..been driving in traffic, and happened to look over at the car next to
you and see someone just blatantly picking their nose. Yeah, that
happened again to me today. I may have been disgusted if I weren't so
completely enthralled with how into his craft he was: Pick, rub fingers
together, examine, flick...repeat. Completely oblivious to my "Ewww,
yuck" face I'm sure I was making. I'm sure this is the same guy he over
extends himself to shake everybodies hand in the office. Wow.

Okay, it's not quite a haiku, but it's a dope qoute nonetheless:
Alarm clocks are evil
They attack without warning
And they kill dreams

Heard about "C2", Coca-Cola's™ new beverage featuring half the carbs? Even sodas are changing up for this Atkins BS? What next, low carb flavored condoms for the professional sex worker who's also health concsious?

So, with about 8 minutes and change left of the game 3 finals between LA & Detroit, I can actually make out what's on the TV in front of me and decide to go to the ER at Howard Hospital. Why Howard, I guess cause it was closer or something, I don't know. The drive was fine, although somebody had to flash me to remind me to turn my lights on and I was a bit disoriented trying to figure out where I could park my truck. I worked it out and stumbled my way down the length of the building to the emergency room. I walk up to the desk and see a huge guard, like Big Boy from the Magic Johnson show and the Fox series, The Fast Lane…big. And then I see the guy working the desk who looks like his last nerve had been worked hours ago.

I tell him my situation, he gives me the form, and as I fill out the information I wonder how well I'll respond or if I'll black out or not. So at this point, I'll back track a bit. On Tuesday I got sick, like "hurl" sick after eating some fish. I hadn't eaten anything of substance that entire day prior to the fish at around eight and I had pulled a nine-hour day. The day before I did pretty much the same thing, but instead I ate a bunch of corn bread and eggs. Weird I know, but it was something a friend hooked up for me as she ain't have no grub, I had to take her home, and then drive home myself. Better than nothing, I think. So, two days of not eating and work, mixed with a nervous stomach equals me missing points of game two, are we seeing a theme here? Because I felt awful prior to the hurling episode, I called over that same friend to look out for me…she arrived minutes after my "purge". The next day she opted to take care of me as I was aching, weak and could barely move. I slept and drank a lot of fluids, namely water and cran-apple juice.

Back to the ER; I hand back the form in it's completed state and nervously look for somewhere to sit. I would never have gone to the ER if I hadn't been watching the game for like five minutes trying to figure out if I had gone crazy or my vision was going haywire. Eventually when my eyes were going different ways and the room was spinning, I knew that if I could get stable enough, I'd have to go to the ER. Sooooo, here I am in the ER with a headache coming on, and my old friend nausea making an encore performance for like the third day in a row. I'm anxious. I go to the guy who looks like he's been worked like 15'th century free labor and ask if there are any other forms I can fill out. He says no. Okay. I have to pee, so I find a ladies room, because you can here the quacking sounds coming out of the two men's' rooms and close the door. Wash my hands and sit down. I'm called to triage for a symptom(s) check, temperature check and BP measure. Lynn calls to see where I am while I'm getting my temp checked; she's worried and upset I didn't let her know where I was going. I wasn't of the right mind to get into, so I convince her o drop it. The lady seems really cold at first, but I'm too off-center to be irate. Once she sees I have home training, "No ma'am…pardon me ma'am", she lightens up. She finishes and sends me back out to wait for the insurance card check.

Almost all the seats are taken now, so I stand at the check-in desk with my head down waiting for my name to be called. I was worried that I wouldn't hear my name across the room. Hmmmm, the chick at the first window is a cutey…oops, I'm gonna 'url…wait, I'm good. Lynn walks in wearing here concern on her face about five minutes after she calls me and asks me where I parked. We sit down not to far from the desk and I'm called for paperwork and insurance check…by the cutey. She was really nice, and well-mannered, but I wasn't even stuntin' offa that at the time. I answered questions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed, like, "What religion are you". For a moment, I forgot I was sick as laughed at the question which seemed odd and out of place. I answered "Christian", but inquired as to why they needed to know. "Well, some people may want to make donations, or if you die, they need to know what to do with the body" Although she wasn't directing it at me when she said that last part, I still playfully let out a "Gee, thanks" before I slumped back in my seat.

