Remember the first episode of Joey, when he first made it out to California, and to his apartment, and his new place had a fabulous view of the "OLLYWOO" sign? Well, those eight days I was tethered with twenty-seven wires coming out of my head, leading to a cart, which had a video camera, which was supposed to record brainwaves and seizure activity, so I could just make it to the bathroom and back, my view was a brick wall that said, "METH HOSP."

Okay, I so wanted, like, three different times this week, to get my hair lopped off. But I just cannot cheat on Mary. I have this profound Stylist Loyalty to her, and that is just that. Even though schedules don't gel and she's not open when Erik can drive me down to San Antonio.

And wouldn't you know, Murphy's Law, just when you gear yourself up to hack off your hair to make the EEG glue easier to get out later, and ya talk your husband into it, then like, three people tell you your hair is gorgeous. Wonderful. Beautiful. No, no, no, don't ever cut it. And I just can't go into the whole story with every single woman I run into in front of every single bathroom mirror, everywhere, as it doesn't flow appropriately. Because there are people waiting in line for the sink.

Okay, I have this bad cold right now. I have GOT to stop sneezing before next Friday. If I sneeze inside that thing, and my nose touches the roof of the MRI machine, and I get that "Buried Alive Feeling," something bad's gonna go down.

I know I kind of told you this was coming, but didn't really tell ya what or when.

Next Friday, I am going to have a two-hour functional MRI. Now, normally these things take 20-45 minutes, which is plenty long. Normally, I try to fall asleep, in order to make the time pass and keep myself still enough to not totally FREAK OUT. But this time, this particular time, they're gonna measure blood flow in my noggin while I'm in there, so I have to tap my fingers and read and move body parts during this time span. In other words, I have to stay completely awake and aware.

Over the last (almost) seven years, I have developed a system for my MRI adventures, and that system does not involve moving during the scans. If I move and actually feel my restrictive surroundings, the technicans are gonna see a whole 'nuther area of my brain light up. 'Twill be something to behold.

To follow, there will be an EEG to map the brain, and a few days of inpatient seizure video monitoring. Pretty.

So Moussaoui was given Life without Parole, and not an instant Death Penalty. Perhaps, just perhaps, that is justice right there.

2006 Count is at seven. Muahahahaha. Ala Peanut Butter Sandwiches. I will explain this all later, I promise.