WebKittyn Warbles

I got tired of people going to bed halfway through my show, makes me insecure. So I've switched with Bruce Wayne who wanted a later spot and I start tonight.

Tonight, 8PM-10PM EST, WebKittyn Weeknights!

Expect the usual outstanding level of nothingness and bitching and way too many uses of the f bomb.

Come to the chatroom, show me some love.

Join us tonight, keep Kittyn feeling secure!

Mojo Radio Live

I spent a lot of time in the hospital pissed off. Pissed off that I was there. Pissed off that the hospital was two hours from my family and four hours from my friends. Pissed off that my mother could only get there once or twice a week. Pissed off at the world. There was one ten-day period where I unplugged my phone, sent my mother home when she showed up and didn't talk to anyone. I sat up all night reading and watching tv and slept all day, pissed off. They kept trying to offer me Xanax but I didn't want it, I wanted to be pissed off.

I don't know what snapped me out of it but I woke up one morning and I was tired of being pissed off. I knew I was stuck there and would be for a while so I decided to stop being pissed off and deal with it. I started going down to smoke a cig once in the morning and at night, it was enough exercise to get me off the heparin shots (in the lower abdomen, not fun). In the beginning I had to practically drag my ass back up the stairs on the way back but it became a way of measuring my progress. I'll never forget the first night I had the strength to make it up the stairs without using the banister, I knew I was getting better.

I got to really know the nurses on the floor and the assistants and the aides who really did all the work. I had a great medical student assigned to my case and I spent a lot of time talking it out with him. I found small ways to amuse myself like flashing the chest catheter at small children in the lobby and knowing that when Darkstar or my mother made it up it meant contraband pizza from the cafeteria.

I spent all of Easter Sunday in the hospital wearing a silly plastic pink bonnet with a plastic pink flower. I had some good friends send me fritos and blow pops in the mail and I always had something to read.

If I had only thought to stockpile all the Xanax they tried to give me I could have made a killing selling those things! I didn't want to numb any of it, I wanted to feel and I wanted to act on those feelings. I had a right to be sad, let me cry and go away and I'll get over it.

I slept well there, surprisingly. The bed was comfortable and I had no problems tuning out the world during the day and sleeping. They bothered me less during the day, it worked out well. My room was right across from the Nursing Station so at night it was always busy and the hours flew by. The phlebotomists came around 3:30 AM three times a week and on the rare nights I didn't have a roommate the nurses would escape into my room for a blow pop and some conversation.

There were occasional bouts of pissed off here and there, it got frustrating towards the end and being so far away from my dad while he was in the hospital made it even harder. It's true though, if one searches hard enough one can find inside the strength to get through damn near anything.

Eight weeks is a long time, especially after the three weeks in Hell Hospital and the lost week I don't remember. You have to find some way to pass time time or you end up accepting the Xanax and numbing out for the whole time.

I hope I never have to spend eight weeks in a hospital again, even one as great as Albany Medical Center.

Monogodo tagged me. I haven't been tagged in a long time, it felt good. Time to post and pass along the taggy goodness

The Rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on the blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know they have been tagged.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

1. I voted Democrat for the first time in my entire life this year.

2. I would turn the clock back to 1990 and work over from there if I could pick one year.

3. Animal Precint makes me cry every time.

4. I'm addicted to the Real Housewives of Orange County, God help me.

5. I have some really crazy dreams about having sex at Mt. Everest Base Camp.

6. Lucky Charms are still my number one cereal.

Now to pass along the taggy mojo! These are all really funky blogs that are definitely worth checking out!

Bobby McGee
Darkstar
Malfouka
Nicki
SEV
Utopia

We were talking in the KMRL chatroom the other night about our favourite holidays and Thanksgiving got a lot of votes. Hecubus brought up the many Thanksgiving eves we spent in Pat's and how awesome those nights were.

Pat's was a dive bar, it was my Cheers for 10 years. It was my second home and much more than just a bar. The decor sucked but the jukebox was good and it had been in business forever. Luke owned the place, he got it from his father who had run the place and he ran it with his two sons Mike and Jeff. It was a generational bar, people would go and drink in the same bar their parents drank in. They had a cranky old waitress named Rosie who was rumoured to spit in people's food if they insulted her but she loved us.

Luke was like a second father to all the regulars, he knew everyone by name and he knew how to run his bar. He would cut people off when needed and he was quick on the buy-backs. Mike and Jeff were young and goodlooking and it was just an all around homey bar. I almost had a thing with Mike, unfortunately for me Mike had a fiance but this isn't about my sins.

Twice a year Pat's was guaranteed to be packed, standing room only and that was if you were lucky. St. Patrick's Day and Thanksgiving eve. Thanksgiving eve was the night when people would appear out of the woodwork, it was like a tradition. The college kids would come home and people who hadn't been in Pat's since the year before would make the annual trek for the night.

We were a pretty big core crew, getting a table was serious business. I got there at around 6PM one year just to grab a table big enough for myself, Faith Anne, Danielle, Darkstar, Hecubus, The Bear, Michael, Pat Hunter, Joe Z and Liz..

It was a big drinking night, you couldn't go up to the bar to get a drink without ending up doing 5-6 rounds of shots with old friends, new friends or strangers. I think I topped off at 17 shots of Jager one night along with my usual double wild turkey and Cokes. And the Goldschlager, Christ that stuff was nasty. The Irish Mist. Oy.

It was a huge hook up night too but I guess that walks hand in hand with the excessive boozing. No one left Pat's alone on Thanksgiving eve unless they wanted to. Darkstar and Hecubus were man-whores, it was always interesting to see who they left with. I was with Michael most of the time who was usually too plastered to do anything after the bar but babble meaningless drunken "I love yous" and fall asleep at odd times.

It was such a good feeling in Pat's those nights. Everyone was happy, even the usual crowds that liked to bait each other would stop for the night and share a shot. 20 somethings just new to the bar would sit with 50 somethings who had been in Pat's for 30 years and sing along with the juke and share some wings.

They would clean up, too. We would be so plotzed by the time we left we would leave huge tips at the end of the night. I would drop a fifty on the bar at the end of the night and I wasn't alone.

Ritual would then dictate stopping in the lot behind the diner (which was about half a block down from Pat's) and smoking a joint or a bowl before hitting the diner for the mandatory 3AM Thanksgiving eve feast of potato skins and me in front of the lobster tank talking to the lobsters. They knew us well at the diner and we'd sit there for as long as it took for the coffee to work enough to make it home.

I loved those nights. I loved sitting at the table and watching the door the second it opened to see who was coming in. I loved flirting with people knowing it was just once a year flirting but it was so much fun. I loved sharing shots and buying rounds and the stupid sentimental shit drunk people say when they're making impromptu toasts. I loved hearing Michael confess his undying love knowing full well he wouldn't remember saying it until I reminded him. I loved being surrounded by kickass friends and fun people. I loved knowing I'd go home and wake up to a day of family, food and closeness.

It was my annual ritual for a little more than ten years and some of the happiest memories I have.

I hope it's a great Thanksgiving for everyone, I really do.

The Grass Roots - Midnight Confessions.

One of the 20 best songs ever.

Ever.