With paperwork done, we looked for seats and found no two seats together. We find a seat and a table on the opposite side because Lynn can hear probably better than me at this point. By now, I feel wasted and drugged. I have a splitting headache, and the increasing fear that Fox is going to start filming a new reality ER show right as I let loose on the hospital floor. This cat, James, asks Lynn what's wrong with me, as I am sure I looked like shit. After a couple of small exchanges, he took it upon himself to get me buzzed in the back. Once on the other side of the door, they sit me in a chair where I'm forgotten for about twenty minutes. I'm called to a stretcher by a short lady in a Winnie the Pooh orderly top…I think of Lynn. I sit on the stretcher for maybe another twenty minutes. Eventually this dark skinned sister with a Las Vegas shirt on under her medical attire came over to ask questions…looking like she has one foot out the door to go clubbin'.

She tends to me, disappears, then tends to me again. She seems like cool peoples; actually reminds me of a friend by the name of Aneesah for some strange reason. She gives me a recepticle for patients who are nauseated which can be best described as a horse condom. It's been a while and a nurse comes out the back entrance to the triage and sees me…immediately she takes interest in my well-being, asking questions. She walks off saying, "Yeah, you look sick". After she rummages through a couple of things, she comes back with sodium chloride and all the other shit for an IV drip. I shoot her a look like, Oh, hell no", but ask her, "Who's this for". She responds, "You". And walks off. Eventually, Las Vegas comes back, wondering why I have Sodium Chloride on my stretcher and I'm not dehydrated. I ask her what her name is, and she tells me it's Kianna. She goes to handle something, and Lynn finds her way in. We talk a bit, and I point out the Winnie the Pooh shirt. She smiles. Kianna comes back and tells me she has a place for me to be moved to…she runs off. Ole girl who brought the IV bag comes back trying to administer the joint; I start looking for Kianna. I tell her I don't want the IV because I've been drinking water all evening, which I had. She looked sad and dejected. I make sure I say thank you and I appreciate it, though.

Kianna comes to get me to move to Trauma Room 2. After a quick switch of stretchers,
Lynn and I were left behind a curtain waiting for me to be seen. My headache had pretty much subsided and all that was left was occasional nausea. I wondered why they had containers of shit over my head (apparently, the machine that sucks it out of you must have been a space saver by putting it over head). It wasn't long before Dr. Spencer came through to kick Lynn out, for what, I don't know. He was one of those sarcastic cats, slipping in questions like, "Are you pregnant" in the string of questions I've answered like three times already. At one point I pointed out to Kianna that Ididn't like looking up at other people waste, and mentioned I was having truamatic visions of that shit, no pun intended, falling on me (no I didn't say "shit" to her). I get moved from under the shit machine; she says she'll cock my stretcher some sort of way. Having a Bru-like moment, I laugh to myself thinking, "Ha, she said cock". After that, I'm passed between, he, Kianna, and this cool African orderly named Ashiru which I learned meant "All praises due to God" I think. I told him that there was a cat on the DC hip hop scene with a name similar to his. He told me he was from Nigeria, and I mentioned I had a friend from Nigeria. He then translated his name into "Like me". Interesting. I don't…just kidding, fam.

Eventually blood is drawn by Kianna, which makes me feel like a lab rat. I ask questions like, "Is this a brand new needle?" I do a few neurological tests…and I wait some more. Ashiru comes with some "Spring Water" in a foam cup at some point, and I don't really want to drink for fear I might still upchuck. After being bored and accidentally spilling my cup twice in a manner that may mak someone think I pissed on myself, I figured it was time to put the cup down. I walk in the doorway, and listen to the sounds of the ER in swing. "Was she in a car acident or is it an assualt…assualt…is she code yellow…okay" "Do you feel like you're bleeding right now?" "Yes, and I'm three months pregnant" James is on a stretcher outside my room, we talk a bit. I tell him thanks for keeping Lynn calm outside, and thanks for looking out. He tells me that Lynn cares a lot for me. I nod knowingly. Oops, there's Kianna again; I've been looking for her.

I have to go to the bathroom. Kianna reluctantly shows me the way, half afraid I'm going to run out before I get my results. I assured her, "Hey, I waited this long…" Some joker in a green shirt is trying to get me to go into one of the empty bathrooms, when a nurse cracks the door to see if it's vacant, he starts giggling like a little kid who just got off another practical joke. She calmly closes the door and assures me I don't want to do that. He's laughing out loud now, as the nurses cooly let him know, "You're a nasty mothafucka". She takes me to another section to use another restroom. She remarks that he probably messed that bathroom up as she point me in the right direction. She tells me not to get lost coming back and I say I won't.

