Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Friday, March 31, 2006

Beans' Brush with Death

Man, oh man. There's actually no way to post this business without the photos-- I can TELL you that I held a day-old runt goat in my arms at a cheese farm, but you really need to SEE his lippy little goat grin on film to appreciate it.

I ate so much on this trip, I can't believe I'm alive. One night I actually woke up in terrible, terrible shooting stomach pain. As I moaned and rolled like a beached whale, my mom suggested I might be having a "gaul bladder attack." WHATEVER THAT MEANS. I associate gaul bladder problems, like gout, with men like Captain Ahab or Martin Van Buren. How could a beautiful young maiden like me get a gaul bladder attack? Would I officially have to start smoking snuff and reading sequential volumes about British naval history??

It turned out that as I did every night in France, I had simply overeaten. But really really bad. The pain went away after a day or so, but not before my mom had to contemplate driving me to a French hospital to get "de la morphine, s'il vous plait." In 1998 I had my one encounter with a French hospital. I sprained my ankle dancing to Rusted Root at a house party. It was a light sprain, but the doctor put me in a full, hard, bright green leg-foot cast, and gave me a pair of polio crutches with elbow braces. Eventually I realized how ridiculous this was, sawed my own cast off with a butter knife and healed the sprain with a bandage.

I have no idea what they would have done for my "gaul bladder attack"...(in reading the following, please ascribe a ridiculous accent to all French parties.)

Mom: HELP! [dragging me in by one arm to emergency room, where everyone is chain smoking]
French Doctor: What's the matter??
Mom: I think my daughter's having a gaul bladder attack!
French Doctor: She was attacked by one of my countrymen? Have you called the police?
Mom: No, her gaul bladder, it needs to be removed!
French Doctor: Are you a trained medical professional, madame?
Mom: No.
French Doctor [looking concerned]: Then you had better not remove her gaul bladder.
French Doctor: Oui, Nurse?
Nurse: There is a woman who is fresh out of Cotes du Rhone over there!
French Doctor: WELL REFILL HER GLASS, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! Nurse! [whispering] Are you a trained medical professional?
Nurse: [whispering] Non, I am a waitress.
French Doctor: MMmmbut of course.
Julia: OUCH OUCH OUCH, my stomach still hurts!
French Doctor: Good point. Are YOU a trained medical professional?
Julia: No.
Mom: What seems to be the problem, doctor?
French Doctor: ...nothing... The problem is, she's having a gaul bladder attack!
Mom: I knew it!
Julia: Really? A gaul bladder attack? But you didn't even examine me.
French Doctor: But I barely know you! You want to get in a little gown and play princess, you do it on your own time. YOU are having a GAUL BLADDER ATTACK!
Julia: But I thought that was an old man's disease.
French Doctor: Well, now you are the man. TO THE MAN!
[Emergency room raises their glasses, doctor puts 12 cigarettes in JULIA's mouth and lights them.]
French Doctor: And now, we will put your leg in a cast. Do you concur?
Mom: Absolutely!


"Don't worry about me! My gaul bladder's on the mend!"


At 1:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

as much as the French are to blame, it's GALL bladder, not GAUL bladder.



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