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Two-Hand Fluke

Mood: Itchy, Scratchy!
Drinking: Stale Tea

Things I have only recently discovered you really need two working hands to accomplish with any measure of success:

1. Ponytailing one’s own hair. Or anyone else’s, really.
2. Walking one’s dog past a growly Rottweiler. (Or, let’s face it, a growly teacup poodle.)
3. Typing with some semblance of speed.
4. Buttoning one’s own jeans.
5. Assembling two-piece earrings. (The ones with hooks are A-OK.)
6. Opening jars of pickles. Or bottles of water. Or jars of jam. Or anything requiring any variation of the hold-and-twist maneuver.
7. Talking on the cell whilst typing.
8. Talking on the cell whilst driving.
9. Talking on the cell whilst walking the dog.
10. Talking on the cell whilst doing anything other than talking on the cell.
11. Shaving the armpit that belongs to the arm that still works.
12. Socks. Socks are bitches.
13. Tights. See above re: socks.
14. Tying one’s shoes.
15. Zipping any damn zipper.
16. Drying one’s back.
17. Applying fingernail polish to all 10 fingers.
18. Making a sandwich.
19. Flat-ironing hair.
20. Curling hair.
21. Doing much of anything at all to make hair even remotely attractive.
22. We aren’t even going to discuss one-handed bra handling.
23. Pouring liquid from a container which does not have a handle.
24. Sweeping.
25. Shoveling.
26. Scooping.
27. Digging.
28. Clapping.
29. Squeezing.
30. Waltzing.
31. Swimming.
32. Bicycling.
33. Motorcycling. (Alas, Shirley has been dust-covered!!)
34. Eyebrow tweezing.
35. Nose blowing.
36. Putting change away speedily at checkout counter while other customers huff impatiently behind you.
37. Eating a burrito, sans fork.
38. Peeling a banana.
39. Carrying popcorn, milk duds, AND soda into movie theater. (Without spillage!)
40. Flipping the double bird.
41. Giving two thumbs up.
42. Throwing both hands in the air and waving them about as if one doesn’t even care.

And I could go on, but it’s just getting ridiculous.

Mark this date down and circle it twice: Thursday, April 6th, 2006. The day the cast comes OFF!

I know my new robot arm won’t be completely functional by then but damn! It will feel so good to straighten out my elbow.

-Lo, who does, indeed, enjoy cheese with her whine.

Meet Alice!

Mood: On Hold
Drinking: Sweet Tea

She’s here!

Alice is my middle name is up and ready for viewing on The Cinepoems page.

This was our biggest shoot ever, with fancy costumes and a big crew and a lot of mystified passersby. So be sure to stick around at the end for the credits…I promise they’re not at all boring!

What are you waiting for? Go meet Alice.

A quick P.S. for the PC users…I know you prefer Windows to Quicktime, and I’m working on it. Soon you’ll have more options.

-Lo, who does not prefer blondes.

Cyborg Relations

Mood: Bed-bound
Drinking: Done for the day

I come to you a different girl, for I am now part metal.

No. Seriously.

The surgery on my twice-broken wrist was a week ago this past Tuesday. I’ve never had surgery before, and I can’t say that I recommend it. From the anesthesia that makes you throw up to the “dissolvable” stitches to the yards of bloody gauze and complete loss of dignity, it’s all rather unpleasant.

The good news is that my bones are on the mend, thanks to a very impressive bit of metal that now lives under my skin. On the x-ray, it looks like a robot arm. Or a garden rake. Or possibly a toothbrush. I plan to get a wallet-size print of the film so I can carry around constant proof of my cyborg innards.

Meanwhile, I’m still a one-handed typist, Boy is still struggling with the finer points of ponytail making, and at least three of my girlfriends have had to help me re-button my pants after a visit to the loo. The silver lining: All my ubergoth arm warmers are getting a second life as sexy cast covers.

In more exciting happenings, M and I are almost finished with Alice is my middle name, the newest cinepoem. She may even debut as soon as tomorrow. Hold your breath.

-Lo, whose left arm still says “yes” in bright blue marker — they scribbled on me for surgery, but now I’m castified and can’t scrub it off.