When I come back, son in the green shirt is remarking rather loudly that he "…needs something so he can take a shit". He threatens to take a shit in the hallway, and I laugh at him kinda as I walk by, although in the back of my mind, I thought he could be serious. Turned out he was. Son was doing the…do…in a bed pan in the hallway like "What?" Fortunately I missed the fiasco as I went back to my room. On my way back I tried to see if Spencer could see what was up with my lab work. Nothing. Two nurses were in there, and I asked if they needed the room. They told me it was mine, but I countered I was simply waiting for a test. They instantly took a liking to me and started talking and shooting the breeze with me as they did their routine. The black nurse reminded me of my friends Aunt Jerri, not because of looks, but because of spirit. The white nurse obviously had been around sistas a lot, and made jokes asking why I came to Howard's ER, and she wouldn't have. She told me I missed all the action as she went about covering some machine.

Ashiru came by and told me to wait in the front. I see this dude, Mike (I think), sitting there who looks close to thirty, but really just twenty-three. I nod what's up to him and we talk a bit, nothing profound or spitiual. Eventually James winds up over where we are. I listen to the commentary from these two young dudes and realize again, how blessed I am. James remarks that his mother has AIDs, as they talk about this and that. I chime in every once in a while, more content to listen than talk. It's from Mike that I learn ole boy in the green shirt is cuttin a fool. He's been brought in by the po-po's. They speculate after son got his ass bust by them. They comment how they've both been brought to the hospital by the po's, and how dude could probably escape if he tried, seeing as though he had a female officer guarding him. Then they play out the legalities of doing said action. As the cutey from behind the glass walk back and forth, I find she's only 23, also…she had us all looking…and she knew it. The older lady from triage asks If I'm okay as she leaves, and James messes with her for not asking if he was too. She tells him he's okay to which he responds, "True". The black and white nurse from earlier playfully chastise me for not telling them I was moving, and I apologized for abandonin them. Theone that reminded me of Auntie said she was looking forward to showing me their routine (behave, ya'll). I said I'd leave a sticky note next time, to which she playfully slapped my knee before they walked off.

What a character. Eventually, Kianna comes through to let me know I'm clear and my lab work is straight…a viral infection I'll have to wait to take its course. Ashiru gives me some forms to sign and I hit the outer waiting room. It's almost 5:00am and Lynn is curled up at the end of the waiting room asleep. That girl is a soldier down for my cause…I love her for that.

I said there were some big things on the horizon that I wasn't gonna get into at that particular moment? No? Well, trust me, I did. Here's one of them. Illpoets.com live, and tickets are going to go fast. Click here for more details

Am I the only one who hates that little fucker Thirst from the Sprite™ advertisement campaigns? He's freakin' annoying. Not only that, but he's a blatant rip- off of Chris Rock's Lil' Penny from the Nike™ advertisements in the mid 90's. I don't think that the dude who does Thirst's voice is even black, which is kinda like a non-native playing Tonto all those years on the Lone Ranger, or David Carradine playing an Asian guy on Kung- Fu...offensive. You're going to blatantly stereotype us...again...and get somebody else to do it? Either way, they can't win on that one, but it comes off as more foul when it's done that way.
PS- In case you're wondering why I keep putting the (™) symbol in my entry, it's because I can. No other reason than I'm a geek who knows the (extremely simple) html code to do that shit. Hey, I can also do the (°, ©, ®, ♦, ♥, ♠, ♣) symbols too. But I wouldn't be that pressed to do it it here, though. Now bored enough to do it...that's a whole different ball of wax. Sigh, I'm such a geek.

You know you still ♥ me, though.

Note to self: Make sure you thoroughly wash the crumbs from the “Fiery Hot! Potato Chips” prior to wiping your eyes.

I finally finished the illpoets.com rebuild project over memorial day weekend. The joint looks niiiiiiice if I do say so myself. That's great, but I STILL have tons of things to do. But, I can still take 3- 5 to tell ya'll about my weekend.
1) Friday. illpoets.com brand new for the 04 you suckas...no not you, just talking . Anybody heard of KRS- 1...sheesh, tough crowd.
2) Saturday. Cookout at Pops cribs. Flavorful and scrum-diddley-umptious. Monnesota did their thing, namely Latrelle Sprewell who was unconscious.
3) Sunday. Yet another "Bug Out" under the belt. For those who don't know, a "Bug Out" is an ato expo that focuses on VW Beetles. They have vintage and souped up joints, and drag races too. You'd have to go to appreciate this spectacle fully. Step father put me onto it as a likkle youf. They had this car named 'Spirit 1' that hit 139.5 mph on a 1/8 mile track. That shit did the 1/8 in like 5.7 seconds, and the driver wasn't even pushing it hard. Folks were saying he could do it in 4.9!
4) Monday. Saw Shrek 2. It was...okay. Didn't get "ha ha" funny until the end of the movie. Heard the joint pulled in 100+ million over the weekend. Still couldn't see Spider-man @ 120, though. Spider-man 2 looks better than the first one, too.
Anywho...more later, back to work...