February 2006
Still smarting from the break-up, I didn’t eat for a week and then developed a sinus infection. Oh yeah, I was on a roll. But my brother and NYC Watchdog both threatened to kick Mark’s ass, so that was nice. I got the second inkling that my therapist may be a whack job. One of my good friends started dating a con man. That was bad.
I remember when Chris Farley died. I always had a bit of a crush on him. Funny, troubled, charming — right up my alley, or at least the type that used to be right up my alley. He also kinda reminded me of my dad, albeit much younger. The “best of” Chris Farley was on E! last night. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen it, but it still makes me laugh until I cry. I remember reading that Chris Farley’s last visitor before he died was a hooker. That always seemed so sad to me.
So 2006 is over, just about. Putting together my year-end wrap-up, I was bothered a bit that so much of my year seemed to revolve around my relationships with men. It was almost like I was trying out a new “me” and now I’m Monique 3.0 — better than before but kind of like the old me. I’m still trying to figure out the “adult” me and what it means to be a 30-something woman when most of my life I’ve relied on my intelligence and humor to charm, leaving my appearance and sex appeal a distant third. And that’s not really fair to me. I’m far more comfortable with being called “cute” than “pretty,” although I’ve been told that I’m pretty enough times that I (kind of) believe it. NYC Watchdog referred to me as “totally the girl you bring home to mom.” At first, I was like, oh my god, that’s so domestic, I left that all behind. But you know what? He’s right. I’ve lived the past two years like I’m this bad girl of sorts, when I’m so not. I’m just me. And I am cute and endearing and the girl you bring home to mom — but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be the total vixen that I think I am. So that’s why my resolution for 2007 is “be good to Monique.” The word “should” is hereby banished from my vocabulary and especially from that inner voice that I’ve had all my life, the voice that sounds like my mother. A friend told me that I just need to do whatever the fuck I want and stop caring so much about what other people think — and he’s right. So, so right.
Btw, Some Girl came up my resolution, the only one for me that I got. Some of y’all sent me your resolutions, which was cute. Especially those of you who resolved to read my blog more. Flattery gets you everywhere with me, ya know. I don’t even know what I want 2007 to bring. I’m already happy, I’m already healthy, I’m already okay.
I’m going to see “Dream Girls” this afternoon. I love that “And I Am Telling You” song. God, how I love it. I love it so much, it should be banned from all talent shows. Nine-year-old kids singing about heartbreak? Not so much. The version I’ve heard from the film isn’t as good as the original, but how could it be? Miss Jennifer Holiday can sing. Enjoy, ’cause I’m staying and you’re gonna love (deep breath) me.
Edited to Add: “Dream Girls” was great. There was only one super-cheesy movie-musical moment, this ridiculous group version of “We are a family.” After “I Am Telling You,” I had to wipe away a tear and many people in the audience broke out into applause. Eddie Murphy also was very good — I love comedians in more serious roles. Beyonce didn’t even get on my nerves. Money well spent!
I was e-mailing my brother earlier when I got the wild idea to look up the former flame.
Now, let me remind you. The former flame is the jackass that told me he had convinced himself he was gay until he met me, yadda yadda yadda. I won’t go into that train wreck, you can read about it in the archives. Anyway.
I was delusional, that’s the only thing I can come up. I was seriously hot for this guy 2+ years ago and now … gah. My mouth fell open at how awful he looks. And his photos? Him and his sister. No boyfriend. No men at all, actually. He doesn’t even say that he’s gay, just “single.” Tragic even now. I did have the naive hope that my “it’s ok to be you” speech would have actually had some impact. Or, more specifically, the way his lies temporarily ruined his life and mine, and caused him to find another job, would have actually had some impact.
Apparently not.
Our story is the one I’ll write a book about someday. No one has ever brought out both the best and the worst in me like he did, and someday I’ll be ready to put it all into words. Just not yet …
Contest! Contest! Contest! I have a red, long-sleeved Indiana University t-shirt to give away to the person who comes up with the best new year’s resolution for me. That’s right, for me. E-mail me your proposed resolution by 12/28 — monique at whenwewereliars(dot)com. Voting will be from 12/29-12/31, with the winner revealed on, of course, January 1.
