12.06.2004
As If I Wasn't Crazy Efuckingnough
So because my "actual" life is so daunting and confusing right now, I'm finding myself fascinated by the oddest things. Among them, my daily showdown with the Launchcast that plays at my desk.
I've programmed in my favorite artists, songs and albums, but lately that sneaky little thing has been surprising me with some of the most messed up music that has ever been recorded. I feel like that character in "The Telltale Heart"... as the ever-louder sound of the beating organ - which only he can hear - pounds beneath the floorboards and slowly drives him insane.
Today, for instance, it snuck in Jordan Knight, Frida from Abba (in a solo effort) and Peaches & Herb between The Starlight Mints, The Minus 5 and Belle & Sebastian. Yesterday it was Gary U.S. Bonds and the Pointer Sisters (singing a country song - I shit you not) between Earlimart and The Tragically Hip.
And poor S...I e-mail her every 5 minutes telling her what bizarre selection was perpetrated on me last. She's very understanding, though. So thanks, honeybunny. I need the outlet!
In other news, divorce sucks. Don't do it - don't even bother getting married. At this age (33) there's really no point in getting married anyway, since by now - hopefully - you can afford your own trip to Maui and have a full set of nice dishes in your apartment. If you have a house, even better. Just let me give you this piece of advice: if you do own property before you decide to tie the knot, SELL IT. Sell the motherfucker and buy something together. Something that the two of you can split down the fucking middle when your marriage crashes and burns in the goatee-singeing, mullet-exploding Nascar pile-up that your divorce will surely become. These are the two words that will surely haunt you unless you take them seriously before the nuptials: COMMUNITY PROPERTY.
Fuck the intangibles like emotion and intention. Sure, you felt all happy when you got engaged, and oh, it was so romantic the first time he called you his wife. FUCK THAT. When the shit hits the fan it's going to come down to who bought the last bag of groceries. Who paid the car insurance. Who mowed the fucking lawn.
Oh yeah, it's ugly. And I'm not saying that it's absolutely going to happen to you...I'm just saying that it could.
And it's not just the divorce - it's like everything I touch turns to shit. In a matter of two days I bought rotten chicken, received a $100 overcharge on my cable bill, a $152 overcharge on my phone bill, I found out that I didn't have half the documentation I needed for my computer rebates, I got my period and two huge blemishes that I didn't even see the likes of when I was in high school, I spilled red nailpolish on my favorite sofa blankie, and realized that as my haircut from September has grown out, each day it makes me look more and more like Doug Henning.
Ready to say it with me? Come on...it'll be fun. Here we go: NOT...SO...MUCH.
I know things are really upside down when the one real bright spot in my life is the Puppy. He's been attentive, funny, sweet, supportive. He's brilliant - in that English way where I'd say "fucking great" and be crass and they'd just say "brilliant" and you'd swoon from the sheer force of their understated fabulousness and then awake to find yourself lubed up and drunk in the back seat of a car with Hugh Grant and a cop shining his flashlight in the window, and you'd think, "That was so worth it. He said 'brilliant'."
Anyhoo, the Puppy is just what the doctor ordered. I haven't laughed this much in years, and I feel like a real person when he's around. And he paid me a compliment. Don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I can't recall ever hearing an actual compliment from the EH, except recently when he said I'd be a "hot divorcee." And that creeped me out because it sounded so Happy Days. Watch out, Fonzie! I'm "hot to trot"! Oh my god. Help me. Anyhoo, the Puppy and I were talking about how I met him and one of his friends for lunch this one time and he had left his friend alone at the table. I walked in and the guy was like, "Are you the Puppy's friend?" I just said, "um, yes" and didn't ask how he knew. But this past weekend it came up randomly and I asked, "how did he know it was me?" I was not the only girl in there on her own as it was a busy lunch-rush type situation. And the Puppy told me, "I told him that you were a brunette. And strikingly beautiful."
Oh my gawd, Puppy. Oh my gawd...considering that it's a mystery how long it will be before I have the energy or enthusiasm to have sex again, that comment could keep me going for months! And if I already shared that anecdote, then it should be even more apparent that it moved me. So, as they say on our illiterate news stations after every "Back to you, Sandy," I can only respond with, "Thank you for that."
ps: I love The Onion: http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4049&n=3
I've programmed in my favorite artists, songs and albums, but lately that sneaky little thing has been surprising me with some of the most messed up music that has ever been recorded. I feel like that character in "The Telltale Heart"... as the ever-louder sound of the beating organ - which only he can hear - pounds beneath the floorboards and slowly drives him insane.
Today, for instance, it snuck in Jordan Knight, Frida from Abba (in a solo effort) and Peaches & Herb between The Starlight Mints, The Minus 5 and Belle & Sebastian. Yesterday it was Gary U.S. Bonds and the Pointer Sisters (singing a country song - I shit you not) between Earlimart and The Tragically Hip.
