Random Blogness

Okay. Yes. I know I’m posting a blovel on Wednesdays….and shouldn’t that be enough? Shouldn’t writing about an asylum in the 1930’s assuage my need to blog to the universe because I’m already churning out material? You’d think that would be true, but it’s not. (Say in Captain Kirk’s voice) I. Must. Blog!

*Currently looking around my living room because now that I’m blogging I realize I don’t actually have anything to blog about*

Random things then.

1.         Things with Biff Turlington are going quite well. So well, I’ve almost stopped wanting to break up with him every day. This has nothing to do with him, mind you, but with my own mind and that crazy control freak who lives inside my brain pulling random levers. There’s one lever she likes to pull called PANIC. Any time something is going well, she wraps her perfectly manicured hand (if I’m inventing someone to control my emotions, she’s going to be more put-together than I am) around the lever and braces for pulling. It’s like my whole body tenses every time things are going well, preparing for when they’re going to take a sharp turn into chaos. So far, I’m still braced for it.

2. Hanging out with my family for my nephew’s graduation party, my sister looked at me. “I like your cleavage,” she said. I nodded. “You should show it more often.”

“I know, I’m trying, but I have certain body issues.”

She looked at me and blinked. “That’s stupid. You’re beautiful…but I have to tell you…” she reached for my arm and knocked her finger on my sports watch. “THAT fucking thing is hideous. Take it off.”

“I can’t take it off.”


I didn’t know how to answer her. Because by NOT wearing the watch, I couldn’t randomly time things like how long I walk, how long in-between thinking about sandwiches and panic, or set several alarms to remind me of random things throughout the day. “I’ll have a white line from the sun,” I said, knowing surely this would end it.

She looked at me and blinked again. Damn her infernal blinking!! “Take the fucking thing off. You are not allowed to wear that hideous watch unless you are running or at band camp.”

I took the watch off.

3.         Random things I’ve said or almost said and then realized taken out of context, they sound ridiculous.

“I want to eat your pickle. I must eat your pickle! Can I have it? Your pickle? Just a little bit? Pleeeeaaase?”

“I like having a little man inside me every now and again.”

“That’s dawkward.” (I was trying to say either dorky or awkward, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate.)

4.         Tomorrow’s my birthday. I turn 29.

Only part of that is true.

Okay…I turn 37. 37!! I remember when I worked at the Beverley Hills Café in Miami, there were these brothers Cristian (pronounced “cris-tee-in”) and Felipe. They were well-muscled and seductive and had Spanish accents to die for. One was 35 and the other was 37. I thought they were absolutely ancient. (I was 24 at the time.) But one night Cristian kissed me. It was a kiss that changed my life. And ancient or not, it was an incredible kiss, in a car, under palm trees, in the heat so thick you could run your fingers through it. So. I guess if he was ancient at 37 and could kiss like that, and now I’m ancient…uh…Forgot where I was going with that. Now I just want to kiss. Where’s Biff?

5.         Biff tells me not to freak out and relax. I think this is good advice. I’m trying.