Friday, March 30, 2007

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the absurdity that is often me (and my life). Also, I mean tough love when I say love.

Exhibit A: Baby You Can Drive My Car

I think my car is lost somewhere in Tennessee. I think it was parked at a revival and was saved or something. Apparently, it doesn't feel compelled to join my atheist ass.

Exhibit B: All the Things She Said

Despite opposition (Mr. Shain, especially), I think I am going forward with the tat idea, and I'll tell you why. At this point in my life (questionable term), it's acceptable to ink oneself. When I am old and saggier, that stretched out tramp stamp (j/k I mean Looney Toons character on my hip) will be a permanent reminder of the things that drove me in my (semi) youth. No, not Pabst, Chee-tos and ultimate slovenliness, but poetry, idealism, extreme liberalism, literature, shit like that - before I chuck it all for a three-stone ring, Volvo station wagon, three Montessori school attending kids with ADD and a mild prescription drug habit. That said, I am still torn about what I should actually get. I do like the Oklahoma idea, but this is permanent, folks. The dork piece of me wants to somehow incorporate one of my favorite poems (i carry your heart with me - ee cummings, Love Calls Us to the Things of This World - Richard Wilbur, and Deer Park - Wang Wei - but who's counting), but none of them have what I would consider tangible symbology that I would want somewhere on my body. As the old adage goes, if you build it, they will come. What?

C) Jealous Guy

Those of us in the know (by "know" I mean us dorks who spend waaay too much time reading blogs - because it rocks!), know that [redacted] is some good shit. I appreciate both Dan's (we're on a first name basis - in my mind) winning good looks and comical, but poignant insight on an almost daily basis. However, Shain went off on how brilliant this guy is last night and I was shocked to find I felt a tiny twinge of jealousy since Shain should only concern himself with proclaiming the sheer brilliance of this pile. Seriously, I actually thought about this.

P.S. Shain, who told you to read him? Me. That's who.

D) Don't Call Me Baby

The exbf and I were together for quite some time in various capacities for upwards of six years, but never really got around to establishing pet names for each other. Sure, he called me sweet nothings like "numbnuts," "nutsac," "booger," "nugget," and "booger nuts" but never consistently and never with the assured gusto of a committed boyfriend. I usually just called him [redacted] to his face and asshole to everyone else. Not really. This time around, and by this time, I of course mean never, I think I might want someone to call me names. Good ones, though. No, good is the wrong word. Traditional, I suppose. I have never been referred to as "baby" in that kind of a relationship. I think I'd like to give it a try. Something like, "Baby, I wanna buy you all kinds of expensive stuff forever and you're really good in bed and you're the prettiest in all the land!" but it will probably be more like, "Baby, you're snoring. Again. Baby! Roll over! Sweet Jesus, you sound like a jackhammer." Also, if either case were come to pass, I would probably vom a little, because that's how I roll with my heart made of scrap robot parts from the future.

E) Been Caught Stealing

Speaking of the exbf, he recently sent me an email saying simlply, "Zealand got sprayed by a skunk." Ok. I'm not sure how to go about responding or not responding to this. I asked my 13 year old students and they said I should shoot back "Sucks for the dog that you stole from me, asshole, but serves you right" or "Why are you trying to make me care about something I deeply love that I will never have? Thanks for everything! Love in Christ, Blythe" I get it. Even couples that go through nasty breakups can eventually communicate, but I don't want to know about the state of the dog that I lost and will never see again. It's just heartbreaking. But then again, I'm a big baby. The thing is, I want him to email me, I just want it to say something like, "I'm so sorry for being the biggest turd ever imaginable. Here's a million dollars." I suppose I should just say something involving tomato juice. I really fucking miss my dog. It hurts like a bitch.

F) You're So Vain

Because I am an elitist, I automatically like John Legend because he went to Penn. [I have completely and absolutely irrationally high education requirements for potential suitors (all part of Plan Sabotage). I will require it, then dislike you for it. It's fun, really.] Needless to say, I like this video. I want this song. And to go on vacation.



G) The Greatest Love of All

I'm feeling kinda down about things, to be honest. Maybe it's the rain. But, I mustn't forget what I've learned from that other "B."

9 comments:

blythe said...

speaking of rain, the first sirens of the season just went off! oh tornado!

Matt said...

Speaking of tornadoes, thanks to my tenure in your midwestern state, I now have a trump card to play in any situation where people are bragging about their close calls with natural disasters. Like the time when a section of Moore, a few miles north of my house, was leveled. It tends to eclipse people's stories about tropical storms in western Virginia and 4.5-magnitude earthquakes. Oh by the way, I lived in the SF Bay Area too, on unstable bayside soil. Beat that.

Matt said...

Speaking of babies...
http://www.vidmax.com/index.php/videos/view/1004

Oh Maury, you bring the wonders of the world into my living room.

Anonymous said...

(That's /index.php/videos/view/1004)

blythe said...

remember the night of that tornado? it was the aegis plays. i hadn't made it to school yet, but i think i remember c-tina saying everyone had to hide out in the bathrooms. good times, good times.

Jess said...

Take your time on the tat decision. You'll see something or read something or the idea will just pop into your head and you'll know that is what you want to have inked into your skin for all eternity. You've got all the time in the world.

Now, I really must stop talking about tattoos before I'm absolutely powerless to stop myself from getting another.

As for the pet name thing, I have two exes who called me "baby." Actually one was so freakin' lazy he shortened it "bay," because apparently even saying "babe" was just too much work. I'm holding out for a man who is creative with a pet name.

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