My plan was to write about Thursday night and how Beth and I started talking about Trivial Pursuit and that segued into Religious Trivial Pursuit and then Biblical reality shows. Oh, heck, I’ll write it anyway.

B: What was Jesus’s favorite sitcom as a child?
DM: I have no clue.
B: Three Wisemen and a Baby.
DM: Snort.

Q: What was Mary’s favorite song?
A: Like a Virgin.

Q: What was Mary Magdalene’s favorite song?
A: Dang it, I don’t remember. It wasn’t Bitch. I want to say Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch-Me from Rocky Horror Picture Show but I know that wasn’t it.

There were sports questions as well but I can’t remember them. I don’t know why I don’t carry a tape recorder around when Beth and I are together. Granted, it would be filled with my snorting all the time and reaching for my inhaler.

DM: That’s not my inhaler.
B: No, that’s hair spray.

The reality TV shows were very interesting. You should so hear Beth’s announcer voice. She is so awesome with it. The plagues of Egypt was hilarious.

B: First there were the frogs. Then there were something (I forgot what the something was)…and then Bob’s got to tell poor Timmy he’s going to die. Gosh, Timmy, wouldn’t it be great if we were Jewish?

I’m sure it wasn’t quite like that, it was probably much, much funnier because she is brilliant. There were more but I don’t really remember all of them. Help me out here, Beth.

In other news, I had a doctor’s appointment on Friday. I have been having some right heel pain and thought it might be Achilles tendinosis. It had been bothering me over the past months whenever I took the trash out or took a cart downstairs (I usually am barefoot whenever possible and it isn’t a problem in my apartment because we have the cushiest carpet ever but walking on flatter carpet or concrete hurts). Staying over at Beth’s this last weekend, I was pretty much barefoot the entire time, except when we went out. Sunday night, I tried to walk from her dining room table to the couch and ended up doing this hopping, flopping wounded bird walk because I couldn’t put my foot down. It was not pleasant.

I also have a problem with my left knee. I wrenched it when Beth and I were in Vegas and it bothers me off and on. The last few months it has been getting worse and will occasionally give me a lot of trouble when I’m trying to stand up. The combination of the two makes me a little cranky and look like an idiot when I’m trying to walk.

I’d been joking about this on Thursday night and made the comment that obviously turning 40 meant that my body was going to fall apart. Then, after trying to understand a conversation between Beth, Sarah and James, I said that maybe I should get my hearing checked.

James: What?
DM: I said ‘Maybe I should get my hearing checked.’
James: What?
DM: Rolls her eyes.
James: No, seriously, I didn’t hear you.
DM: Maybe I should get my hearing checked.
James: Oh! Ha. That’s funny.

Anyway, Friday my brother-in-law Eric picked me up and drove me to the doctor. After waiting awhile (Deb is usually always late for appointments because she is fantastic and a lot of people want to see her) but not caring because I have a book, she comes in and I give her the list of complaints.

I get sent off for an X-ray of my foot. I then hear Deb giggling in the hallway. She comes back in.

Deb: You’ve got big old heel spurs.

She shows me the X-ray. Oh, yeah, there they are. Great. I get a referral to Podiatry. I am also told I need to go to the hospital for a standing X-ray of my knee because I might have arthritis. And I’ve also got a referral to have my hearing checked.

DM: Do you think they’ll give me a walker?
Deb (laughing): No. You don’t want a walker.
DM: Or maybe I could go tooling around in one of those Lark cart thingies. That’d be cool.

Amazingly enough I actually looked forward to turning 40. This is the first birthday that I haven’t greeted with depression (thank you, Lord, for creating Effexor and Seraquel). And this is what I’m rewarded with? I’m just waiting for my nose to fall off next.

Ah, humor. If it wasn’t for it, I’d be curled into a fetal position and screaming “Damn you, 40! Damn you!” Anyway, I’ll see you later. I’m going out to price Hoverounds.

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