Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Roy Spivey, v. 2

Okay, this is driving me crazy. Who in the world is Roy Spivey? I was reading a story today about a woman who sat next to what she described as a famous movie star/heartthrob with a V in his first name who played a spy and was married with kids to a well-known Hollywood starlet with an eating disorder. It was a great story, but setting that aside for a moment, it's driving me nuts that I can't think of who she must be referring to. I think he was famous in the 1980s, based on the time passage in the story, and she said "now," which probably really is now, he has his own TV show where he plays the father of 12 unruly kids. And "Roy Spivey" is almost an anagram of his name. I hate anagrams. Can't do them. It has something to do with why I suck at math and anything that involves conceptualizing numbers or letters. Anyway, WHO THE HELL IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?! Any ideas? The "v" is throwing me off. All I could think of was Steve Martin, but he's no movie star heartthrob, sorry. Good story, though. She's one of those female writers that manages to show her brilliance and her insecurity all at once, kind of Nora Ephron-ish.

It wouldn't be summer if I didn't get myself into some kind of freak accident, would it. The very morning I thought to myself, "wow, it's been almost a year since I've been to the emergency room," I mangled two fingers on my right hand. How did I accomplish this? Let me tell you. I was lifting weights in the weight room and alternating between those back/tricep extension thingies and push-ups, and I was smart enough to place the 20-lb dumbbell (a round one, mind you, not one of those octagonal ones) on the bench while I was doing push-ups right next to the bench, and the mother fucker rolled off and fell directly on my hand and left two disgusting gashes. Yes, it hurt. It happened so fast that I didn't realize what was happening until blood was pouring down my hand. And seeing as I LOVE unwanted attention, I did everything I could to wrap my hand up quietly and run downstairs and try (unsuccessfully) to get the bleeding to stop.

Monumental stupidity.

Because I'm a cheapass I didn't go to the ER. I ain't payin' no $1,000+ in out-of-pocket costs, AGAIN! In retrospect, probably a dumb thing. But Swati was nice enough to look at my hand and apply her doctor skills to bandage it up and make sure it wasn't fractured or broken. I'm a little disturbed because the gashes still look kind of hideous, 3 days later, and my index finger still hurts like hell when I bend it the wrong way. But what the fuck would the ER doctor have done anyway, other than exactly what Swati did, and maybe put it in a splint? If it's fractured, it's fractured. There's not much they can do. And if there's a scar, so what? It's just my hand. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So yes, I'm just a mess right now -- I have these sexy, totally -- what's the opposite of inconspicuous? spicuous? -- bandaids on my hand, I definitely can't swim or lift weights or do anything other than spin, really, I'm still hacking and all congested, I'm having some kind of allergic reaction to this new lotion I tried, and I still can't really run because my foot is all fucked up. How old am I, again? Christ. It makes me feel for my mom and her myriad health problems.

And, my job sucks. Shit, something has got to happen really, really soon.

Edit -- I see that a side effect of insomnia is RANK STUPIDITY. Yes, I know the opposite of "inconspicuous" is "CONspicuous." I could say that this was my attempt at humor, but really, I'm obviously not 100% with it these days. I hope this isn't reflected in my actual work product (though I re-read a brief I wrote on Monday and found about 4 or 5 errors. Ugh. Cringe. It's a good thing judges don't have time to read things carefully).

I'm also beginning to suspect that the Roy Spivey mystery has no answer because her description of this person may be somewhat ironic, sort of a slap at idiots like me who have an inexplicable fascination with celebrities? Though, the tone of her story was actually self-effacing because she did derive so much strength or fascination or whatever you want to call it with her special connection with a celebrity.

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1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

oh man, thank you so much. i thought i was the only one who didn't get it! I just asked my friend and he said that he doesn't think that it was meant to be a real person...but the fact that she mentioned jason kidd suggests otherwise. ugh, but you're not alone.

11:22 AM CST  

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