And Through the Wire

First, can I fleetingly mention how much I adore Pushing Daisies? Love. LOVE. Who is this Chuck actress? And when can I make out with her? Because I love her. LOVE. And also, she’s more than a little hot.

So! Before the man in my life books me on the next flight to Chuck’s hometown for the mere potential for some hot girl-on-girl action, let’s move into an ungraceful segue, shall we? One of my longtime friends deliberately, and rather calculatedly, didn’t invite me to her wedding. However, she invited literally every other friend in our small circle, and I can’t help but be … stung by this. I’m also stung by the fact that she still hasn’t told me she’s married.

That kind of sucks, and I think maybe … I think maybe we’re done, and that makes me a little sad, though if I’m honest with myself, it was a long time coming. But mostly, it makes me angry, because really, it’s not the wedding, it’s the conscious decision not to tell me about it that gets me.

Sorry. I usually don’t do that, bringing out the dirty laundry and all. And to the closet it goes again!

Moving on! I’m a bit disturbed lately by the appearance of antibacterial gels in ladies’ rooms, very often in lieu of actual soap, given that the antibacs merely kill the germs, but do not whisk them away. And personally, I don’t necessarily groove to a bunch of pee molecule carcasses dangling about on people’s hands, when they could be swirling down the drain where they belong. I also might add that I am not proud of the fact that it does color my opinion of someone if I learn that they don’t wash their hands after using a public restroom. I know it’s awful, but it does.

Speaking of restrooms, as a vague (and clearly very scientific) anthropological study: which stall do you gravitate towards? I find myself mysteriously drawn to either the farthest stall or, if there is one, to the handicapped stall. This concerns me, for I think it’s a very popular choice, as many of us don’t like to feel encased like a sausage while we pee, and hovering is hard in a single stall. I also believe that I’ve read studies to this effect, and doesn’t it have to do with pheromones or something? Gross. It’s gross. Am I attracted to these stalls because of the number of people who use them? Is that it? Wait wait — don’t tell me.

And finally, I live in a relatively small neighborhood that, like every other neighborhood in the state, is just off of what is basically a highway, meaning that I only run in the same three sad little circles all morning long. This means, unfortunately, that I pass the same neighbors over and over and over again, and while the first time I smile and say hello, I am at an utter loss as to what to do during laps two through eleven. My plan thus far has been to alternately wave and stare awkwardly at the ground, assuming I’m not grunting, panting and otherwise focusing all of my energy on merely surviving. What, however, is the proper etiquette? I’m assuming picking your underwear out of your ass is not an appropriate greeting, however I seem to do that a lot.

Sorry for whining. I hope you have a great Thursday. (THURSDAY. HALLELUJAH THURSDAY) (Even though I have to work Sunday.)

*Peter Gabriel

46 comments October 10th, 2007