Tuesday, February 25, 2014

You Learn Something New Every Day

Recovering from surgery (whenever your husband isn't at work and is thus making sure you don't do anything strenuous) is really fucking boring.  Over the past year, I've gotten a hairline fracture in my foot while running, had my first experience with diabetic ketoacidosis while accidentally over-ellipticizing at the gym when my blood sugar was higher than 500, and battled the flu while taking care of my son who ALSO had the flu.  All of these things were much more difficult than this stupid surgery recovery, but none were even a smidgen as boring.  To fight off some of the mind-numbing frustration that comes from being a person-who-hates-to-sit-still but who is stuck doing nothing much more eventful than an easy walk around the block, I have read every book I could get my hands on, watched every television show that does not feature a Kardashian, and looked up endless recipes of things that I could surely cook if only I was allowed to carry in the groceries from the car that I would have to buy in order to cook them.  IT'S FUCKING MISERABLE.  So, finally, as a last resort, I started the "Random Haley Google."  This is where, whenever I catch myself having mentally wandered off, I stop my thinking cycle and I Google whatever I was thinking about.  What I have learned from this is that no matter how fucked up I think something is that I've been thinking about, there are always at least a handful of other people out there who have, at some point, been thinking the exact same fucked up thing.

THANK GOD.

A LIST OF RANDOM HALEY GOOGLES THAT I WENT BACK AND PULLED FROM MY COMPUTER BECAUSE I KNOW YOU ARE ALL TERRIBLY INTERESTED IN WHAT I THINK ABOUT AND ALSO BECAUSE I WANT A PHYSICAL RECORD OF WHY EXACTLY I WAS THINKING THE THINGS I WAS THINKING WHEN I GOOGLED SAID TOPIC JUST IN CASE THE AUTHORITIES EVER APPROACH ME AND CONFISCATE MY LAPTOP

 1. How intelligent do you really have to be to become a surgeon?
         This was probably the first thing I looked up after Dr. K told me I should have a hysterectomy.  I had seen her degrees and her board certifications, but a piece of paper telling me that you went to undergrad at U of A only tells me that you're a dumb redneck who doesn't have sense enough to get into a university that isn't in the shithole that is Alabama. Furthermore, I had FB stalked her, only to find that her profile photo was of her at a Halloween party, complete with pigtails and a cheerleader uniform.  HOLY FUCK.  THIS IS WHO IS CUTTING ME OPEN?  It only made matters worse that I have a handful of friends who are surgeons and, while I wouldn't call any of them dumb, I also wouldn't refer to any of them as the sharpest tools in the shed.  And I SURE AS HELL wouldn't want to put my life (or uterus) in any of their hands, especially when I've seen most of them stumbling home drunk after a neighborhood cookout.  But I digress.
       What I found out from Google was that really you don't have to be all that smart at all to be a surgeon.  You have to have a decent work ethic.  You have to be willing to study.  But actual intelligence?  Nope.  Not entirely necessary.  AWESOME.  THAT MAKES ME FEEL GREAT.  Next time I injure myself (or need an organ cut out), I'm going to get tanked, give Blaker a knife and the stapler, and let him have at it, seeing as how he's the most intelligent person I've ever met.   JESUS.  That further lessens my faith in oh, so many surgeons.

2.  Do I really have to wait 6 weeks after a hysterectomy to have sex?
       No.  Not if either my husband has a very tiny penis (he does not-- I asked if I could post a photo but he said no, so you'll just have to trust me), or I want to have to go to the ER and request to have the sutures re-sutured in my Queen Victoria (I do not desire to do this, particularly at Murderview).   And I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you WHY I Googled this, unless you are a complete and total idiot, in which case GO FUCK YOURSELF, BECAUSE MY BLOG IS ONLY FOR SMART PEOPLE (AND SURGEONS).

3.  How much wine can I mix with Percocet before it kills me?
       Let's first remember that I don't NEED the Percocet.  Seriously.  Dr. K made me throw back two of them preventatively when I decided I was high-tailing it out of the hospital only three hours after the hysterectomy, which was fabulous because I was high as a damn kite for the rest of the evening until I promptly passed out in my bed from being up since the crack of dawn.  It's fun to be high on Percocet-- I get so pleasant and happy and just plain lovely.  This is in direct opposition to my usual self, who is unpleasant and sarcastic and just plain malevolent.  (By the way, that's my favorite word--malevolent.)  So I save the Percocet for times when I NEED to be nice but it's JUST SO HARD, like trips to TN (note that I will still have most of them until my Mom visits again, after which they will be depleted).  Anyway, you know me and wine-- the two of us will never break up, so I might as well figure out how much the two can overlap, no?
       According to the prescription bottle, one should NOT mix ANY alcohol with Percocet.  According to Google, one can mix ONE GLASS of wine with a couple of Percocet and be okay.  According to HALEY, who thinks that Google isn't much of a risk-taker, one can, actually, mix an entire bottle of a good red blend with two Percocet and still wake up the next morning.  (Slightly drunk and still high, but also really pleasant and happy.)  *Disclaimer:  If any of you try this and die, it's because you are not as seasoned a drinker or Percocet-taker as I am.  Sorry for the confusion.  And the death.

