I absolutely L-O-V-E the feeling I get when I've just done 3 loads of laundry because I feel like 1) I've accomplished a lot (because I think I have, I've just done 3 loads of laundry) 2) I feel oh-so-clean (Because I think I am, I've just done 3 loads of laundry) and 3) I feel like I have all new clothes (because I do, I've just done 3 loads of laundry, which means I haven't worn some of my shirts in almost 2 months).
Sometimes, it's the little things that count....
So here is my list of the top ten frivolous things that make me feel surprisingly bad, only, I could only think of three things, so here is my list of the top three frivolous things that make me feel surprisingly bad.
Sometimes, it's the little things that make you the most neurotic...
# 10) When Brandon Wheeler, the hunk I've had a crush on for the entire year says he wants to be my boyfriend, and asks me to the eighth grade formal, I am so completely surprised, I get this floating sensation in my stomach that is in no way attached to nausea but pure euphoria, I feel like I am the most dazzling creature that's ever lived...and then I wake up....excited and happy because Brandon Wheeler wants to be my boyfriend. But soon it all sinks in, I realize it was all a dream...and then I really really wake up.
#9) Checking my e-mail to find that no one has poked me, sent me a message, written on my wall, body slammed me, turned me into a vampire, sent me a super hottie request, given me a roll of toilet paper as a gift, or sent me a "which Harry Potter Professor Jane Austen Sex and the City Harry and the Hendersons Facts of Life Wonder Years Saved By the Bell Different Strokes Character are you" quiz in the last 13 hours.
# 8) Forgetting my cell phone at home, going without it for the entire day and thinking "oh my goodness I'm going to miss so many important phone calls" coming home and seeing that I've received no voicemails, texts, or very many important phone calls.
# 7) When it's a Saturday night and I want to do something fun, I call 3 different friends and none of them answer, which makes me think, "Wow, they must all be hanging out together without me creating memories that can never be duplicated, that they will talk about for years to come and have inside jokes about. Yes, this conclusion is rational. No one loves me."
Oops, I actually had four frivolous things that make me feel surprisingly bad.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Preface
When I was three years old I wanted to be grown up, so I went into the shower and tried to shave my stomach...
Let me walk you through that one. At three years of age, I could not bathe myself, I don't think I knew how. But what I did know was that all of the grown ups in my house could. So I went into the shower, took some Johnson and Johnson's baby shampoo, rubbed it on my stomach, took the pink Bic razor laying on the soap shelf and ran it down my abdomen. It hurt, I yelled in pain, started crying, and my brother ran in and asked me, "What are you doing?! What are you thinking?!" And honestly, I don't know.
The first and second part of the first sentence of this blog are like two pieces of bread, making up a sandwich. But there's no meat, no lettuce, tomato, no fixings. So I tried to put the meat in with the next few sentences that make up the rest of that paragraph. That first sentence is a sentence I have uttered many times. Usually it is used as an anecdote, and its succinctness without any of the real details-- for instance, "why did I think being grown up meant taking a shower by myself?" "Why didn't I put the shampoo in my hair?" "And why did I think shaving my stomach was a reasonable and rational thing to do?"-- is actually what makes it funny. It's my device. Go from point A to point D without giving the audience point B and C. Funnily enough, that's a critique Mr. Beerman (my high school english teacher) gave me. He told my mother "Jane always wants to get to Z without going through all of the points in between. seriously though, shaving my stomach? Maybe that's why Michelle didn't want to write a blog with me...(I've attached the gchat conversation that gave birth to this idea by the way)
Anyway, I guess this is my attempt to write about the meat, or to write about the B, C, D, E and so on and so forth. I'm not a very good writer, but apparently it takes 10,000 hours of practicing something to become an expert at it. So to be proficient at something maybe takes 4,000 hours of practice? It'll be a couple of blogs before I hit my stride. According to my calculations I've got about 3,999.25 more hours before I might be proficient at this. Hang in there those kind and compassionate souls who decide to read.
me: what if you wrote it with me??
Let me walk you through that one. At three years of age, I could not bathe myself, I don't think I knew how. But what I did know was that all of the grown ups in my house could. So I went into the shower, took some Johnson and Johnson's baby shampoo, rubbed it on my stomach, took the pink Bic razor laying on the soap shelf and ran it down my abdomen. It hurt, I yelled in pain, started crying, and my brother ran in and asked me, "What are you doing?! What are you thinking?!" And honestly, I don't know.
The first and second part of the first sentence of this blog are like two pieces of bread, making up a sandwich. But there's no meat, no lettuce, tomato, no fixings. So I tried to put the meat in with the next few sentences that make up the rest of that paragraph. That first sentence is a sentence I have uttered many times. Usually it is used as an anecdote, and its succinctness without any of the real details-- for instance, "why did I think being grown up meant taking a shower by myself?" "Why didn't I put the shampoo in my hair?" "And why did I think shaving my stomach was a reasonable and rational thing to do?"-- is actually what makes it funny. It's my device. Go from point A to point D without giving the audience point B and C. Funnily enough, that's a critique Mr. Beerman (my high school english teacher) gave me. He told my mother "Jane always wants to get to Z without going through all of the points in between. seriously though, shaving my stomach? Maybe that's why Michelle didn't want to write a blog with me...(I've attached the gchat conversation that gave birth to this idea by the way)
Anyway, I guess this is my attempt to write about the meat, or to write about the B, C, D, E and so on and so forth. I'm not a very good writer, but apparently it takes 10,000 hours of practicing something to become an expert at it. So to be proficient at something maybe takes 4,000 hours of practice? It'll be a couple of blogs before I hit my stride. According to my calculations I've got about 3,999.25 more hours before I might be proficient at this. Hang in there those kind and compassionate souls who decide to read.
me: what if you wrote it with me??
Michelle: there's an audience for everything
me: WAIT
WAIT
okay
so we're both libras
our sign is the scale
or whatever
11:54 PM you could be the logical rational one, and i could be the ridiculous absurd one
it would be like dharma and greg
and we could call it that!!!
Michelle: um
no...
me: COME
ON
11:55 PM Michelle: dharma and greg????
me: give me 7 good reasons why??
Michelle: i'm a fucking uptight white man?
me: okay
wait
Michelle: 1) uptight
me: let's modify
Michelle: 2) white
3) man
me: wai
t
DON"T GIVE ME THER ESOND
Michelle: 4) fictional
me: WAIT STOP
Michelle: 5) bad show
me: STOP IT
STOP
COME ON
HOLD ON
Michelle: 6) white
me: STOP TYPING
Michelle: 7) MAN
me: STOP IT
11:56 PM okay, i'm strking those seven reasons from the record
it's like they never happened.
we could call it dharma and greg (filipino)
11:57 PM okay
wait
we won't call it dharma and greg
Michelle: i think that might be worse
me: you're right
Michelle: why dharma and greg?
there are so many other analogous tv personas you could have picked
me: b/c remember, dharma was like weird, and greg was the lawyer
okay
then
nm
11:58 PM scratch dharma and greg
sanford and son?
I love lucy?
Michelle: 1) black
2) man
me: STOP
WAIT
Michelle: 3) racial overtones
me: STOP
Michelle: 4) 70s
me: STOP
hOLD ON
laverne and shirley?
okay
so clearly the names I'm picking aren't right
11:59 PM Michelle: may i point out that i haven't agreed to this
me: but the IDEA, is okay right?
Michelle: is this like point/counterpoint?
why don't you just write a blog that allows comments
and i'll occasionally slip in a nugget of wisdom
12:00 AM me: ugh.
FINE
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