HER WEAPON OF CHOICE...

LET THERE BE COMMENTS...

To all six of you who read this blog, I finally figured out how to enable comments. Yeyeah!! All you have to do it highlight a section of text and add your two cents. Big ups to LineBuzz for being the first site I clicked on when I Googled “tumblr + enable comments”.

If that’s not a sparkling endorsement, I don’t know what is.

THE PLACES YOU HAVE COME TO FEAR THE MOST

I was on the phone with Bridget yesterday and she told me her friend Karen was asking about me. I used to be friends with Karen years ago when the three of us held parties for The O.C. every Thursday and went to see Bridget’s husband’s band open up for Ringworm at the Pirate’s Cove. Howev, Karen wasn’t a fan of my potty humor and soon kicked me to the curb after Bridget and I kept making inappropriate advances towards her Gucci purse, which we affectionately called “The Gooch.” We’d say things like, “Hey Kar, how big is your Gooch?,” “Have you ever had anything explode in your Gooch?, “Careful! I think I see a black curly hair on your Gooch!” Needless to say, I was pretty much blacklisted from Karen’s presence effective immediately. I don’t know why. I mean, the whole schtick was pretty hilarious, if I do say so myself.

In recent years, we’ve been cordial toward one another, often asking Bridget (our common ground) how the other is doing, mostly just to be polite. Well, apparently Karen asked how I was doing sans job and what I was doing to occupy my time. Bridget, in her adorably nasal Northern Ohio twang, replied, “She’s busy writing the book and everything. Besides that, I’m sure she’s worrying about something over there in that lil’ apartment of hers.” I got a good giggle out of it. After all, to know me is to love me… and all my adorable anxieties. 

Sure, my neuroses are endearing—at least that’s what I tell myself—but I can’t remember a time in recent years where I wasn’t agonizing, editing and/or obsessing over some major—or minor—detail of my life. I’ve even started worrying about worrying. Sleep has become my enemy and more often than not, I wake up in the middle of the night after some ambiguously horrible dream and once I catch my breath, I’m driven to do the most inane things like reorganize the pots and pans drawer in the kitchen, dust my bookshelves, or cut up the green pepper I bought at the grocery earlier that day. If you were to chop open my head, you’d see my thoughts swirling around in a cerebral Tour de France, speeding over jumps, bumping into corners and falling over each other in one big heap. It’s exhausting to write about, let alone live through. Trust. 

I am not myself these days. There’s so much happening in and around me right now that I can hardly keep up. Sometimes I feel like I’m on autopilot, stopping only when necessary to refuel and bathe. It seems like the only way to calm the winds of change is to fold dish towels and download Katy Perry songs on my iPod shuffle. How depressing is that? I’m thinking about calling Dr. Rey to see if Dr. 90210 can operate to remove my worry warts. Hell, if they can perform a Brazilian butt lift, they can do anything, right?

If only life was like a DVD I could pause, fast-forward and rewind. That way, I could get to all the good parts without sitting through a really self-indulgent monologue or a montage of depressing break-ups and breakdowns. If it were only that easy, I’d go right to my bonus features and play all of the good times I’ve had in hopes of reminding me of all those that are inevitably yet to come.

I know there are more to come. 

There are more to come, right?

Until then, all I can do is keep my fingers crossed, pair some socks, and let Chris sing me to sleep…

I can only hope… and listen to Chris cover Grade.

IT'S ALL HAPPENING!

Let the pre-orders begin.

OMAHA

Sorry for the lack of updates. I’m knee-deep somewhere in Middle America. Stay tuned…

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BIKE?

I’ve been having the most vivid, David Lynch-esque dreams for the past couple months and they’ve totally intensified over the past week or two. I keep getting haunted by ghost of douchebags past and it’s really starting to mess with my head. Last night was especially mind-boggling. I was trying to get my bike fixed and couldn’t figure out where to take it. This wasn’t just a regular bike, though. It was like a motorcycle slash Vespa slash tricycle thingy. I kept asking people where to take it and no one could give me an answer. I start asking people from AP, people from high school, even strangers on the street. 

Nada.

Finally, I take it to this bike repair shop that’s in the back of a grocery store. I leave it with them and then I’m instantly transported to the inside of a theater. Not a movie theater, but a theater where they have plays and orchestra concerts. (Now, I was watching The Adventures Of Baron Von Munchausen before I went to bed last night, so that probably accounts for some of the wackiness.) So I’m sitting in this red plush velvet seat next to my friend Kris*, whom I haven’t spoken to in over two years. All of a sudden, I lay my head on his shoulder while we’re watching this life-sized puppetry performance on stage. He has a beard and it’s prickly against my cheek. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by this feeling of missing him, even though he’s sitting right next to me. Then he kisses my nose, I close my eyes and wake up.

