Borat and snow

Coming in from Arizona tonight, where the temperature was shirtsleeves, was a rude awakening. I can't believe how much snow is on the ground. I was nervous about the landing because it was 14 degrees and the plane windows were icy, and the two-hour drive home was slow because I'm a chicken. There are healthy fears and one of them is my fear of ice. But I made it and I am tired and glad to be home.

I love going to Arizona because I get to spend time with friends, some of whom I've known since I was in 8th grade, others since I started trying to get clean 24 years ago. There's something comforting about old friends. They accept you just the way you are. It's sort of like slipping into an old leather jacket that's adjusted itself to you over the years.

I went to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan last night with a friend and I laughed so hard my incision is still hurting. I don't know what it is about the movie that made me laugh so hard, but the nude wrestling scene between Borat and his tubby manager practically had me doubled over, except I didn't want to miss a moment of it. When he sings the national anthem at the rodeo, which he actually did, by the way, and the horse falls over, well, it was just classic.

I guess the most hilarious thing about the movie is the fact that Borat (Sacha Baron Cohen) traveled around tricking people into thinking he was a legitimate journalist. That, in and of itself, is a total insult to journalists, but why not? The movie insults about everyone including gypsies, USC students, cowboys, charismatics, Uzbeks and Jews, but mostly Americans with our often narrow view of things. One of the best parts of the movie is the looks on people's faces as they watch the antics and don't realize it's for a movie. I keep laughing just thinking of their looks, like "I can't believe what I'm seeing!"

I have been accused of having a crude sense of humor, and Borat fills my crude bill, I guess. If you're easily offended, I suggest you steer clear. But if ribald parody and humor is your thing, go see Borat and laugh yourself silly. I was lying in bed last night still giggling.

As I was driving home, I was trying to remember when the last time was that I laughed so hard. I know it's been at least two years, well before the transplant. The past two years have been tough, as I was thinking on the ride home from the airport. Not that I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'm not. But I remember in early recovery going through grief over some teeth I lost due to lack of dental care when I used, so what kind of grief is there in losing a liver?

Sometimes a good laugh, or 90 minutes of laughing, is better for me than about anything else I can imagine. I am off to bed.