Because of the people who blogged at Xanga, my world is bigger.  Thank you. 

Twitter: @L_Happenstance

Alrighty.  For now, I’m going to blog here: 

http://integrityhell666.wordpress.com 

ETA 7/5/13:  I’ve learned I can add non-wordpress sites to the reader there so if you’re signed up with blogger, tumblr, etc and wouldn’t mind me adding you, let me know!

For my Friday off, I was hoping for the results of my MRA but it was not to be.  Tests will be in Monday.  I swam 3500 meters earlier that morning then went for a massage which was great for my shoulders.  I tried to cram in a nap but I ended up getting sucked into watching This Must Be the Place, absolutely fascinated by Sean Penn’s Robert Smith look.  It was an ok movie but his gentle speaking delivery reminded me of a fried out friend who surprises me once every couple of years with a 180 of character.

I picked up Mabe and we were stuck in traffic for about 35 minutes before we could cross the bridge and make our way to Indianapolis for the Gogol Bordello concert.  I was nervous my leg wouldn’t keep me upright so we made plans to sit in the back and enjoy the sights.  That’s not me. We finally arrived around 8:45, grabbed some beers and headed towards the stage.  Mabe said my name when a couple of heads whipped around and stared HARD.  Familiarity.  Something kindred.  It was one of my best friends from elementary school, Ellen!!!  She’s now an artist (a fine painter from the works she showed me on her phone) and married with kids.  All these wonderful feelings came back along with memories of how our friend Amy, Ellen and I were going to grow up to be a dancer, artist and musician, respectively.  Amy’s a lawyer, Ellen is what she dreamed of being and I’m . . . not a musician.  But I still love music.  We’ll never break up.

The opening band was noodle-y.  I could get into the groove of it buzzing on my overly expensive beers but I didn’t catch the name.  This is the third noodle-y opening band that I’ve heard over the last couple of months.  Is that the thing now?

When they were done, we had a hard decision to make – do we give up our prime concert spots or do we give up to the Gods of Pee?  Pee wins every time.  When we got back we could only get a place to the left of the stage.  We were warned very early about the guys that were rough.  There were several.  If we stayed in that spot, I was warned we would be moshed flat.  We slowly made our way to the right front of the stage, about 8-9 rows of people back.  There would be no sitting in the back and Mabe said she knew I’d never go for it.  For some reason, short people were congregating to the right!  It was dotted with some pure giants but for the most part, it was definitely a below 5’5″ section.  I’m glad we stayed on that side.  The big guys moshed but they were awesome about making sure the little peeps weren’t trampled. 

Then the concert started.  It was a huge wave of crazy energy.  This band is a force of nature, a mass of pain and love for life of the immigrant. 

If my labrum wasn’t torn before the concert, it probably is now!!  I don’t know where my pain went but my energy level spiked up and I was pogo dancing, jumping, screaming, fists up solidarity throwing and becoming one with the sweaty masses.  No way I’m sitting in the back.  This is not that kind of band.

At the edge of the mosh pit, I met a 60 year old woman.  Isn’t she beautiful?!  We danced and sang and hugged and twirled a lot.  She brought her 26 year old son who was one of the Tall Protectors of the Small.  I love everything about her right now.  I wished I got her name and contact information, we bonded on kids and music and she interpreted some of the Russian for me and really, I felt so much admiration for her.  I want to be 60 in the mosh pit.  But I didn’t get her contact info. 

(That’s as good a pic as I’ve got of whatshisname.  It’s blurry because we’re dancing and screaming too much.)

Instead I got this guy’s phone number.  (Let me back up here, Christoph and I are in an open relationship, a mutual decision since we live on different continents and sometimes go over a year without seeing each other.)  This guy was a load of fun and slowly got me to the front row.  Fun to talk to, fun to dance with, just there for a good time.  I don’t know his name at all.  But near the end of the concert he kept kissing the back of my neck and holding my hands, trying to pull me into a kiss. Yeah.  It was fucking hot.  The whole happy energy with the pecs, abs, smile.  Oi.  All I had to do was turn my head a little and this would turn into a way different post of living in the moment or screwing a psycho.  But no.  I didn’t do that.  Because.  Because because because.  He’s 24.  And I was on the rag. 

Yep.  That’s right.  I could be his mom and I was on my period.  And it freaked me the hell out.  It’s a Kristin Wiig movie waiting to happen.

