Get On, Me

May 22, 2007: A day I think I’d rather pretend didn’t happen, and yet I cannot! It happened! And there has to be some sort of lesson in here, and I, for one, am hellbound and determined to figure out what it is. I’m pretty sure what it all means is that I have no business whining, and that I need to suck it up and stop taking life (and myself) so seriously. Yes, that’s it. Nevermind that I don’t ever take anything seriously anyway, but we’ll go with that.

For starters, I have what seems like my period again, and yet is only wild PMS mixed with other less than savory symptoms, which means, yes, it’s been less than three weeks since my last one. Menstruation and fertility is a neverending madcap adventure full of twists, turns and unexpected detours! Life is a…maxipad. Or a menstrual cup. Or something.

This excitement was followed by a surprisingly crushing work disappointment that was only eclipsed by my irritation at myself for being disappointed, which I totally didn’t expect nor want to be. But enough about that, because I can’t talk about it anyway. But suffice it to say that if these were the only two things that happened, it would have been merely a bad day. However, the events that unfolded pushed it into the realm of epic bad days.

The woman at Dollar General belched in my face when I tried to pay for my dish cloths, which were actually $3, because nothing in Dollar General is actually $1, except for day-old cookies. Dude, the clerk at Dollar General let out a ripping, stinky belch right in my face, just as I leaned over to catch the dish cloth that was slipping behind the counter, and just like that, we were nose to nose and she just…burped at me, like some kind of evil Klingon greeting. I was belched at, my friends. BELCHED.

But wait! There’s more! I got my haircut tonight, and somehow my hairdresser and I got into a discussion about weight loss and the resulting flab from some sort of wild loosening of fat or something. I mentioned that I definitely felt some things flapping around, and he actually said, “Oh yes, I see what you mean. Your arms?”

Okay, a) No, actually, I meant my ass; and b) my arms? There’s something wrong with my arms too? They’re FLAPPING? Do I have…bat wings?

I opted to end the day with a pizza and some wine, Weight Watchers be damned, because really, I can think of very few occasions where pizza and wine are more appropriate. Three people cut me in line at the pizza parlor, one of whom crushed down on my instep and elbowed me out of the way, saying, “Move it, lady, we’re picking up. Order there.” Never mind that I, too, was picking up, and was there first. And he called me lady. Am old dottering fart with bat wings.

That was not the end of the pizza disaster, because when I arrived in the parking lot, two women with no teeth were hunched around the back of a pick up smoking cigarettes, and refused to move to let me in my car, at least until they asked me what kind of pizza I had, and if they could come home with me to “snack on it” and maybe “snack on [my] sweet thighs, too!”

Seriously. And we haven’t even gotten to the Boston Celtics #5 draft pick, which sucked hairy balls, and need I remind anyone that they’ve never had a #1 draft pick – the closest they came was #2 Len Bias, who DIED, and then after that, there was the Great Tim Duncan Disaster, and now we’ve got shit, just SHIT, and as Adam put it, ten more years of bloody misery, that’s what.

However, there are good things, not the least of which is that today was so spectacularly bad that by the time the toothless women were ready to dip my thighs in Ah-So rib sauce, I couldn’t stop laughing, because honestly. Also! I got a good haircut, and because someone asked me what I look like, and I realized I deleted every photo from my archives one day when everything broke, here you go:

I can’t explain the face. Why am I gazing at you so conspiratorially? Do you want to make out behind the bleachers? Also totally worth noting that my self-portrait skills have not improved, even with the new camera, and since I don’t plan to practice, I don’t see much opportunity for advancement. And I’m still taking them in the bathroom.

Random interlude: I hate Jordin Sparks. Seriously, like, a whole lot.

Also, because dogs make everything better, and why not?

I dare you not to kiss this face. I DARE YOU.

Happy Wednesday!

*The Brother Kite. Also a song that makes everything better.

38 comments May 22nd, 2007