Back to the doctor tomorrow to see:

Is she making platelets, or not?

Last time:
platelet count was 27k, steady/holding over 3 days, which is, like, the longest transfusion hold yet, like...in 2 months. So's I think I made some platelets, Demi, like for real, no kiddin'...

(Listen to me, talkin' all like Ashton Kutcher or something...which reminds me of a story...)

My guess: I say 30k, but feel like a 56k
Mo's guess: "What'd you guess? 30k. Well okay, then, go on with yer bad self then."

Which, for those of you who don't *speak the local juke jive of olde*, that means, "Well, if you say so, sounds good to me, I'm going to bed." So I *hollered back*, "Hey...HEY ol' lady, where's your calculator now, huh, where's your cheatin' calculator NOW, lady?!" to her white-cottoned backside as she scuffled off to bed, scratching something more twitchy than itchy, looking for her cat. We're both like totally over the guessing game, like yeahman. Luckily, me and Demi are into Scientology. I mean kalabbah. No wait...the one with the red string...felafel...

This is not my fault I am speaking in Ashton Kutcher. I found this draft never posted from 12/26/06 to explain everything, just everything. Please enjoy.

"I also got a Sylvia Browne book on how to get in touch with your spirit guide. I know. Now that all of you have stopped rolling your eyes and snorting, that's why I got the book to begin with. You know me, always up for experiments. Plus, she makes sense. Oh yeah, I'm psychic, no doubt. In fact, I knew I'd say that. See?? Unexplainable. No, really. It's not marketable for me, but it's nice and annoying to everyone sometimes. I don't talk to dead people though. Scratch the line there. Hell, I barely talk to living ones.

"Anyway. Here's the best part though: I got to the end of the book, where I have to visualize in order to see my spirit guide. I'm not good at visualization. Or sitting still. So you can do these exercises before you sleep. So I tried one exercise last night, and the next thing you know, I found out that, yes, he came to me -- my spirit guide was tall and pale with dark hair and dark eyes and that nose, that face...that goofy smile...that guy from "The 70s Show". Yes, everyone, Ashton Kutcher is my spirit guide. I know. Only he wants me to call him Carlos though. What is up with me and the Ashton Kutcher dreams? This is the third one. I don't care back-or-forth about him. Why couldn't it have been Johnny Depp or Matt Dillon? Why?

"Angry Czeck, you stop that surly laughter, or I shall rise up mightily and smash your bones into a fine powdery dust, leaving your spirit guide, Paul Lynde, cleft in twain!! Or is it Rip Taylor..."


Reality might be transfusion time, but I really doubt it.

Blood for me, Angry Czeck, not you, or Ashton Kutcher. Unless you're cruisin' for an extreme bruisin' yourself. (Ashton, stop making me say stupid things.) Hey, Surly Czeck, you need to update your blog. What's up with you? You sick or something?