2. Unshaven legs.
3. No shower since June.
4. Greasy hair.
5. No makeup.
6. No cell phone.
These are clues that, when assembled on a sunny afternoon in Hollywood, will garner you a spot in the Idiot's Hall of Fame.
A half block from my home I noticed a man going through some garbage looking for cans and when I was parallel to him, I looked closely and tripped over the hair on my legs.
I fell face forward. The force of my head hitting the concrete stunned me and I thought I was going to black out.
The Can Man tried to help me up but I just turned over on my back and said, "I'm okay, just let me lie here for a week."
Can Man said, "Should I call 911?" He had his cell phone and was surely wearing underwear because he did not want to go to the hospital that day.
"WHY?" I asked him. I was bleeding but couldn't feel it. I put my hand up to my face and it came away completely covered in blood.
The fire department is 4 blocks from my house and they came roaring down the street and careened around the corner in under 5 minutes, sirens blaring. I kept asking Can Man "Is it the firetruck? Are FIREMEN on their way? How do I look?" Even when I'm bleeding from the head, my vanity knows no bounds.
Four men got off the truck and stared down at me. One started to wipe away the blood and said, "I don't want to get it in your hair."
"I have Tom Petty's haircut. Blood will only improve it."
They patched me up and when they helped me stand one of them said "How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Can you see straight?"
"Well you girls look fabulous." Silence.
"Oh. An attempt at humor, that's a good sign."
An ATTEMPT? Fuckers.
I only went to the hospital because the firemen made me. They said I needed stitches. I was going to go home! The Drs. at the hospital said to always take the advice of firemen. They triage on the spot and have seen lots of injuries. And they're always cute.
At the hospital they ordered an x-ray, which I didn't know was a cat scan. I thought they would just put my head in a mammogram machine and squish my tremendous ego back into place.
I begged the radiology technician to give me the results. She said only a doctor could do that. But I know from past experience that if you scare the hell out of them, they'll tell you. So I wrapped my bloody hands around her neck and shook her violently. Please, I could barely raise my arms.
I got a tetanus shot and then the Dr. said, "These anesthesia shots are going to hurt. The first one will hurt a lot and the second one will hurt MORE and then you won't feel the 3rd or 4th one." God appeared to me during the second shot.
All the shots were around my eye, where there is no fat. If only I had fallen on my ass.
"Is this going to affect the scar from my eye job?"
"Yes."
I shut my mouth at that point because the look on her face said it all. She knew I only cared about what the new scar would look like juxtaposed next to the old one. I'll bet she sewed me a zigzag lightening bolt. Now I'll have to join a gang.
The things I do to entertain you people:
"NO Elin, I did NOT sleep with Tiger. Put the golf club down."And to the commenter who once said I look hot in every picture: I'm sorry I had to shatter your illusions.
Now I'm going to call my Mommy.
End of chat.