And the only reason I know his age (I knew he was over 21 from the beer) was because he asked if I was over 18.  Look, I know it’s dark at concerts but my god, it’s not that dark for me to look like a teenager.  Although I did get sent to a room for AP orientation when Kiddo was in high school.  It all has to do with the hair, I think.  It’s got a wild life of its own. 

(Front row for the encore – Alcohol)

Two other guys physically picked me up because they thought I was cute.  When I say picked me up, it was way up in the air.  Whee!!!!

Ah.  I found his name, it’s “Fondling Guy” in my phone.  Maybe I should text him my tits.  Just kidding, those bloated things?!!!

Anyway, I’m about to hit a busy patch at work again.  I need to get to work and establish a new blog.  I’ll probably post the results of my test and that will be my last post here.  You guys are the best.  I hope our paths cross again soon.

Today I had the same team working on my contrast dye injection from October 2012.  Dr. S, whose nephew is a friend of my sister, my friend Monica and a tech were in the room.  Probably a minute after the second injection, I knew.  The whole area numbed and when the patient feels better during this part of test that brings the chances up of finding a tear. 

The MRI tech was way better than the last one.  She gave me forewarning of each test and how long it would be so I’d have a chance to shift my position if I was feeling stiff or uncomfortable.  At one point, there was an involuntary knee jerk that freaked me the hell out and we had to redo one scan but it was only 4 minutes.  Even though I had earplugs, that machine was loud.  The steady, mechanical clatter brought me to two things:  Philip Glass and dubstep.  I was having a concert in my head.  Overall, the MRI’s took about 50 minutes.  It was a long afternoon of paperwork, shots and waiting and I just scarfed down a grilled cheese sandwich since I hadn’t eaten all day. 

What now?  I don’t know.  I just told Christoph and it’s distressing.  Funny and distressing.  “Well, honey, I don’t know – just fly over here because if it’s a groin tear, it won’t make a difference if sex makes it worse since I’d need surgery to repair it anyway.  Do you want me to get you that pamphlet of alternate positions for post-surgery?”  I mean, come on.  For somebody so creative, the alternate positions thing is throwing him for a loop.  I told him to start doing yoga.  Not sure if he took me seriously or not. 

I’m L_Happenstance there.  Add me if you’d like – I tweet absolutely nothing of value but I’m there a lot for your whining pleasure.

Where is everybody’s alternate blogs?  I’m collecting links.  I have to find a new place for my google reader too.  I’m using Old Reader right now. 

Fun

I finally heard from the woman whose house I watched for a couple of years after seven months of no contact and she said she didn’t realize I’d moved out, how could I leave without telling her.

So I forwarded her 3 e-mails including an e-mail chain saying I was moving giving 10 weeks notice with a monetary offer she never accepted. 

Done.

ETA:  She wrote back and said no worries.  She thinks it was wishful thinking that I changed my mind.  But she backpedaled and tried to dig nails in but they didn’t stick.  All she needed to do was hire a power of attorney but she wants to sell her US house from overseas.  She did that with a car and the guy she sold the car to couldn’t get a title for it because she was overseas.  She stopped taking his calls.  This was in 2011 and he still can’t get a title.  Well, not legally. 

I told the doctor I tripped instead of telling him I went salsa dancing and may have re-ripped my labrum demonstrating how to turn and stay in step while slightly tipsy on a lot of beer, vodka, rum, cheap sparkling wine and more rum.

My OKC friend, Tiff, has siblings who are paramedics there and the cause near and dear to her is animal rescue.  When I get more information, I’ll post how people can help.  But in general, she’s directing to donate to the Red Cross which is what most other sources are saying.  I remember ’99.  My heart goes out to everyone there.  I can’t imagine going through this twice.

Since my child is grown and semi-flown the coop, the one who greets me after a long, long, long day at work is my dog, Pocky.  Long suffering pooper, he saves half his food for the evening so he can eat dinner with me.  No joke.  Last week, after a very long night where I got home from work around 11:30pm and went straight to bed, I heard this loud clanging sound.  It was Pocky bringing his food bowl up the stairs so he could eat in the bedroom near me.  He’s only 14 pounds so this was a big task for him.  Right now, he’s laying next to my leg where I have my ice pack for my hip.  Good dog.