Mr Happy, The Drug Flinging MD

It never rains, it pours.

I find myself once again laid up in bed. Whether it's from the horrific 'vacation' I found myself taking - blizzards and icy mountain roads when one is expecting desert vistas does not a fun time make - or helping my sister move, I pulled something in my back.

This has happened before. I'm rather used to the ER procedures for this injury. I'm hooked to an IV, usually a catheter is inserter, blood is drawn, X-rays are taken... it's quite a process. As well it should be, on the chance I've done serious damage.

At midnight, Saturday night, I was admitted to the ER. By 12:40, I was on my home. I was asked all of two questions by the ER doctor. "Has this happened before?" and 'Can I give you an injection to take the edge off?". No, make that three questions. Question number 2 was followed by 'can I make it a big one?'. And he was so enthusiastic about it, grinning and bouncing as though his greatest joy is prescribing pain medication.

I should have said no. I realized this when the nurse came in and informed me that I needed two shots, because the dose prescribed wouldn't fit in one needle. Yes, you read that right. I was injected in my tender flesh with two needles, and within fifteen minutes, I was out of my mind. I had been warned I would be 'loopy' - lovely professional term, that - for the night. I didn't realize that meant 'more stoned than if I'd smoked a bowl of Columbia's finest'.

My prescription? 50 500mg vicodin tablets. two every five hours. I think not. I refuse to spend my days doped up on 1000mg of that stuff.

I can't help but wonder... what if I had been some druggy, looking for a fix? I certainly would have succeeded. I'd never even visited that particular hospital before. I could have been some random young junky, just desperate for those sweet, sweet pills.

I don't think I shall return to that place of medicine ever again.

I'm Taking A Roadtrip Why Again?

My uncle is a photographer. He specializes in national parks and wildlife. He's a damn good photographer, and he tends to drive all over the western and middle part of America for his pictures. Way back in the day, before my accident, I used to accompany him. We hit Yellowstone, Yosemite, Zion, Bryce, The Grand Canyon and a few others. There was much hiking, camping, riding various pack animals and animal watching. After the accident, the trips stopped. It isn't like I'm really in any state to go trekking for ten miles out into the wilderness any longer, after all.

But apparently I'm going once more, into the natural splendor of Mesa Verde. I've been assured that it isn't strenuous, and we're staying in a hotel, and it will be all very relaxing and pleasant.

I was not consulted before this decision was made. Despite being a twenty-mumble year old woman, I am sometimes at the mercy of my parents. And my mother and uncle hatched this scheme on their own, while I was away visiting my sister in another town.

I'm not entirely certain how I feel about this. Yes, I'm getting out. Yes, I do enjoy this sort of thing. Yes, I generally get along well with my uncle. But I've recently found myself with a lack of anything to say to him. I'm not in the animal business anymore. And while my folks are more than happy to discuss video games, the latest atrocity on the Sci-fi network, and my costuming woes, I imagine all of that would simply confuse my dear uncle. I foresee long periods of presumably awkward silence.

Besides, this is taking away from my planning for Anime Vegas.

Who Doesn't Love a Tiny Girl With A Giant Gun Arm?

Sunday is the best day to hit the dealer's room at any convention. And I saved most of my money for a final run, a half hour before the doors closed, in order to snag those last minute deals.

And deals I snagged! Along with two Bome LE figures for ten bucks each, I found myself walking away with the boxed set of an anime called Saikano for only 50$. Original sale price? 140$. Regardless of the quality of the anime, at the very least I could turn around and resell it if it sucked.

The plot seemed pretty straight forward. A tiny, shy, clumsy high school student becomes the Ultimate Weapon. Nothing too new or exciting there, I've seen plenty of other anime with a similar plot. And generally? I find them dull and boring. Maybe that's why it took me so long to pop Saikano into the DVD player. Whatever the reason, I'm sorry I waited.

Saikano is not your average anime. I've seen a lot of anime where horrible burdens are thrust upon immature high school girls, but never have I seen one that handled it so well. Chise doesn't slip into her role with ease and joy. She isn't able to balance her saving the world life with her home and school life. She isn't accepted by her friends and boyfriend. She's a miserable mess who wants to die, her boyfriend is terrified of her, and she drops out of school because she can't handle the pressure.

It's a refreshing change from the norm. Forget Sailor Moon, Saikano is where it's at.

This is not a happy anime. It is depressing and painful and brutal. The gritty realism is unlike anything I've ever seen. These characters are real, they're well rounded, and all of them are flawed. I was sucked into this series from the very first episode, and I highly recommend it.

Next on my list to watch is His and Hers Circumstances.

Handle With Care

One of the perilous pit falls of anime conventions are the glomps. A glomp is, as defined by Wikipedia, that bastion of all knowledge, 'is a form of greeting used by anime fans in the West. A typical "glomp" involves bear hugging someone, tackling them, and latching on tightly, though not enough to intentionally hurt the recipient.'.

'Not intended' being the key words there. Some us - *cough cough*me*cough cough* - aren't exactly glompable. But short of a giant neon sign that says 'DISABLED! NO TOUCH!' there is little way to defend from the glomps. Most people are polite and ask first. But then... then there are the fanboys.

They roam the convention halls, waiting for their moment to strike. They are silent, and pounce with the full weight of their pocky and ramune fed bodies behind them. Often, they let loose great battle-cries in fanhish Japanese - senseless, stupid and terrifying to the unsuspecting victim.

My first and worst experience occurred Saturday night, while still in my Lust costume. I was standing at the foot of some stairs, smoking away in one of the tucked away smoking sections. I was enjoying some peace and quiet, minding my own business, when I hear 'LUST!' and turn just in time to see, with a horrified expression coming over my face, a giant teenage boy run down the stairs at me and grab me, lifting me up and squeezing me.

I had but one reaction:

"I HAVE A BROKEN BACK NO BAD PUT ME DOWN PLEASE!!!!"

Not one of my smoothest moments, I admit. But really, how many of us are actually smooth in a panic situation? Especially with shooting pain happily dancing along one's spine. Not exactly conducive to witty comebacks, let me tell you. I was apologized to, and soothed with pocky. All through the night I suffered further surprise glomps, though none that involved picking me up.

I live in terror of the glomps. But alas, I have yet to find a way to properly defend myself against roving fan boys.

Maybe a costume covered in metal spikes....