Who am I kidding?

Yesterday's entry was a little off. Steve did it all. He asked me the right questions and I somehow gave him the right answers. He didn't help me figure out what was wrong, he figured out what was wrong and told me how to fix it.

He's a friggin' big brain, my friends!

Bless Steve and the horse he rode in on!

He helped me figure out why the image on the Look At Me! page wasn't updating like it should.

It's working now, but I have to wait for my hair to stop being bratty before I put up any new images.

Rynnie happy.

Today, I went in for my MRI. Yes, I laid in a metal tube and chanted to keep myself from moving.

What did I chant?

Gyllenhaal. (Jill. En. Hall.) It worked with the rhythm of the machine. I started with Nom Yo Ho Ring Geay Ceow, but it didn't fit with the thumps and buzzes and the sound of, what at first I thought was, a drill, as well as Gyllenhaal did.

When I got out the tech asked me if the machine talked to me. Some people, he said, say that the machine talks to them. I was hurt for a moment, I mean, what did I ever do to that machine? Why isn't it talking to me?

Then I thought this is why I should be having an MRI; I'm clearly insane.

I bet the image of the inside of my skull will be a sign reading "Out of order, we appologize for any inconvience."

I.
Am.
Obsessed.
With.
Stringing.
Beads.
So.
Pretty.