RIP jew horn

for the past 10 years, i've had a fatty cyst on the top of my head that those in the know have endearingly referred to as "the jew horn." i only had one, because i'm only half jewish.

(compounding ironic digressions:
-i was once asked by one of my texan cousins where i was hiding my horns, as i was a jew.
-fatty cysts run in the goyishe, texan side of the mishpucha)

throughout the years, i've asked various doctors if they want to poke, test or remove the jew horn--but the response has always been that unless it grows bigger or starts to bother me, it would be unnecessary.

2 weeks ago, it started hurting so i decided it was time to say goodbye.

monday was that day.

dr. avram (chosen for his chosenness and close proximity to work) and his lovely, sweet assistant magda, explained that they would sit me down, numb the area, cut me open, pop it out and sew me back up. the entire excision should take no longer than 20 minutes and i wouldn't feel a thing after the initial anesthetic.

and thus, my jew horn was removed. truly a sad day for protocols of the elders of zion enthusiasts everywhere.

now, they said that there might be some oozing, and i was given gauze pads.

they said that there might be some complications, should i shampoo and not rinse thoroughly enough.

they said i should wait a few days to blow dry my hair.

they said that there might be some slight discomfort, in which case i should take tylenol, not advil.

they DID NOT say that when the anesthesia wore off, my head would feel there was a searing hot machete in the middle of it-and accordingly, no, i was not given any kind of sufficient pain relief medication.

fuckers.

anyway. i get back to work, cannot think straight, chow down on extra strength tylenol (hardcore, right?) and miserably suffer through the rest of the day, wanting nothing more than to be at home, listening to bebe gilberto in my bed with the lights off.

but of course, this was not meant to be.

my amazing and very talented friend shanna (myspace.com/shannazell) was playing a show that, for both personal and professional reasons, was a big deal to her. big enough that i was not going to dissapoint, no matter how sorry i was feeling for myself.

so, i prepared myself mentally and physically. (for the record, marijuana is a much more effective pain reducer than tylenol.) and off i went.

on the train ride over, i started thinking about how i would explain my reticent disposition. people expect borderline annoying boisterousness from me, and i couldn't see straight... explaining the whole cyst issue and back history is aggravating and decidedly unsexy:

yes, i know it's disgusting

no, it didn't hurt forever, only for the past two week

no, i don't have cancer

yes, they're going to biopsy it

yes, i did get stitches

no, i didn't go under general anesthesia

no, i didn't get pain killers

yes, i will have a scar

no, you can't look at it...

the cover story was that i was bitten in the head by a baby albino tiger while taking my niece to the petting zoo. to make sure that further interrogation was avoided, i would add definitively that i was insisting on having the beast put to sleep.

mind you, throughout the night people actually believed this bullshit. i didn't know whether to be more upset that people thought i was evil enough to have a baby tiger killed, or concerned that people were so dumb that they bought the story...

i mean come on, tigers at the petting zoo!??!

anyway, on with the evening...

upon arrival at rockwood music hall, i offer shanna whatever help i can give her and she graciously declines. i sit at the bar to order a seltzer water (it was time for tylenol dose number 2), the bartender looks at me and asks if i had purchased my jacket at beacons closet recently.

"why yes," i respond. "how did you know?"

apparently, she had purchased it on ebay, it didn't fit her right, she sold it to beacons closet on friday and i purchased it the next afternoon for a mere 300% mark up. (sounds like a lot, but fret not. i got it for 18 bucks)

of all the thrift stores, and all the days, and all the jackets, and all the bartenders in new york city, i bought this girls jacket. what are the odds?!?

so anyway, as i sit there, chatting with the very stylish and charming bartender, shanna walks over with the action figure of the wannabe british invasion hipster. he's tall and handsome, with perfectly messy hair that probably had 15$ worth of bumble and bumble styling products in it, and is wearing a military inspired jacket and skinny jeans. (very original)

he introduces himself as 'jerry cherry'. i extend my hand, please to meet this lovely, unique, young fellow and introduce myself as nora bora. the explora.

well, that conversation did not go much further.

needless to say, shanna put on an excellent show despite her guitar having broken that afternoon--and i didn't want to die! (well maybe a little bit, when there was feedback.)

now, you must be thinking:
"you are the great dame for a reason. what a trooper, what a sport... going to a show to support a friend the day you get minor surgery. you pulled through and now you get to go home to enjoy the rest of your evening peacefully."

but you'd only be partially right.

monday was the birthday of kennedy. also known as princess drennedy mellifluous the first.

for those of you who do not have the pleasure of knowing this chocolate goddess of a crazy woman, from the aforementioned title you be able to infer that there was no backing out of that either.

long story short, we had a FANTASTIC dinner at counter-hummous royale with veggie merguez, cheese, paella, vegetables, the works... we finish up with a celebratory hazelnut ice creame-esque concotion for desert-with a rendition of happy birthday that had the entire restaurant applauding. and yes, we kept our clothes on.

as we pile back out onto the sidewalk to go our separate ways, i declare my cash poorness and start for the subway. turner, god bless her soul, shoves a 20 in my hand and hails a cab for me, insisting that when anything is cut out of your head you shouldn't have to take the subway home. what a gal.

so i get in a cab heading north on first avenue, settle in and ask the driver to take me to brooklyn by way of bowery and the manhattan bridge. he turns left on 7th street and as we approach 2nd ave i hear the blinker go back on... i ask if theres a problem with 3rd ave or if we can just take bower as i requested-not an unreasonable request, or so i thought.

he turns left onto second avenue anyway and says "maybe it's better if you take another cab."

and now i can say that i've been kicked out of a cab, which had never happened before despite any number of improprieties and illegalities...

so i get out, hail another one, go home, dress my wound and go to sleep.

thankfully, upon waking up yesterday, my head hurt significantly less.

today i was even able to shampoo!