And poor S...I e-mail her every 5 minutes telling her what bizarre selection was perpetrated on me last. She's very understanding, though. So thanks, honeybunny. I need the outlet!
In other news, divorce sucks. Don't do it - don't even bother getting married. At this age (33) there's really no point in getting married anyway, since by now - hopefully - you can afford your own trip to Maui and have a full set of nice dishes in your apartment. If you have a house, even better. Just let me give you this piece of advice: if you do own property before you decide to tie the knot, SELL IT. Sell the motherfucker and buy something together. Something that the two of you can split down the fucking middle when your marriage crashes and burns in the goatee-singeing, mullet-exploding Nascar pile-up that your divorce will surely become. These are the two words that will surely haunt you unless you take them seriously before the nuptials: COMMUNITY PROPERTY.
Fuck the intangibles like emotion and intention. Sure, you felt all happy when you got engaged, and oh, it was so romantic the first time he called you his wife. FUCK THAT. When the shit hits the fan it's going to come down to who bought the last bag of groceries. Who paid the car insurance. Who mowed the fucking lawn.
Oh yeah, it's ugly. And I'm not saying that it's absolutely going to happen to you...I'm just saying that it could.
And it's not just the divorce - it's like everything I touch turns to shit. In a matter of two days I bought rotten chicken, received a $100 overcharge on my cable bill, a $152 overcharge on my phone bill, I found out that I didn't have half the documentation I needed for my computer rebates, I got my period and two huge blemishes that I didn't even see the likes of when I was in high school, I spilled red nailpolish on my favorite sofa blankie, and realized that as my haircut from September has grown out, each day it makes me look more and more like Doug Henning.
Ready to say it with me? Come on...it'll be fun. Here we go: NOT...SO...MUCH.
I know things are really upside down when the one real bright spot in my life is the Puppy. He's been attentive, funny, sweet, supportive. He's brilliant - in that English way where I'd say "fucking great" and be crass and they'd just say "brilliant" and you'd swoon from the sheer force of their understated fabulousness and then awake to find yourself lubed up and drunk in the back seat of a car with Hugh Grant and a cop shining his flashlight in the window, and you'd think, "That was so worth it. He said 'brilliant'."
Anyhoo, the Puppy is just what the doctor ordered. I haven't laughed this much in years, and I feel like a real person when he's around. And he paid me a compliment. Don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I can't recall ever hearing an actual compliment from the EH, except recently when he said I'd be a "hot divorcee." And that creeped me out because it sounded so Happy Days. Watch out, Fonzie! I'm "hot to trot"! Oh my god. Help me. Anyhoo, the Puppy and I were talking about how I met him and one of his friends for lunch this one time and he had left his friend alone at the table. I walked in and the guy was like, "Are you the Puppy's friend?" I just said, "um, yes" and didn't ask how he knew. But this past weekend it came up randomly and I asked, "how did he know it was me?" I was not the only girl in there on her own as it was a busy lunch-rush type situation. And the Puppy told me, "I told him that you were a brunette. And strikingly beautiful."
Oh my gawd, Puppy. Oh my gawd...considering that it's a mystery how long it will be before I have the energy or enthusiasm to have sex again, that comment could keep me going for months! And if I already shared that anecdote, then it should be even more apparent that it moved me. So, as they say on our illiterate news stations after every "Back to you, Sandy," I can only respond with, "Thank you for that."
ps: I love The Onion: http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4049&n=3
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Yeah, the Puppy is coming through in ways he probably didn't even realize were possible...but I still don't trust him to keep up this pace! He'll have me angry at him soon enough, haha.
And get this: I went home sick from work today. I don't know if it's the emotional trauma, the glass of wine and vicoden I swallowed last night during the latest phone call with the EH, or the aftereffects of staying up til 5 a.m. both Friday and Saturday night watching television with the Puppy, but OMG I hurt today. O...M...G...!!!
And get this: I went home sick from work today. I don't know if it's the emotional trauma, the glass of wine and vicoden I swallowed last night during the latest phone call with the EH, or the aftereffects of staying up til 5 a.m. both Friday and Saturday night watching television with the Puppy, but OMG I hurt today. O...M...G...!!!
just keep in mind what the puppy is and all he is not. use him for this transition in your life but remember he is a man, and did make out with your friend...in your very own apartment. there are a lot of guys out there who are looking for a great gal just like you, so please don't settle for the first one who calls you beautifully brilliant or whatever. you'll get through this, believe me, if i did it, you can do it. just remember this is just a small piece of the big puzzle that is your life.
Oh, gurl...I'm not emotionally attached to thr Puppy, but thank you for your concern. Somlynn is on the same page as you - and me: he doesn't deserve me, and I don't want him! ha ha.
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