The Sunday Times crossword is lying in my hallway, next to my overnight bag which, if history is any indicator, just may get unpacked before it’s time to go out of town again. I have a sunburn, a sliver in my tush, and mysteriously, a rogue grain of sand in my bellybutton.
“Let’s not go back to New York,” I told the driver of the rent-a-Kia this afternoon. I’d started seeing signs for the City and hit panic mode. Having been in charge of the music, the climate control and the Q&A, I didn’t see any reason I shouldn’t get to pick our destination.
“Where do you want to go instead?”
“Mexico.”
A car passes us and I see a souvenir in the back window — a hat with a band that reads, Puerto Vallarta. This was a sign. But still, we ended up back in the city, and I’m back in my apartment where the fridge is empty, the laundry basket is full and I have zero inclination to remedy either situation.
God, what a rebel I am.
When things have been feeling just so wrong for long enough, a touch of just so right can be a bit of a system shock. A weekend away, free of complication (the Times puzzle aside) and filled with mac n’ cheese, pink fruity cocktails and puppy piles on the sofa watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding make the idea of getting up for work in the morning a new brand of torture.
I mean, even the sliver in my butt is charming in comparison. A totally different kind of pain in the ass.
The only thing that will make this work week bearable will be the pictures that should begin circulating soon – images of dancing to Michael Jackson’s Sweet Young Thing with spoons on our noses and other proof of having spent two solid days doing absolutely nothing and having done it really, really well. You know, like it was my job.
Actually, I think I’m going to go on Monster.com now and see if someone needs me to do that full time. I’d be a pro.
(PS. The whole, butt sliver thing, you think that will just go away on its own?)
tweezers.
welcome back to where everyone knows your name. (very much looking forward to the hopeful ‘big change’ tomorrow, or at least very soon!)
I have a wife, so my silver remover is set in stone, but a question. Who do you call for that duty if you can’t get it. This isn’t exactly a task you give to any dude you might be seeing? Does Ari get this job? Honestly, what’s the protocol?
correction: sliver
(silver remover is actually a much better/funnier image than sliver remover. teeheehee!)
The sliver will probably work its way out, but not before swelling and pus.
You’re gonna need help.
Sliver with one end available? Tweezers.
Embedded under the skin sliver? Sterilize a pin and poke a hole on the non-point-of-entry end. Push sliver out entry-end.
Good luck!
Aw…. SplinterAss is so your new nickname. Looking forward to Tuesday!!
So, is a sliver the same as a splinter? Think of a friend who will either laugh with you not at you or complement your butt (not in a weird way) or both and ask for help with tweezers! Or soak in the bath.
Why is it that when people want to run away, they always want to go to Mexico? I have never heard anyone say, “Please, let’s just get out of here and go to Canada.” Even if Canada is closer.
Try covering the spot overnight with a slightly wet piece of guaze, a wet dressing. It may work its way out without having to ask someone to go after it.
Good luck!
Just what the world needs is another use for duct tape, but if the end of the splinter is sticking out of the skin even a little, but a piece of duct tape on it and wait a minute or two, then pull it off. Splinter should stay with the duct tape.
Want Dr. G to come perform some surgery? Totally free of charge!
Another vote for the tape, although most any kind of tape will do. Stickier the better (and leave the images of models duct-taping their asses for the guys…)
What happened to the big revelation that we were getting on Monday????? I’ve waited all weekend!!!
wow, didn’t mean to send it 3 times!!! That came off a bit “stalkerish” huh?
still waiting…
It’s only because you couldn’t promise we’d have the car back by noon today that we didn’t go to Mexico. So it’s your own damned fault.
When I was little, about 7 or 8, I slid off a overturned row boat and got a sliver in my butt. You really want to get that out ASAP. My mom took mine out. Maybe you can convince yours to visit
.
As much as I loved my “open” relationship with NYC, I also treasured my mini-trips away that reminded me how life is outside the island.
Pretty Young Things, as in P.Y.T….?
The revelation is that Miss Fish will finally declare her love for me.
There, I said it. Surprise spoiled!
aaaaaaaahahahahaha!! what did i tell you?!
someone somewhere owes me money ;~)
Sending good vibes your way…I’ve been in the “hate my job” situation before. Actually I was in that situation right about the time that I discovered your blog, and 8 months later, I can say that I’m very happy to be in my new job. Just as people tell you that there’s “someone” out there for you, there is also “something” – as in a job – out there for you which you will enjoy…GOOD LUCK!
I had a butt sliver when I was about 9 – got it sliding down the bed of a grain truck as the wheat was being dumped…
Anyway, it was really deep, but finally worked its way out – 4 years later! I had to bend over my mother’s lap and have her pull it out!!
Good luck getting your sliver out sooner – and without mom’s assistance!!
argh! i logged onto here this evening to get me some closure, but there’s no closure to be found!
I’d run away to Canada. It’s nicer up there than in Mexico.
I thought the big change happened already: she changed the “26-year-old” to “27-year-old.” Wasn’t that birthday MONTHS ago?
Just kidding.