4.  Are there any tropical islands that do not have any snakes?
       I'm really cold here in Virginia.  Thinking about it, I'm cold almost anywhere I go.  I despise snakes more than anything on this planet.  So I keep prodding B to load us up and move us to a year-round warm climate that has no snakes.  B says such a place does not exist.  I say, "The hell it doesn't."  Google says that Madeira Island, just off the coast of Portugal, is such a place.  Now, I got REALLY excited about this until I went to the Madeira Island website and saw that the cover photo on the home page IS OF A BUNCH OF PEOPLE SITTING AROUND AT TABLES  BY THE SEA WEARING LONG SLEEVES AND SWEATERS.  Yeah, you heard me.  Sweaters.  WHAT THE FUCK, GOOGLE?  THAT DOESN'T SOUND REAL "WARM CLIMATE" TO ME.  Some further research informed me that Hawaii COULD be such a place, as it has no native snakes, but that people keep finding them now because other people are bringing them over from other places (despite the 200k fine if you get busted) and turning them loose.  WHAT KIND OF AN ASSHOLE WOULD DO THAT?  That's pretty much one of the dumbest things I've ever heard.  Are there that many people who want to take their pet snake on vacation with them, then set it free on the island?  Is someone doing snake dead drops?  Seriously.  LEAVE THE ECOSYSTEM ALONE, PEOPLE.  IT'S ALREADY IN BAD ENOUGH SHAPE AS IT IS.  

5.  How do you keep your kid from becoming an asshole once he/she is a teenager?
       Google says there is no way to avoid this.  Bellamy is 10 and on the express train to Hormone Town.  When Bells hits puberty, all hell is going to break loose.  My first thought was, "Oh, I'll just make sure I'm dead by then."  Then I realized that honestly, since I don't smoke and I wear my seatbelt, unless I'm gonna off myself (I'm not) then I really only have maybe, like, a fifty-fifty shot of that happening (please note that statistics were never my strong point, which only makes me SO MUCH more interesting to you all).  So if I can't be dead, I'm going to have to have a plan in place by 2016, which is the year Belly hits 13.  The cherry on top is that a mere two years later when she is 15, Sutt will be turning 13, and then we'll have two teenagers on our hands for a few exciting (i.e.  fucking miserable) years.  As of this moment,  B and I have no idea how we're going to live through it.  Please feel free to email me with any suggestions that you may feel are worthy of our consideration.

6.  Will drinking a ton of wine actually make me fat?
       I've been a solid wine drinker now for almost 12 years.  I'm not fat, but I'm willing to admit that from time to time (before I'm a few gallons in) I wonder, "Huh.  I wonder if all this wine will make me fat."  I wasn't sure I could trust Google on this one (who knows when the National Liver Association--if there IS such a thing--could be manipulating our Google system) but I Googled it anyway.  What I found was a whole bunch of articles and scientific studies claiming that, while wine has a lot of empty calories, women who drink more actually TEND TO BE THINNER.  (Please note that this is not because they have cirrhosis and have lost their appetites-- I mean, sure, that comes later, but during these studies their livers were still alive and kickin'.)  WHAT THE WHAT?  I don't know how it all magically works, ladies, but go ahead and top off your glass.  Cheers!

7. Who is playing Four in the Divergent movie?
       Does anybody besides me watch "Vanderpump Rules" on Bravo?  (I told you I would watch anything without a Kardashian-- here's proof.)  If you do, then you know the story of poor Tom Sandoval, the Sur bartender who just couldn't quit cheating on his girlfriend with bottle service girls in Vegas, yet still had his heart broken when the crazy bitch girlfriend screwed his best friend in Tom's own living room, while Tom was in the next room asleep.  ANYWAY.  The whole time I was reading the Divergent series, the character Four looked like Tom Sandoval in my head.  I don't know why.  Four is tall, Tom Sandoval looks average.  Four has really short hair, Tom Sandoval's favorite gift of all time is his flat-iron (true story-- I saw this on an episode last season).  Four's blue eyes are repeatedly mentioned in the books, Tom Sandoval's look.....brown, maybe?  They're dark, I think.  Four is a badass, Tom Sandoval uses more skin care products than any woman I've ever met AND he gets regular spray tans.  ANYWAY (again), there's no real reason for me to picture Tom Sandoval as Four.  And considering his IMDB page, there's no reason to think that he has the acting talent to pull off the role (I, honest to God, think his best-rated movie was ranked at a half-star.  Not joking.)  But THAT'S WHAT'S IN MY HEAD.  It is NOT, however, what is in the movie.  In the movie, Four is played by Theo James, best known for his short run in the series "Goldenboy," although to the Downton Abbey fans, he's the Turk whose bed Lady Mary snuck into in Season 1.  Theo James is handsome.  He's a decent actor.  I think he'll be an okay Four (despite also having dark eyes) but I CAN'T SEEM TO WRAP MY HEAD AROUND IT ALL.  Maybe it's the wine and Percocet mixture coursing through my veins.  But it's weird for me to think about.

That's enough Google for you today.  I still have A LOT to talk about regarding the trip to Italy, but I haven't sorted it all out in my head yet.  I kept a journal while we were traveling, though, and I'm going to bust that out and take it from there.

Soon.  I promise.




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