So, the insurance repair estimator stopped by to see my car this morning. They’ve been working off my old name, but there was basically no way I was going to even try to present boy this morning when he showed up. In fact, I made sure to wear a padded bra and put on a little makeup. When he asked about me being in the hospital when my mom had the accident, I just stated I was having surgery. He replies, “I thought ‘poor guy’, already being in the hospital when your car was in an accident.”
That did well for the ol’ ego. I saw his paperwork which had down ‘Mr.’ written in front of my name, so he had a preconception of who I was, but even the image of me 2 weeks post-op from Dr. O still had him calling me a ‘poor guy’.
Since my mom has already flown back to the Midwest, I had to dig the tripod out to take the daily picture. I leaned over on the other side of my bed to get the tripod, and WHAM! ran right into the handlebar of my bike. At first the sensation was half ‘screaming pain’ but the other half was ‘hmmm...I think I hit my head’. What was really weird is that I couldn’t tell exactly where I hit my head. It felt on the side sorta, but also on top. After looking in the mirror, I saw that I hit the upper outer portion of my forehead, where the skin has only had half the normal sensation. I’ve run the top of my head into stuff so far, and I realize that my head isn’t going anywhere, but I can’t tell that I am touching anything. It’s a weird sensation.
Claire invited me up to the city to watch a movie at her place with Amy as well. /Amber/ also sent a note to me this afternoon wondering if I was up for dinner or something, but I told her I was headed to the city and invited her along. She picked me up, and we cruised up to the city in her fancy little car. Claire had already ordered a pizza, and after it arrived, I slowly tore into a few pieces with a fork and knife. I sliced the portions so that they would fit into my mouth, and would hopefully be small enough so that I could chew them. I made it through 4 slices, but I am going to be sore tomorrow. That’s the solidest (yes, we laughed at that word) food I have eaten in over 2 weeks. We also spent 1 hour and 40 minutes of my life watching Lost in Translation. Somewhere after the first 5 minutes, my translation got lost. It was way too slow for me. Sure, I like artsy movies, but I like dialogue. Throw me a bone...keep me awake. Don’t just show people staring out a window, or being lost in the city, or whatever...about a hundred different ways. Yes, we realize the two of them are utterly bored. So was I. Usually I pay $10 to see a movie...at least entertain me. Anyway, thumbs down to the movie. OK, yeah, there’s nothing wrong with the movie...but there was nothing that made me want to ever watch it again.
During the initial part of the movie, I asked if the husband was the loser brother off of Friends. Claire clarified, “You mean Phoebe’s brother?”
“Yep, that’s him. Why does he always play loser roles?” I asked.
“Because he looks like a loser,” laughed Claire.
“Hey now, we need to look beyond our physical looks.” blah...blah...blah “When was the last time Bill Murray actually played a winner?” I asked.
“Ghost Busters,” blurted Claire.
“Jeez...that was like 1984.”
Whew, that’s a long time ago. I have no idea where I’m rolling with this topic, but are we always typecast into what other people see, even though we may be this entirely different person on the inside. My inner person is on the outside of my face right now - sorta -, but she’s been beat up a little. Give her a little time to recover.
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