Friday, August 29, 2008

"Mom, dad...I need a sex change"

If you've followed this blog for more than a month, you should now be familiar with the "this could only happen to Michelle " premise. I'm convinced that I am secretly cast in some kind of prank show and am long overdue on my royalty compensations.

A few days ago, I went to the official government registry office to pick up my birth certificate.  I was born in Mexico, so obviously, I went to the Mexican offices.  Its a simple process, really.  You show up, wait a minute in line, say your name and get your paper.  Of all the transactions in the country, this is the easiest one to do.  

As I exited the office with document in hand, I  noticed a small but very significant error.  Under the place where it identified the sex of the person, I was posted as a MALE.   I got back in the line, pointed out the obvious mistake and we both chuckled about it.  The clerk assured me that the document would be corrected by noon on the following day.  

When I returned to the offices, I was met by a very serious woman with a pile of papers. It was my file.  At the bottom of her stack was a form, hand written by some kind of judge.  She highlighted the following statement:

"Michelle Gomez (a.k.a,  me)  was presented to me on the year of 1978 by ________, mother and __________, father (names left out for their protection) and I certify that the child is a live boy."

Crap.

The clerk explained to me that a mistake like that cannot be changed due to all the people having sex changes these days (was she suggesting I was one of them?!).  Now, in order to be considered as a female to my country I must appeal my sex change to a judicial system.

But it gets trickier than that, you see.

They are asking for a number of papers, all of which I have- save one.  Its a certificate of baptism.  A religious baptism.  Mexico is such a catholic country that they apparently use the baptism document as a legally binding one.  Without it, I cannot have my sex changed.  The problem is that I was never baptized as a baby because I AM NOT CATHOLIC!  

So, once I have gone through all the loops and what nots, once I have had an appointment with a judge, once I show that I have no baptism document- I will be sent to have a physical examination.  This of course, to determine that I do have a legitimate vagina.

go figure.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Why me? So I could blog about it...

Last week was a pretty rough one. Katy had developed EXOTROPIA, more commonly known as "lazy eye." She required surgery, and I wont go much into detail. Instead, I'll just let this picture explain what she went through:





A terrible week goes down the john



The surgery was done in San Antonio, and we stayed at my brother in law's house. Three days after the surgery we decided that we had been cooped up long enough. We went to the zoo.

San Antonio in August is not the breeziest of spots. It was scorching. Nevertheless, by the time we arrived home we were exhausted. We spent most of our time sweating and petting the animals at the petting zoo. Too tired to shower, I went to bed smelling like a zoo animal.

The next morning we were scheduled for an appointment with Katy's eye doctor. Once he OKayed her, we would be free to go home. I woke up with plenty of time, so I took the morning slow and easy. After drinking my morning coffee, nature began to call. Isaac had gone before me, and I would have to wait.

As I heard him flush, I picked up a book with useless facts and tidbits to keep me entertained while on the pot (c'mon, you know you do it too). I didnt hear fate chuckle when I read the chapter on "labatory deaths." It seemed interesting enough, and It kept me engaged. I finished up and flushed the toilet.

Oh no.

It was not going down, instead it began to bubble up. I saw my life flash in front of me as the water began to rise. Would it stop? I frantically picked up all my clothes off the floor.

Did I mention I was naked?

I had planned to shower after my morning dump. Now, I stood in the middle of my brother in law's bathroom wearing nothing but my birthday suit as I tried to apease the toilet demons with heartfelt implorations.

But the bubbles continued. Suddenly, the toilet began to erupt, like a volcano- spewing my feces all over a bathroom that did not belong to me. I wrapped myself in a towel and ran to the living room, where my husband chatted with his brother. I poked my head from behind the wall-

"Psst! Isaac!"

"What?"

"Um. Run. There's an emergency!"

Knowing what a drama queen I can be, my husband paid little heed to my alarm and paced slowly in the direction of the bathroom. The look of horror flashed through his eyes as he peaked into the scene. The toilet had slowed by now, and the discharge was slowly seeping through the sides. I was soaking up as much gunk as I could with a mountain of paper towels. To this moment- I was still wearing nothing but a towel.

"Why now?" I wined "we have to go to the doctor in half an hour and I smell like a zoo!"

"Dont flush. Just get in the shower," Isaac grunted "I'll fix the toilet, " he said as he walked away in disgust.

My husband had just returned from a trip to Asia and Europe. I hadn't seen him for six weeks! This was not the sort of reunion I had dreamed about. Surely I could fix the toilet on my own. It was, after all, my own poop.

I braced myself as I looked into the comode. Eureeka!! The water had gone down. I flushed again, but apparently, this sort of sacrifice did not appeace the toilet demon. He raged much worse than the time before.

Gurgle!


Gargle!


Bubble!



Bloop!



Bubble!

Bubble!


Glup!



E X P L O O O O O D E E E !!!


This was unlike any plumbing violence I had ever witnessed. It surpased my wildest imagination and my worst fears. There was no stopping it. I shouted to Isaac, who came running this time. By the time I saw his face, it was completely devoid of color.

"Did you flush!?" He shouted "Why would you do that?!"

"I was just trying to fix it!" I protested as the toilet continued cascading.

"It was a simple order! You should have done what I said!" he accused

"Well, if you had'nt gone before me-" I stated defensively "your TURD wouldnt have blocked my turd!"

"Mine went down just fine!" he said indignantly as the toilet continued to pour putridness "its your turd that got jamed in there!"

It was a pathetic sight: Reunited husband and naked zoo smelling wife shouting about turds as the toilet exploded. The arguing continued until the toilet ceased spewing. This time, the waters had gone all the way out the bathroom and began to seep into the carpet.

crap.

Suddenly, my brother in law made an entrance. Out of nowhere, he had brought an industrial vaccum cleaner and a genius idea.

"Just vaccum up the S#!T and then mop up the floor," he suggested, half gagging as he darted away.

Stinky, sweaty and angry I got dressed, rolled up my pants and got down to buisness. It was teamwork like you've never seen. Wife moping up poop and husband unclogging toilet. It was the epitome of romance, and an outstanding ending to an already stressful week.


And wouldnt you know it, it happened to me.