You Can Pick Your Friends, But You Can't Pick Your Friends Nose

This morning I had an MRI (they are seriously checking my brain for tooo-mahs). I was a little nervous about it last night when I was emailing with a friend. She had some helpful advice. Below is an email I sent her this morning. I’m not identifying her by name because I’m pretty sure she’s frantically trying to fake her own death right about now...just so I'll stop emailing her.



So my MRI was fun.

They had to give me an IV with contrast dye only my veins never cooperate. Today was no exception. The MRI itself was no big deal, but I could totally see how it can freak people out. On top of being stuffed into a tube meant for spit balls, they strapped my head down and then wedged all this padding around the cage.

Here’s the part where you’re going to regret that you’re friends with someone so lame.

So I’m in the tube and I start daydreaming about things to kill the boredom. At first it’s going pretty good. I made sure to keep things I was thinking PG rated because HELLO, THIS IS A BRAIN SCAN. The last thing I need is my doctor being all, okay so everything looks normal except for the part where you were thinking about naked circus stunts. AKWARD. So then I’m all NOW WHAT?

Here’s the part where you’re probably going to wish I was just thinking about adopting kittens or something normal like that.

Nope. No such luck. I started thinking: What if there was some sort of invasion, like Steven Segal style? Only that presented two problems: a) I wouldn’t be able to see or hear it happen (sort of like in Under Siege when Steven Segal was locked in that walk in freezer on the boat, do you remember that movie?). Anyway, that means there could have been NINJAS HAVING A MASSIVE FIGHT ALL AROUND ME (not that there were ninjas in Under Siege, but you get my point) and b) THERE IS NO WAY I CAN GET OUT OF THIS MACHINE BY MYSELF.

So then I’m picturing the entire nursing staff bound and gagged in their little room outside the MRI CAPSULE OF DOOM. And Ninjas whipping their little star-shaped blade-y things at each other over my feet. And me – ultimately – trying to wriggle my way out of the football helmet thing around my head without yanking the IV out of my arm, or having my gown ride up…because seriously, the last thing I need is Ninjas seeing my pink flowered panties. FYI: I wore nice panties today because you never know who’s going to be seeing your ass at the hospital. And plus I didn’t want a repeat of that one time when I forgot to wear underwear to my doctors appointment, and he was all, “Take off you pants and hop up on the table” and that’s when I turned to look at Jay like, “QUICK! Strip and give me your boxers to wear!”

So yeah. That’s the part where I thought I was going to crack up and start laughing.

Laughing would have sucked because there is no way to do that and stay still at the same time. Of course the nurses are so focused on saying things like, “DON’T PANIC” and “IT’S LOUD AND SORT OF SCARY, HOLD STILL” that they never think to add, “DON’T MAKE YOURSELF LAUGH WHILE YOU’RE IN THERE, LOSER.” Which is what I’m thinking as I try VERY HARD not to laugh. The last thing I need is a mad nurse on my hands while my head is stuck in a football helmet.

I can tell exactly what you’re thinking right now: I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED READING WHEN SHE STARTED WRITING ABOUT NINJAS.

Anyway. In a desperate attempt to stop myself from laughing, I did the next logical thing: mentally planned my own funeral. It was pretty sad but on the upside, cremating your body is the quickest way to lose weight. Of course there was a big dilemma; I’m not sure where I want my ashes scattered. And also, do you think they’d have my service here or in my parents’ home town? I’m thinking that they’d probably do it up north which I’m not really thrilled with to be perfectly honest. On the other hand, it would mean a lot of travelling for people if they don’t. Which reminded me of you of course because you were all: just think dirty thoughts so you don’t panic. Okay, so you didn’t say that exactly, but I’m pretty sure that was what you meant.

Whatever. My point is, would you fly in for my funeral? I thought you probably would, but I know your work schedule is pretty tight. Anyway, if you can’t make it to my funeral, I totally understand. Just go to the Josh Ritter concert and have a beer in my honour and we’ll call it even.

PS: Of course all of this hinges on my dying, so it doesn’t really matter anyway.

PPS: You should still go to the Josh Ritter concert.