Update: I’m Still Alive! (Not that anyone cared to check).
A while back, after a rather impressive evening of putting together my steamer (don’t have one? get one! it will change your life, swear), I wrote a lovely list of reasons I am getting old.
So although I haven’t been blogging for a whole month (but have random post-its strewn about my life with things that I promised myself I would mention when I do find myself staring down a computer screen with some free time), the one thought that has been lodged front and center in my strange little head is that I am ooooollld. But I’m not. So I guess I’m tired? Or maybe I’ve been kind of sick all month? I don’t know. But I feel like I’m 40 and I really just want to nap, but I never have time because the check engine light is on in my car, and I keep losing things (and consequently chasing them down), and my friends won’t stop getting knocked up or having people offer them diamonds (and consequently making me attend tea-partyesque events in their honor), and I keep saying “of course!” when people ask me if I’d like to help them volunteer with this, or participate in that. I am productive. Productive and slightly strung out because my calendar is booked weeks in advance.
I forget where I was going with this. I bet it was somewhere good though.
I haven’t blogged in over a month. Nothing really life-changing has happened, which has been good. It’s a nice place for my heart to rest while everything falls into place (or falls closer to where it should be… I’m making no sense, I know). This little blurb is a half-assed award to myself for not doing any damage to my life or person in over 30 days (new personal best?).
I’m hungover. Yet another way I’m not quite as young as I look. Two beers and two shots last night and I was blacked out yelling at some poor guy about physics (I don’t know)…. Even though 4 drinks is far below my normal average, I am still feeling gross over 24 hours, three bad movies, a breakfast burrito and a glass of champagne later. Like I said, old.
I’m dating. I was dating last month too, so that’s not news. Some lackluster, some really entertaining, some so dull and socially awkward I thought about telling him I was lesbian just to liven up the discussion. But I didn’t. Because I was hungry, and if I said I was into girls he might make me pay for my overpriced pasta or just abandon me in the restaurant. I seriously considered it though.
Do you want to give me money? I won’t do anything to deserve it, and I might forget to write you a thank you note later, but I need a couple hundred dollars for this political thing I’m doing. And I maybe forgot about the fundraising requirement, so I’ve got 2 weeks to get $1,000 from my unassuming friends and family. Please help me. Stress makes me look sad, and I look much better when I’m happy. Do it for my complexion.
Remember the President? He fumbled through an apology a few weeks ago, although I’m still not sure for what. It was nice of him to be sorry, though I guess? Maybe he felt guilty? Did I get drunk and do something retarded? Wouldn’t be the first time, but hey, I really didn’t know what to say as he blurted out his “I’m sorry….” schpiel and didn’t want to discount it, so I just nodded and thanked him for being so sincere. Eh.
I was recently asked by a darling but retarded man if I wanted to go to the party in his bed. Note to men: that’s not a good pick up line. Another fellow called me his “little meatball” which is even worse than an invitation to a mattress-party. Something about me being italian, he said. I took it more like, you are round like a meatball. Fatty.
Everything is just chugging along. I’m trying to ditch that feeling I always get when things are going okay… know the one I’m talking about? That nagging thing in your head that tells you to brace yourself, things are going okay… things are too okay. You are not lucky like this… something bad is coming. Only— maybe it’s not luck. Maybe I just took control and that simple step put things right again, and I’m not frantically trying to chase fate around. Or something like that.
I decimated whatever purpose I had in writing this. But I miss blogging. It’s a really great outlet, and although I was pretty sucky at it this year I’m hoping I can use my new-ish perspective to write something worthwhile.
But again, if you want to give me money, feel free. I’m serious.