Disorder

I have a house full of people. Lots and lots of people, and more people are coming tomorrow, and while it’s fine – really, it’s totally fine – I think what’s most exhausting is that I’m never alone, not for one second, which makes me want to do weird things, like grab the first flight to a big city and wear cute shoes and wander the streets by myself, alone in the crowd with nothing but music in my ears.

New music! In my iPod, which will now be very full, very shortly, thanks to everyone. Really – thank you. I’ve had time to listen to exactly zero of your recommendations, but I’ll say that I’m pretty excited about it. Ooh ooh, and that song I referred to? It’s here, along with a few others. Go on and have a listen. Pretty! And heartbreaking. And it really makes me want to – you guessed it – be miraculously transported to a very large city wearing cute shoes and wandering the streets the way I did when I was 25 and start it all over again, just for one day.

“Just let me be here. I won’t tell anyone…” Le sigh. First, I need cute shoes.

What would you guys have done if I just printed the entire lyrics of the song with some seriously emo photo of myself – maybe in black eyeliner – with a tear emphasized by the macro setting? Could you imagine? Because I can, and every time it actually happens anywhere else, I ponder killing myself, very slowly, maybe with a soup spoon.

Yesterday I got into someone else’s car for the second time, which means it might be time to get rid of the black Honda Accord, because apparently the streets are rife with them. Yes, yes, the one I got into was green, and a totally different year, but it was overcast. Also, I may have taken a sip of someone else’s diet Pepsi while trying to figure out why my key wouldn’t go into the ignition before I looked around and realized hey, this interior is…gold…and mine is…gray. And oh holy shit, this is not my Pepsi. I mean, I’m not saying definitely, I’m just saying it’s possible.

In other, infinitely less gross news, dude, I’m small. Or at least smaller. And while I don’t really want to go into sordid details, let’s just say I’ve lost a Sunny and a half, and given that I’ve got 13 left, um, that’s a little frightening, in kind of a mixed good/bad way. What I think is most upsetting is that my clothes fit better. A lot better. Which to me definitely means I had no business wearing them at a Sunny and a half heavier. No no, I did not. I am, however, regretting not taking a “before” picture, which would never be for public consumption (No Flickr. Never.), oh my God, although I can say that it wouldn’t have been in a folding chair wearing a muumuu with a plate full of potato salad and a plastic fork (why?).

Also, oh my GOD, I can’t believe I forgot to mention this, and it involves, um, the Moon Cup. Again. But this is important, because nothing says “I love the Moon Cup!” like a UTI, which is what I was graced with earlier in the week. And while normally, pissing razor blades is something I like to keep to myself (or not), did you know that the Keeper people acknowledge that this is a potential side effect of sorts? I KNEW it was blooming too close to important parts, I just KNEW IT. However, let it be known that I am extremely susceptible to these sorts of things, scoring my first one at age 13, which prompted The Sex Talk from my mother, to my endless humiliation and horror, because how else could I have gotten a UTI? From some wild escapade in the back of a GTI, of course. When except, um, no. That wouldn’t be until much later. (Oh yes. At a drive-in movie. Because I was classy like that, even at 16.)

Anyway, um, the Moon Cup is a risk factor for UTIs. However, some of us are on prophylactic antibiotics and can prevent such things, at least when we remember to take them. But consider yourself warned.

Have a great weekend.

*Joy Division

20 comments April 12th, 2007