Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Fried Green Randomness

I should be writing about one of those weird stories, one of those surreal moments that even when one looks back on them they are STILL utterly insane, slightly frightening (in the sense that you managed to leave through them) and completely weird. But- no stories today, kids. Just brief sum-ups and random things. Things that should scare away potential suitors, friends and pets.

I once drove home from a New Year's party so intoxicated I could not see farther than 3 feet from my bumper. I had abruptly decided to leave after seeing my boy-who-was-a-friend-with-an-exceptional-amount-of-benefits making out with two girls on the overstuffed, overpriced couch of the Maumelle Country Club house in which I was partying down. Mid-drink from the champagne bottle, I spied him-- tongue wrastling some 19-year-old hussy and groping under the skirt of some 21-year-old chinless slut. I was overcome with blinding jealousy, realized my jealousy was unfounded (which only angered me more) and then grabbed my then-roommate Kasi, fell into my SUV and drove the 23 miles home. Twenty of the said miles were spent no less than three feet from the tailgate of a 1998 Ford Ranger, who never once attempted to shake me from it's ass. I woke up the next morning, still drunk, grabbed Kasi out of bed and drove down Broadway to Back Yard Burger for breakfast. Drove home, still drunk, mind you- and fell asleep for 24 hours. To this day, Kasi and I have no idea how we managed to not become a New Years statistic.

I once dropped trou on a sidewalk in Spain because I had to pee. It was 3am. The natives got quite a show. I fell onto the sidewalk, thankfully avoiding my puddle. Obviously, I'd had too much to drink.

I do not eat the cup-o-ramen with the water in it, as the package indicates. I don't like it as a soup. I just like the noodles.

I cut my toenails to the quick <--- stems from years of pointe shoes. If you've ever thought about shoving your toes into an immobile wooden box and then standing on toes incased in said wooden box, then you understand how standing on toenails inside wooden box could be a tad uncomfortable. I can't give up this habit.

I rarely blow-dry my hair; hence the straggly, frizzy mess that normally inhabits the space around my head.

It takes a good fifteen minutes of constant tossing and turning to get comfortable for sleep and a good fifteen minutes of tossing and turning to fully wake up.

I have a tiny spot on the side of my nose from where the first nose ring left a small scar. Now I have a large red pimply looking spot on the side of my nose from where I ripped it out last Sunday by total and complete accident. I've been rubbing in Mederma to keep a heinous scar from forming. But I am still mourning the loss of my beautiful gold stud.

I'm not at all affectionate in public because I believe that some things should be kept private. Hand holding- check. Small cheek kisses- check. Exchanging spit- NO CHECK, DO NOT PROCEED, GO BACK TWO SPACES. I do however, harbor this secret side that desperately loves to (occasionally, not every single minute) touch and kiss and hug and hold. I would never admit to this side in a verbal exchange. I would DENY DENY DENY that my everyday demeanor is at all penetrable.

I never dreamed of what my wedding would look like, or what my bridesmaids would wear, or who would BE my bridesmaids or even the LOCATION of said wedding. I still don't. But I occasionally roll over in the morning and wish someone was there to smile at.

I don't particularly care for rocking chairs. (My legs don't touch the ground) I do, however, love gliders. I completed my transition into adulthood when I got a loveseat glider for my back porch. The back porch which is now decorated with begonias, salvia and mums. THIS is how I knew I was an adult. Having a back porch with flowers and a glider. By the way, this happened on Saturday.

I desperately want my cats to learn to walk on a leash. The Deceptively Cute One is accepting of the harness and not actively rejecting of the leash... But the idea of the harness + leash + walking is VERY BAD. The Fat One just gives me the finger when I suggest this.

I love that my mom is an artist and I love even more that she's a GREAT ONE and I wish she had more confidence in her work. As a whole, she completely amazes me. I love her more than I could ever explain.

I go to the dentist across town because he may possibly be the hottest dentist I've ever seen. And if someone is going to be digging around in my mouth, well, they might as well be hot.

I desperately lust after boys who will never look in my direction. Why? Well, we all have our theories. Some say it's because I avoid all commitment. Talk about marriage and you'll see a giant Birdie-sized hole in the door. I, however, think it's because that I refuse to settle and will eventually lust after a boy that lusts after me right back.

I don't like boys who talk excessively about their feelings. I don't talk excessively about MY feelings, so why do I want to hear about yours?? That's right, I DON'T. I don't necessarily want some grunting caveman but there SHOULD be enough cromagnon man left over to throw me against a wall and ravish me senseless. And then later tell me he loves me desperately and with great fervor, natch. :)

I love my friends.

It's impossible for me to be on time. I will forget about the conditioner I left in my hair and have to jump in the shower at the last minute to rinse, I will find it necessary to return library books RIGHT THEN, feed the cats THAT SECOND, mail that letter NOW, etc. Anything that needs doing will only be remembered at the last second and I will not be able to put off doing it, no matter how late it makes me. Thankfully, I have not been fired for this.

I don't exercise near as much as I should but I am basically healthy. I take my vitamins, watch my sugar, eat my whole foods, steam my veggies and bake my chicken.

I love giant earrings. Big dangly ones.

I have a mole between my toes.

I eat cold asparagus.

If I could be absolutely anything in the whole world, I would be a ballet dancer. Not just a ballet dancer, but a GREAT ballet dancer. I had a pretty decent amount of talent, a lot of grace and a lot of drive but I didn't have the genetics to go along with it. Even at my skinniest my boobs were disproportionately big and my ankles and knees were never strong enough to sustain years of destructive dancing. But how my body aches for it. Literally and mentally.

Tomatoes are disgusting.

I like lemon in my diet coke. But not the prepackaged Diet Coke with Lemon. THAT tastes like Triaminic.

I can remember what it was like to tap dance so fast it made my heart flutter with elation. That noise is the Ozzy to my Harriet. If there can be such a thing.

I like fall and spring the best.

I was afraid to learn to dive until I was forced to when I was 20 years old. I was a camp counselor and I taught swimming, among other things. In the days before the first session started, one of the girls took pity on me and spent 2 hours at the pool one evening convincing me to try it. I did, and got it right on the first try.

I'm hungry right now and resisting the urge to go buy the only available food in the building-- Vending Machine Crap.

I was Darth Vader for Halloween when I was five.

4 comments:

Carl from L.A. said...

Fascinating.

And I'm glad you didn't become a New Years statistic.

Diet Coke with Real Lemon - been drinking that for 25 years. I think they should sell that. If McDonalds can come up with a way to embed maple syrup in the McGriddle, someone in Coca Cola ought to be able to come up with a way to get real lemon in Diet Coke.

Oswald Croll said...

I like to eat Cup-a-Romen while dressed as Darth Vader on New Years Eve, while watching my friend-with-benefits get porked by another. OK, that's not true, I eat the Romen in my Aquaman PJs.

I am also grossed out by string cheese and love mayo and tomato sandwiches

meghansdiscontent said...

I hope you know that I love you as much as I possibly can while still being straight.

Oh, and that most of the things you said I feel your pain on.

Especially the wedding bullshit. NEVER pictured myself in a dress, never imagined bridesmaids (though, I guess you would have to be one . . if not the maid of honor) or a husband.

In fact, the thought of having a husband is too much.

Need margarita now.

You've driven me to drink.

Bitch.

See you tonight!!!

Murrye said...

who is this dentist?? i haven't gone to one since i moved here, so he might as well be hot!