The highlights:
Dad’s Presents
Bless his heart, my dad tried. I’m not sure where he got his ideas, but at least he tried. The gifts:
Mine — a wireless travel router. WTF? My mom couldn’t find the receipt and neither of us wanted to tell him I didn’t like it, so I’m stuck with it.
My mother — a labelmaker. My mom asked the question on everyone’s lips: “What the hell am I going to do with this?” She labeled all of her kitchen containers.
The Bright Side
My brother genuinely liked the books I got him, the Intellectual Devotional and Grooming Essentials for Men.
I got cash. That rocks.
The kid at Dunkin’ Donuts gave me a sweet deal on the coffee and travel mug my brother and I got for our dad. That also rocked.
I enjoyed spending time with my cousins. One thing that is kind of a downer about living in Indiana is that the people who know me here only know that post-1998 Monique and, in most cases, the post-2004 Monique. My family knows the 1974-and-on Monique. It’s nice.
The not-so-bright side
I’m worried about my dad’s health. Part of it is getting older, part of it is his own doing. He has had many addictive behaviors and over the years has replaced one with another. He can’t be happy and his life can’t be a fun one to live.
I don’t always like who I am when I’m around my family. Maybe it’s because I don’t get much time to myself. I was ecstatic to go to Speedway to get coffee in the morning, just because I could turn up the radio in my mom’s car, sing and be alone.
My mom mentioned coming to visit again. It was a disaster in April. Dis-as-ter. Gah. I’ll try to nip that one in the bud.
Today is a vacation day for me. I have been up since 5:30 a.m. Let me repeat, 5:30 a.m.
Yeah, I had a hard day, lunch with my friend, a trip to IKEA and then Starbucks, and later Barnes and Noble, but still. I’m tired.
I bought my mom a couple of audio books for Christmas and I’m on my third hour of burning them to CD. One takes 4 CDs and the other two take 6. And she wants a copy for her friend too. It’s not hard work, but it’s tedious. I can’t even keep track of which CD I’m on to write on the label. Sigh.
I fly back home tomorrow evening. Can’t wait to sleep in my bed. I can wait to return to work, as I made the mistake of checking my e-mail messages. Double sigh.
“Wayne’s World” was a hell of a lot cooler in 1992 than in 2006. My cousins and I watched it last night, it’s incredibly dated. And how could anyone buy Dana Carvey as a youngish character? Good God. He looked about 50 years old back then.
Steve Segal has made some of the worst fashion choices ever. I’m just saying. I can’t even remember which movie of his my brother and I had on today. They all run together.
I finally saw “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I liked it a lot.
Tonight we are watching “Talladega Nights” and some other Segal movie in which my brother said half of Segal’s lines are dubbed by another man. Awesome.
In other news, my mom made Cornish game hens for dinner. She ate hers with her hands. It was very medieval. My brother and I just watched her. Gah.
The plane on which I flew today resembled something you’d go white-water rafting in. “Regional jet,” my ass. I smacked my head when I stood up and I am only 5′4″. During take-off, I was concerned that my seat seemed to be reclining — I feared that the velocity or g-forces or whatever were too much for the little plane. But later I realized that in my panic — and I am not a panicky flier, far from it — I had wedged my hands at my sides, thus pressing the recline button. Oops. Anyway, I landed safe and sound.
Dinner with the relatives was fun, and my sugar-cream cake and lasagna (four trays!) were a hit. A few blog-worthy things were said but I’ll save those stories from when I am less tired. I didn’t make it to bed until after midnight and was wide awake at 5 a.m. I napped on the plane but only briefly. Needless to say, I am a tired and worn out elf.
∗ Posted by Monique on 12.23.2006
∗ Family, Holidays
∗ Comments Off
