We spent all day yesterday doing some very disturbing things to over a half dozen cadaveric heads via avenues like ‘Pterional approach,’ and, ‘Pretemporal approach.’ Today we journeyed through the interpeduncular fossa and the basilar bifurcation, with scenic, CSF-covered stops along the Prepontine region and Cavernous Sinus. I have no idea what this all means, but of all the dead human heads I’ve stuck inanimate and animate objects into, these were the nicest. Soft, succulent skin. Juicy, medium-rare muscle tissue. Even the arachnoid required the delicate, attentive dissection it deserves.
This is making me hott.
Also, I had a dream last night that I was in a plane crash. Shortly after take-off. I knew we were going down too. And I remember being ok with that because I knew I’d get an appropriate reimbursement package from the airline. But I had a complete inability to get my shoes on. Also, I was in an isle seat. Which I thought was weird because I hate the isle seat. I always leave with unilateral patella fractures from the cart and that pisses me off. Sometimes, when I fly United, and I’m stuck in the isle, one of the overly heavy-set geriatric Flight Attendants will back a disproportionate lower limb up into my knee and force my femoral head completely through the acetabulum. It hurts like a bitch.
Oh yeah. I’ve been getting a few inquiries about weather or not I really got married, and if so, since when did I start dating again, why didn’t I tell you before, and would I please return Seasons One and Two of The Wire because they’re not mine and I didn’t pay for them so I have no fu*king right to keep something that clearly doesn’t belong to me.
Yes, I recently married the most amazingly beautiful woman with biggest brown puppy eyes, a smile that shows half her soft, pink upper gum line, and the most soothing, sexiest accent you’ve ever heard this side of the Mason Dixon Line.
But this is Phase I. And no one was invited to Phase I because Phase I is the pre-curser to Phase II. Yes, this wedding is Phasic.
Phase II – IV happens in Azerbaijan, all of which was solely dependent upon Phase I. And while Phase I was completely and overly special to the two of us, we are deeply sympathetic to, and cognizant of the fact that we couldn’t share it with our loved ones and how that affects them and their feelings. But certain things have to happen before we get to Phase V, which is the part where she wears a white dress, does complicated but beautiful things to her hair and nails, and I shave. This is also where you come in and celebrate with us in all our dressed-up, vodka-soaked glory. Where we dance and eat and hug and kiss and you can’t stop telling us how good-looking our kids will turn out because my wife is so amazingly hot. And, there’ll be vodka.
So yes, I have a new piece of jewelry around my finger. And while we would’ve given anything to have everyone share the moment with us, we knew a long time ago that immigration laws coupled with our long-term goals provided us a unique situation in which we had to think of ourselves first, and selfishly delay the gratification of others. So while we fill out immigration paperwork and think of which war-torn Azeri region to pawn you off to for a day trip, we hope you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive us, and join us in looking forward to sharing our union with you next spring. If you’re looking for gift ideas, Mrs. Baku wants a puppy and I want a whisk.
This is making me hott.
Also, I had a dream last night that I was in a plane crash. Shortly after take-off. I knew we were going down too. And I remember being ok with that because I knew I’d get an appropriate reimbursement package from the airline. But I had a complete inability to get my shoes on. Also, I was in an isle seat. Which I thought was weird because I hate the isle seat. I always leave with unilateral patella fractures from the cart and that pisses me off. Sometimes, when I fly United, and I’m stuck in the isle, one of the overly heavy-set geriatric Flight Attendants will back a disproportionate lower limb up into my knee and force my femoral head completely through the acetabulum. It hurts like a bitch.
Oh yeah. I’ve been getting a few inquiries about weather or not I really got married, and if so, since when did I start dating again, why didn’t I tell you before, and would I please return Seasons One and Two of The Wire because they’re not mine and I didn’t pay for them so I have no fu*king right to keep something that clearly doesn’t belong to me.
Yes, I recently married the most amazingly beautiful woman with biggest brown puppy eyes, a smile that shows half her soft, pink upper gum line, and the most soothing, sexiest accent you’ve ever heard this side of the Mason Dixon Line.
But this is Phase I. And no one was invited to Phase I because Phase I is the pre-curser to Phase II. Yes, this wedding is Phasic.
Phase II – IV happens in Azerbaijan, all of which was solely dependent upon Phase I. And while Phase I was completely and overly special to the two of us, we are deeply sympathetic to, and cognizant of the fact that we couldn’t share it with our loved ones and how that affects them and their feelings. But certain things have to happen before we get to Phase V, which is the part where she wears a white dress, does complicated but beautiful things to her hair and nails, and I shave. This is also where you come in and celebrate with us in all our dressed-up, vodka-soaked glory. Where we dance and eat and hug and kiss and you can’t stop telling us how good-looking our kids will turn out because my wife is so amazingly hot. And, there’ll be vodka.
So yes, I have a new piece of jewelry around my finger. And while we would’ve given anything to have everyone share the moment with us, we knew a long time ago that immigration laws coupled with our long-term goals provided us a unique situation in which we had to think of ourselves first, and selfishly delay the gratification of others. So while we fill out immigration paperwork and think of which war-torn Azeri region to pawn you off to for a day trip, we hope you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive us, and join us in looking forward to sharing our union with you next spring. If you’re looking for gift ideas, Mrs. Baku wants a puppy and I want a whisk.
