I was afraid of my closet. The floor of my closet of what I now know was: shoes, shoes, shoes, discarded Mylar balloons, weird discarded 7 pennies, random socks, which Smitty has blamed me for months, whatever. My closet was a benign symbol, much like the malignant " Bayou Shark," I recently witnessed with Kristy Swanson on SyFy Channel.
I cleaned the damn thing out, gimme a break. I found books I forgot I owned , shoes I dreamed I had, and clothes that I am now too damn voluptuous to wear. I hate my stupid closet. It's like a time capsule, designed to end in tears. No, I no longer wear a size 8 in those pants that were mocking my semi-deliverance denial into cleaning out my closet altogether. I hate my closet, but I love it too, like a Jewish, guilt-ridden goy at this point......Oh, Happy Roshashanah.
I threw you out, inane Old Navy, "tank shirts," if you think you can produce a tank shirt that covers actual human breasts, give me a call...mine are spectacular...maybe you need an ad...When did Old Navy become Pedophile United? There are no clothes now that fit beyond puberty, barring a special order? My blog grows angry. FYI: I cut and dyed red my own hair. I like my weird, brassy, partially uneven red hair. What??
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Things I can discuss in therapy
My mother signed up for match.com. There, I said it out loud (sort of). Let me preface this by saying, in theory, I adore the idea of my mom finding a nice, non-creepy man to date or plan canasta with or whatever the dating seniors do these days. In reality, since I found this out, I can't get the image of spending holidays with someone named Gil or Stan who has ear hair and wants me to call him 'Dad' if I'm comfortable. (I'm not and never will be)
I have friends on match.com..my God, I went out with exactly two people I met on there, both creepy and clingy and professing eternal love on the first date. I do not have a good association with these digital matchmakers. Plus, my mom's trying to date! Hello, freaking out! I still have dreams about my dad almost every night, and I really don't think he would like this. Maybe I'll ask him tonight while we're flying with the Beatles.
I know I'm being childish. I guess it's akin to your parents divorcing. Eventually they would date, but my dad's only been dead for a little over a year. Plus, if I had been married 40-something years, I dunno that I'd be jumping back into it for a while. Also, don't people freak out when their divorced parents date/marry other people? I'd say right now, yes, I acknowledge some childishness on my part, but on the flip side, this is the first notion I've heard of my mom out on the town with a "divorced male, 60 years old," so I'm allowing myself some illogical immaturity.
Enough of that, or I'll have nightmares. Speaking of sleeping, I literally slept 15 hours last night. I woke up so disoriented, I thought I was still asleep or that I had died and my heaven was my bed, which is how I like to imagine heaven...my bed on a cloud where everyone I ever wanted to see again or meet hangs out and occasionally, we have karaoke.
I also experienced a bout of unwarranted hives all morning. It's not cool to get to work and suddenly have the urge to scratch every part of your body. I would request to be moved away from someone who did that, so I had to maintain, take a Benadryl, and try not to nod off while helping customers. It was a long, fuzzy puff of a day, and somewhere in the muddle, there was Chef Boyardee ravioli, which I am partially ashamed to admit I still eat when I can't find anything else to take for lunch.
"Mommies are just big little girls." ~Author Unknown
I have friends on match.com..my God, I went out with exactly two people I met on there, both creepy and clingy and professing eternal love on the first date. I do not have a good association with these digital matchmakers. Plus, my mom's trying to date! Hello, freaking out! I still have dreams about my dad almost every night, and I really don't think he would like this. Maybe I'll ask him tonight while we're flying with the Beatles.
I know I'm being childish. I guess it's akin to your parents divorcing. Eventually they would date, but my dad's only been dead for a little over a year. Plus, if I had been married 40-something years, I dunno that I'd be jumping back into it for a while. Also, don't people freak out when their divorced parents date/marry other people? I'd say right now, yes, I acknowledge some childishness on my part, but on the flip side, this is the first notion I've heard of my mom out on the town with a "divorced male, 60 years old," so I'm allowing myself some illogical immaturity.
Enough of that, or I'll have nightmares. Speaking of sleeping, I literally slept 15 hours last night. I woke up so disoriented, I thought I was still asleep or that I had died and my heaven was my bed, which is how I like to imagine heaven...my bed on a cloud where everyone I ever wanted to see again or meet hangs out and occasionally, we have karaoke.
I also experienced a bout of unwarranted hives all morning. It's not cool to get to work and suddenly have the urge to scratch every part of your body. I would request to be moved away from someone who did that, so I had to maintain, take a Benadryl, and try not to nod off while helping customers. It was a long, fuzzy puff of a day, and somewhere in the muddle, there was Chef Boyardee ravioli, which I am partially ashamed to admit I still eat when I can't find anything else to take for lunch.
"Mommies are just big little girls." ~Author Unknown
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