mom. The New York thing fills me with rage. On Sunday, my mom volunteered to help man the Diabetes Awareness booth on The Danforth and her task was to measure blood sugar levels (and then send people to get their blood pressure measured at the next table). Whose idea this was, I have no idea, but I question its wisdom, just a little. ("Just had 8 baklavas, sir? Step right up and let's see what your blood sugar's at, shall we?") Anyway, I've always had this mild fear that I'm actually pre-diabetic (this may or may not have to do with my predilection for cramming anything sugar-based into my yap) so I wanted to have my blood sugar level tested.
(You must keep in mind that I hate needles, so having blood drawn at the lab, and having them measure it was not a viable option.)
Anyway. So after helping chan move into her classy new digs, my dad and I were supposed to pick my mom up (via public transportation). We were about 7 minutes late, due to my need to shower after hauling shit around in 30-degree weather, but happily due to the booth's popularity (??) my mom was still there when we got to the party. After waiting for the older man in front of me to hobble off towards the blood pressure folks, I skipped forward and promptly demanded that my mom stab me.
The nurse next to her frowned, and looked about ready to unleash a lecture on me starting with "Excuse me, Miss, but you need to fill out one of these forms..." until my mom, shaking her head, explained that I was her daughter and measured me. I'm a 4.4 people -- and normal is anywhere between 4 and 6. You heard it here first! I am clinically normal! HA!
Okay, next: the bunny. No idea what I'm talking about? Look here. Now. I, personally, find that thing scary as all Hell, and it doesn't help that I didn't get to watch the movie all the way through, just glimpse little clips here and there. So naturally, I stopped watching (because I know when something's going to keep me up with sheer panic), and figured I'll catch the cinematic masterpiece another day. And then catch the Director's Cut of it.
Anyway. So the next day my dad asked how the movie was (I'd been all excited, because I kept meaning to watch it) and I had to tell him that I wussed out on watching it because I was scared of the bunny, and didn't want to not be able to sleep, what with the having to work the next day and all. How sympathetic was my father towards my situation? Did he mock His Own Daughter with schoolyard contempt? Yup. Well, at least there was no pointing. But that's my family, folks: ridiculed by my dad, stabbed by my mom. I am such the suburbanite princess.
About New York? That's just going to have to wait for another time...
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