Saturday, January 15, 2011

It is NOT all it’s cracked up to be

Well, it has been two weeks since my last confession. A considerable amount has happened since then. I will divulge chronologically. After I recovered from New Year's eve, the next thing we did was go into the travel agent to finalise our flights. Unfortunately we couldn't get visas to Saudi Arabia – it seems they aren't interested in tourism, although they are interested in cash, it would have cost over $200 if I had been able to meet the ridiculous criteria. I don't know why they work so hard to keep everyone out – I can't imagine anyone wanting to sneak to and steal sand. They don't even have good camels anymore; they have to buy them from us. So, anyway, the chick at STA travel was *amazing* and so helpful with our situation, even though it was a giant pain in the ass. I highly recommend them if you're wanting wicked service.
So, after that stress was lifted, it just came down to crossing jobs off the list. Next job: play mascot at Mitchi's hockey game. The Adelaide Assassins are the local women's ice hockey team in the National Women's Ice Hockey League. There are teams from Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane too. I used to play, but I retired at the end of last season, after we won for the fifth year in a row. I honestly was never very good – I'm what's called a grinder, or a systems player. That basically means that instead of a nice range of skills, I have really only one, but I do it decently. Kind of like Rainman. I was good at passing. Not scoring, not receiving a pass, not really skating even. I just got the puck and passed it to the talented people to put in the net. I got slow and it wasn't fun anymore (especially after a taste of derby), so I 'retired' (guffaw) and now I am simply a fan. I have to admit, I miss playing recreational hockey, but I don't miss playing in that league. I've kinda gone off hockey altogether at the moment actually. The local league-run mixed competition is a joke, and the politics make it a shitty experience. Plus, the vast majority of male hockey players think they're Wayne Gretzky and have the ego to boot. I don't expect any of them to be offended by this, cos the ones I'm talking about most likely can't read and also, reading a blog would mean tearing oneself away from the mirror. I have time for about 5 of them, coincidentally the ones that give a shit about supporting the women that support them when they play. Anyway, what I'm getting to in a roundabout way is that although I will always support the women and get to any games I can, I probably wouldn't have dressed up like an assassin if Mitchi wasn't playing this year. She worked so hard to get people to the games on the weekend of the 8th and 9th. She succeeded. The Saturday game was packed. I've never seen that many people come to a women's hockey game here. Usually I know everyone in the crowd, cos they are the parents of the players. In addition to the bums in seats, Mitchi also organised a mini pee wee game in the first period break, and a shootout with some Adelaide Adrenaline (men's league) players in the second. There were raffle prizes also, the Adrenaline mascot (a giant puck called Pump) and me, the Iceassin. Behold my glorious costume:

You will notice that I am wearing my derby knee and elbow pads. This was because I had a plan to slide along the ice firing the cap guns Mitchi had organised for me. Great idea, yes. Did I execute it? Uh, not quite. I had a little practice on some cut but not wet ice earlier that day, and it went well – skate fast, jump to my knees, then elbows, and slide along on the plastic, bang bang bang. Got to my dramatic entrance in the game and it went like this – fell to knees (holy balls I am going fast, there is no way I'm going to stop, let alone get to my elbows), put down hands to try to retard the speed, hands slipped out quicker than two whores in a jelly bathtub and I was on my guts, careening towards the boards. Thankfully, my cape went in the water, and I think it slowed me down. I managed to get back to my knees, gave it a go at pretending I meant it, and continued skating. From then on, I stuck to knee slides, on dry ice. The guns wouldn't fire properly, which was a bit anticlimactic, but Mitchi also got swords, so I gave one to Pump and we fought. I won. Here is me challenging him.

So, that was certainly an experience. Mitchi played the best I've ever seen her and I almost burst with pride. I also sweated like a madman in that getup.

The next event in my fortnight of blerg was that I had to have a colonoscopy and endoscopy, both in the same sitting. Joy. I honestly wasn't nervous. Lucky I didn't know it was going to be horrid. The doctor told me to eat wheat the week before, cos they were testing to see if I have Coeliac's disease. He said 'two slices of bread a day should do it', I heard 'go to town and eat your tits off to your heart's content anything with wheat in it'. I went wheat crazy. KFC, custard tart, meat pie, pizza, subway (wrap and TWO COOKIES), home made bacon and egg mcmuffins for breakfast and countless sandwiches. Good one, dick. Man, was I sick. Bloated, crampy, nauseous, headaches, lethargic, itchy, wheezy and just generally irritable. Two days before the procedure I had to have a low residue diet. I steamed fish and veggies and stuff and that was actually pretty nice. Looked like ass, but tasted better. Thursday was the killer, the day before the procedure. All liquid diet and these horrible drinks that make you shit your soul out in liquid form. When I picked them up, the chick said 'these will give you acute diarrhoea', and I think what she meant to say was 'you will go to the can five thousand times and you won't be able to tell if you're going no. 1 or 2 and you might feel like the devil is reaching inside you and making hand puppets break-dance'. I mean, I've had diarrhoea before, but holy briny barnacle balls, that was something else.

And the procedure. Well. Let me say that the staff at the Flinders Endoscopy unit are all so lovely, and they made me feel really at ease. The only problems I had were: 1. They have to put co2 inside your intestines and it REALLY EFFING HURTS and 2. The drugs made me a bit loopy right up until this afternoon, a day and a half after having them. Like I've said before, I demand honestly of myself on this blog, so here it comes. They put you in a 'twilight sleep', which means they knock you out but you're only just over that edge, it doesn't take a lot to bring you back. This is the part I'm pretty ashamed of – at one point it was pretty painful and I sort of woke up enough to whinge about it. They gave it another go, and I'm pretty sure I cried. I can remember it was excruciating, and the nurse had to hold my hand! They gave me another needle of jungle juice and I remember no more. Crying! Hand holding! Sounds like a Julia Roberts movie, not a tattooed derby girl. Pretty shattered about that, but the worst part is that I can't be sure! I went over and over it last night in my head and just couldn't get any closer. One of the drugs they give you screws with your memory too, which doesn't help. Last night, I was still feeling a little off, and I kept losing my train of thought – right before bed I went to get a drink, and as I was walking back to the room, I said to Kat 'and... as I suspected - ...oh. I can't remember where I was going with that.'
On the whole, a very strange two weeks, I'm very lucky that I have the best girlfriend known to humankind, I don't think I would have made it if it weren't for her tlc.
Four more sleeps and we leave for our holiday! I will be recording our adventures in living colour!
Cherish your virgin bums,

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