What does it all mean, Jackie Stallone?

I’ll tell you one thing: I haven’t spoken to Kris in over two years and I do, in fact, miss the crap out of him. He was one of the funniest, most adorable, super-interesting, weird, odd birds I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I don’t think I ever had more fun with any other human being in the history of my life. We could make each other laugh by just staring at each other. Unfortunately, things got all messed up, he was a jerk and I ran full-speed in the opposite direction—as per usual. I miss him most when I go to NYC. He was my permanent +1 and in a time when most of my friends are moving in with their bfs, getting engaged and popping out babies, there was something comforting in always having someone to hang out with, which leads me to this question…

Do you ever feel like you’ve had all the fun you’re ever going to have in your life? Do you feel like all the most funnest times are behind you and nothing will ever compete with the memories you’ve already made?

Some days I do, and today is one of those days. 

* The names have been changed to protect the identity of the not-so-innocent—and so I don’t get super-embarrassed in case this post ever comes back to haunt me.  

MORE ADVENTUROUS

First off, I have to apologize to all my Chilean readers for the lack of weekend bloggage. I was actually productive… If you can believe it. I know I can’t! I took a trip in my Geographical Central Standard Time Machine to the wilds of Minneapolis where I drank a round with Paul Westerberg and watched some ’70s TV with Motion City Soundtrack. Don’t worry if you’re confused. It’ll all make sense in due time. Swears. 

I did a load of laundry this morning and ran into my next door neighbors. It’s an older couple (around the age of my parents), who are both super nice. I think the wife’s mute, though, because she never says a word. Not a boo. She just stands there and smiles. Sometimes she’s holding cleaning supplies. Today it was a bunch of quilts. Weird, right? The guy, on the other hand, can’t stop talking to me. He’s so nice and really interested in the young whipper-snapper living next door. “We haven’t seen you in a while,” he said to me today as he and Helen Keller got on the elevator. I never really know if he’s talking to me because he’s always wearing one of those bluetooth headsets on his ear and unless I see him face-to-face, I just assume he’s talking to a mysterious quilt cleaner on the other end or something.

I kind of chuckled when he basically accused me of being a hermit because 1.) I’ve maybe seen the guy four times in the past eight months I’ve lived in this apartment building, and 2.) it made me realize that maybe I am becoming a hermit. I mean, if someone who’s name I don’t even know (John? Joe? David? Grrr… I’ll remember it one of these days…) has noticed I’m not leaving the apartment, I can only imagine what my friends think.

For a minute, I thought to respond [in a snooty The Real Housewives Of New York City accent]: “Well [insert name here], I’ve been traveling for the past couple weeks, living the glamorous life of a single gal with no full-time job holding her down. You’ve seen that show Sex And The City, right? The one with the woman who looks like a horse and is married to Ferris Beuller? Well, my life is like that… but BETTER! I mean, I’m just soooo busy being fabulous, I hardly have time to breathe. You might not see me that often because I’ve installed a landing strip inside my apartment so I don’t have to go all the way to the airport to board my private jet. And I’m surprised all my late-night parties haven’t kept you and your Amish wife up at night? I keep telling Puff Daddy, well, Puff, as he’s known to his close personal friends, to keep it down but he insists on playing Danity Kane sooooooo loud. [Ring. Ring.] Oh, can you hold on a sec? I’ve got Kimora on the phone. We’re supposed to meet at Richie Brandson’s island later this week… Hello? Kimora?”

Maybe it was because I don’t know Kimora Lee Simmons and I don’t have a landing strip in my apartment. Or because my life couldn’t be further from an episode of Sex And The City and Puffy is not a close, personal friend of mine. More than likely, it was probably because I was wearing sweatpants, no bra, a John Hiatt T-shirt and my hair pulled back in the crusty headband I use when I wash my face, because that’s when I said…

“Yeah, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my apartment these days. [Pause.] I think I might be becoming a hermit.” 

OOOH... SHINY...

Instead of writing today, I decided to…

A. Paint my nails “Lincoln Park At Midnight” by OPI

B. Re-organize my earrings, and

C. Try on a fake diamond ring so I could play this new game I invented called “What It’s Like To Be Engaged”

I’ve included a picture (below) of activities A and C. Enjoy!