Tomorrow afternoon, I’m off to Michigan for the long weekend. Who knows what magical wonders await.
Actually, I do know — because I downloaded an abridged version of “My Life,” read by the author, my beloved Bill, to listen to in the car. Sigh. Six hours and 12 minutes of Bill’s voice. I know he’s my mom’s age and a total skanky man-ho, but I don’t care. I don’t know any female or gay male Democrat who wouldn’t do him. I’m just saying.
I’m sure my weekend will be a letdown after my Bill time, but I have a few other things to look forward to: lunch and margaritas with my friend Jennifer (I think she has a bone to pick with me, based on some decisions I’ve made lately. Nothing like the sass of a 18-year friendship), meeting/hanging out with my brother’s new girlfriend (word on the street is that she’s quite normal), steaks on the grill cooked by my daddy and perhaps, even the opportunity to drive my mom’s kick-ass Honda Pilot. (I’ve already been banned from driving it once.) I also have a few things in the works for next week; hopefully the activities will inject some much needed boredom relief.
I have a new obsession: A live version of “Ain’t Nobody” by Natasha and Daniel Bedingfield from the Brit Awards. If I knew how to post the song, I would. Shrieky yet oddly charming. Ha, that could describe me too. Wink.Â
My long-suffering friend S., she of the shady con-man ex-boyfriend, walked in on her ex-husband jacking off the other day. If that ain’t the perfect way to kick off the week, I don’t know what is.
She stayed home from work Monday, as she sliced open her big toe on a broken glass. Later in the day, she decided to tackle a spot of drywall that needed to be replaced and called her ex, who lives nearby (they have joint custody of their 13-year-old son) to ask if she could borrow a certain kind of saw. He is a teacher and coaches sports teams, so when he didn’t answer his cell, she figured he was at practice. She left him a VM letting him know what she was up to.
She drove over to the house (her old house) and was surprised to see his car in the drive. The garage door was open. She knocked on the door from the garage to the house. No answer. She knocked again. No answer. She turned the knob — unlocked.
As the door opened, she heard her ex say, “Hold on!” and she saw him jump up from the couch, pulling up his gym shorts. While she was averting her eyes, the TV caught her attention — cool guy was watching a porno. In shock too much to laugh, she said, “I called your cell! I need to borrow the saw!” He swaggered off to get it. Oh yeah. ‘Cause nothing makes the ladies hot like seeing their ex-husband watching porn.
When he came back, she asked if their son was staying with him tonight. He didn’t know. She asked when the boy would be home. “Oh, anytime.” What? Let me get this straight: The freak-ass is jacking off in the middle of the afternoon, in the living room, doors unlocked, blinds open, apparently unconcerned that anyone could see him. Eww eww eww.
If they weren’t already divorced, that would have been grounds right there, as far as I’m concerned. I believe “sheer nastiness” falls under irreconciliable differences.
So today was a pitch-in lunch (that’s a potluck, for those of you outside of Indiana) at a co-worker’s house. He grilled chicken and steak kabobs and we all brought different delicious and fattening items to eat. The movie “Invincible” was a topic of discussion and someone mentioned Marky Mark = Mark Wahlberg. So of course I had to start quoting “Good Vibrations.” My boss, possibly the coolest 55+-year-old woman ever, squealed, “I loved that song!” I mentioned I had it on my iPod. When we got in the car (I drove) she started chanting “Marky Mark! Marky Mark!” until I played it.
Also at lunch a song came on by Elton John that I had never heard. My coworker said the song reminded her of her college days and pantomined smoking a joint. I said, “You know, I have never done that.” and she was shocked. She knows of my family’s history with alcholism, and she in fact goes to NA meetings. I said, “What stopped me from doing drugs was the fear of going to rehab and having to sit in group therapy for a month.” She was shrieking so loudly with laughter that people came in from the other room. That was a bit embarassing, as neither of us wanted to explain what was so funny. Oh and she asked if she could share that at her NA meeting this weekend. Ah, humor in my goody-two-shoes-ness.
I am still scarred from the plethora of “Hugs Not Drugs” bumper stickers my dad brought home from AA meetings. I have a bottle of tequila a coworker gave me and I was thinking of taking it to Michigan, to see if I could get my brother to do shots with me. But the horror of possibly getting caught by our parents is too much. Mind you, I’m 31 and he’s nearly 25. Sigh. He really needs his own place!
The Air Supply in the background makes the video.
Stylist: Can I get you a glass of wine?
Me: No, I’m on antibiotics.
Stylist: Oh, that’s right, Gina said you had tonsillitis.
Me: Yeah, for like three weeks.
Stylist: You know, unprotected sex while you’re on antibiotics may make you pregnant. The drugs will interfere with the Pill.
Me: Oh my God! I don’t do that anyway!
Stylist: What, have sex?
Me: Shut up.
Last week, during a work dinner, my direct supervisor commented that I should apply for an open position, also reporting to her. I don’t have any experience directly working in our field, so I brushed it off. Today, though, she pulled my colleague into her office for a closed-door meeting about moi. Apparently she really wants me to apply and was asking him how to persuade me. It’s a lateral move, most likely no increase in salary, but I’d be writing writing writing AND I’d stop being viewed in an “administrative” capacity. Basically, it would get all of the annoying customers (and co-workers lol) off my back. I’d have a much tighter schedule, more deadlines, but I’d be writing writing writing.
I think I’ll do it.
I’m watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind, and it presents an interesting question:
Would I want someone erased from my memory?
Hmmm. John from Kansas really doesn’t serve a purpose, except then I wouldn’t have the bittersweet, “I had convinced myself I was gay until I met you” story. Sigh.
Well, not quite. But I guess I kinda look like a few. Maybe. I totally stole this from The Soda Stand, by the way. Because I’m vain, I did it twice. You can get your own celeb collage here.
It probably isn’t a good idea to yell “Holy Shit!” in a voice of abject terror during an intimate encounter.
I couldn’t help it. We were on my bed and I happen to look over in the corner, and there was one of my two cats, as casual as he could be, watching his mom.
Um, creepy.
So instead of gracefully stopping things, I chose to yell, “Holy shit, it’s Reggie!” In retrospect, it may have been a bit of an overreaction. I mean, he’s just a cat and he was just chilling on the corner of the bed, not ready to pounce on my guest or anything. I’m sure I’ll be hearing about that for a while.
Oh, and I was also mocked for my pronounciation of the following words: barrette and crayon and perhaps something else. Apparently people in Indiana say things phoenetically. So I say “cran” instead of “cray-on.” Blow me.
I love Alison Krauss. Her voice is so pure. I was introduced to her music by the man whom I refer to as the former flame. He put a few of her songs on two really ill-conceived mix CDs. (I’m still a bit bitter about him overnighting the CDs — full of love songs — to me so I’d receive them the weekend my ex moved out. Then he told me the songs didn’t mean anything. Fucker.) I still can’t listen to “When You Say Nothing At All,” without thinking of that jackass. Or “New Favorite,” for that matter, but they’re both excellent songs.
If you’ve never listened to her music, here are my recommendations (links open in iTunes):
1. “New Favorite.”
2. “Forget About It.”
3. “Goodbye Is All We Have.”
4. “Restless.”Â
5. We Hide and We Seek (not available on iTunes — on the Live CD).
It’s interesting to me when I mention that I like Alison Krauss’s music, how many men perk up. They all comment on how “throaty” her voice is. I’m not sure what that means, but it seems to be a big turn-on. The funny thing is that when I went to her concert, she was a total dork when it came to stage banter.
Enjoy!
