When You Wake Up Feeling Old

First of all, it’s October, and do you know what that means? The penis ghost is coming! The penis ghost is coming! Also, whatever, I’m totally finding a costume for Sunny, I don’t care who mocks us. She will wear something festive. SHE WILL.

We’re digging through the garage now in search of our rogue Halloween decorations — the one holiday we decorate for, every year, as it’s the only one we’re ever here for in its entirety — and oh my God, there are dead! roaches! everywhere! There was lots of screaming, squealing and running away from the dead bodies, because EW ROACHES, and also, does this mean they’re in my house? I’ve never seen one, but the BODIES. THE ROACHY CARNAGE. Heaven help us.

As part of the hunt, I also threw away a purse in the garage that once held a snake that was trapped in our garage, and clearly, it was a doomed purse, because would YOU ever use a purse that once contained a black snake? I think not. Also, do you say purse, pocketbook, handbag or bag? Pocketbook is extremely old-ladyish, and hey, do you know there is an entire LEGION of people who get extremely offended if you use the term “old ladyish,” because it implies that old women are BAD BAD creatures who are no longer viable members of society? Personally, I find the whole notion of semantics to be a little bit ridiculous, because honestly, my mother IS an old lady by some standards, and yet she would not flinch to ask me if something was “old ladyish,” and not in a good way.

I’m not saying that makes it right, I’m just saying … well, I don’t know. I think I’m saying I have better things to do than debate the semantics of the term and what harm it brings to feminism. I might as well use the term “patriarchy” in a sentence with a straight face. I’m sorry. I know this makes me a bad feminist, but seriously, sometimes? I wish we’d focus on more substantive issues, rather than becoming distracted by linguistic signs (oh my God, do we want to talk about Saussure? Ooh ooh — how about Derrida?). (Actually, you know what? TwoBusy LOVES to talk about literary theory. You can discuss further with him!)

Anyway! Hey look, my dad is having hip replacement surgery tomorrow, and I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much. Yes, I’m worried about him, you know, because it’s surgery, and he’s going under and the last time he went under it was because he had cancer, which he thankfully survived. It’s also that it’s hip surgery, and it seems like that stands for some sort of foray into having old parents, and my dad, though no longer invincible (having a dad with colon cancer will do wonders to shatter that image), is barely old enough for hip replacement surgery. That’s for ladies who fall and can’t get up and need buttons to alert the authorities of their mere existence. It’s not for my dad, you know?

And on a lighter — or shall I say doughy– note, I went running one too many times with my wedding rings on, and I developed a (oh my God) yeast infection under my wedding ring and my left finger is branded with a red, flaky crust that won’t go away. The sweat trapped in a moist (OMG) wedding ring with little exposure to the air apparently created the ideal environment for yeast, which means that yeast infections are no longer just for cooches. And guess who’s been smearing Monistat cream all over her fingers? GO ON, GUESS.

And with that, I’m off to ponder Saussure and Derrida (ha HA! Not really, but could you imagine? I shall unlock the mysteries of the sign and the signifier! With illustrations! And I Heart Huckabees! Wait — that’s exisentialism. I mean Adaptation!) and uselessly fret about my dad’s ailing hip and also maybe think about the hotness that is Peter Petrelli and also ask, that chick who plays the Spanish-speaking woman with the creepy eye-bleeding power — is that the same chick who played AJ’s slightly slutty girlfriend Blanca on the Sopranos?

P.S. I just brought a bowl of stinky radishes into bed. Guess who’s not getting any tonight, what with the yeasty finger and toe jam radishes? YUMMAY.

Happy Hip Tuesday! It’s going to be fine. *breathes into paper bag*

*Wilco. Two days in a row.

28 comments October 1st, 2007