(no subject)
Friday night, anabanana invites me out to another Manejo Beto benefit. God, love them, but if I have to see one more show....
Anywho, all night I was having these crazy " Gorilla beating his chest at the rate of a coked up hummingbird" like chest pains. I get them at least once or twice a month. They pass on a so do I. End of story. Usually. Except tonight they just kept coming every half hour or so for a visit. You'd think I'd call it a night and rest, but noooooooooo. This plucky young thing had to make it a night on the town with her best roomates.
And I keep smoking and drinking and living it up like nothings wrong, 'cept the whole while I'm thinking, "Boy, does my chest feel like it's going to cave in on itself. Perhaps I should lay off the tobacco and the longshoreman like drinking for a while."
Eventually this turned in to some personal prayer that Manejo Beto would finally freaking get on stage already so that they could play their set and get OFF the stage already. And then we could go home. And then I could go to bed and pass out. And then wake up and the pain would go away. Or not wake up and be dead. Either way....
Manejo Beto finally made it to the stage, but I didn't make it through the second song before I felt like I was going to pass out.
So next thing I know, I'm at South Austin Hospital checking into the Emergency room at 12:30 in the morning with Sarah and Craigslist man....
(Quick little sidenote. There's this guy I met off of CL about a week ago. Completely not interested and if you must know, I wasn't interested in the thirty odd guys who e-mailed me pictures of their penises either. But that's another story. Anywho. Sarah passed by at some point and peeked at the e-mail he sent me and mentioned he was cute. I passed the ball and now they've been talking since. He happened to be at Ruta Maya last night and so did she. How convenient. They got to talking, and guess who happened to interrupting their discussing by stating that I might possibly be having a heart attack. Well, at least he's cool in my book. He took me to the damn hospital, so I must oblige.)
Turns out my little heart spasm is the result of me not realizing I have Acid Reflux disease and thus was suffering from the result of having Acid Reflux Disease. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I suffer from Ashlee Simpson disease. And I'm thoroughly embarrassed enough that I essentially ruined my evening over what could easily be described as severe heart burn.
The nurses had a good time showing me their Mad T.v. impersonations. When they were busy, the drunks coming in for the routine sewing up of the lip after eating sidewalks kept me amused. The guy wheeling me on the gurney to my x-rays pushed me down the long hallway for fun. I think the cardiogram lady copped a feel when she was sticking electrode thingies to me. Sarah and Ana came into visit and took pictures of me and the drawer labeled lubricants. Fun was had by all.
Several hours later and short the $75 co-pay, I was allowed to go home with my nifty new bracelet to memorialize the evening.
-the end-