Yeah, I’m in the Hospital General De Rio. But the worst part about this whole thing isn’t the rabies, it’s that in my drunken post-bite whirlwind I left my laptop on the beach. So while some idiot with a metal detector (or just eyes that work) is going through all my personal shit on my ibook, I’m on a computer at the nurse’s station and may have just deleted a file of patients and their medications. Oops.
But lemme tell ya, there’s nothing like a li’l rabies scare to speed up a relationship. Actually, they don’t even think it’s rabies, but just in case they shot me up with antibiotics and kept me here to see if I’d start frothing at the mouth. I haven’t yet but I did borrow some shaving cream from an orderly and put it on the corners of my lips and pretended I was frothing for Richard. I thought it was hysterical and was giggling throughout but he got REALLY mad – I’m talkin bulging pulsing thumping forehead vein mad. Richard said that I shouldn’t be joking around like that because I’m in the hospital and then I replied that this is exactly where joking around is needed! Did he not see Patch Adams? (neither did I and I’m sure it blew, but you get the point.) Anyway, I told him that I couldn’t be with someone who yelled at me for making a joke, to which he replied: “It’s only because I care about you and love you.” Yep, he said the “L” word, and he wasn’t talkin about the Showtime series with the cute dykey-dykes. But I was totally stumped and had NO idea how to respond -- say it back? Froth at the mouth s’more? Press the nurse’s call button and ask her? I ended up doing something I’ve never done in my entire life: I shut up. And it worked! (no wonder marlee matlin is married) Richard walked over, apologized and hugged the shit out of me.
Although I’m not sure if I love Richard back yet (guess I’m not as easy that way as I am in the having sex very very soon way), I have a good feeling about things. He’s cute and rich and we’ve had simultaneous orgasms (mine was louder).
So I’m sitting here in my tight blue denim sundress waiting for my official release, which Richard and the doctor are working out right now in the hallway -- but actually, since I don’t speak Portuguese, am not really sure. Oh geez, I hope he’s not a lying sack of shit who’s making a deal to sell my kidneys and other body parts! Maybe he’s not even a banker and he got rich from stealing spleens! I better pick up one of those rings that ejects pepper-spray just in case…. but in the meantime, we're heading off to the Amazon to see rainforest-y crap. (no offense, Sting!) So I'll keep borrowing computers whenever I can to keep you guys posted on how Richard and I are doing... and if I still have all my organs.
By the way, people keep asking me if the fact that I’m in Rio means that “Good Girls Don’t” isn’t coming back. I have no clue, pals. But if you DO want to see more of “Good Girls Don’t”, please write to firstname.lastname@example.org
Meanwhile, I’ll be here and Oxygen has my number in Brazil. So until then… Ciao, fuckers!