Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
And … it totally didn’t suck
In fact, I would dare say dinner was a lot of fun. Seriously. The kids were just darling and well-behaved (though they got a little antsy toward the end, but there was Littlest Pets to be bought at Target, and that's a huge deal, y'all), and we were like two ladies who lunch -- nothing uncomfortable or nasty about it.

I'm glad I went.

I DID forget to tell y'all, save for a couple people, about the jackasses I encountered at the gas station this afternoon. I'm waiting for the tank to fill when these lunkheads -- Momma, Big Daddy and Junior on Spring Break -- pull up beside me in their 1995 Buick something or other. Momma was driving, and Junior was pumping the gas, and I guess he filled the tank when he wasn't supposed to because Big Daddy starts yelling and calling him a moron at the top of his lungs. Well, I start putting on some lipstick, and I guess I shot them a look of "whatever" because I found myself making eye contact with Momma, who I thought agreed with me until she said, "Makeup ain't going to help you, honey."

(Now, I should interject here that Momma didn't look to be a particularly petite flower and had fried, bleached out hair with a good two inches of dark roots, so it makes what comes next even more absurd.)

Anyway, I must've rolled my eyes again when Big Daddy starts yelling -- again at the top of his lungs -- "Hey have you called Jenny Craig yet!?? The number's ..." as I drove away.

Normally, something like that wouldn't get to me, but it got me to thinking: "Man, do I really look like I've gained that much!?? I mean, I know I have, but is it really that bad to other people!??" So I called Poppy about it, and of course she gave me the usual about low-lifes and how they'll go for the easiest common denominator, but then we started talking about how weight gain is viewed as a sign of weakness, whether it is or not, and if you're not stick thin, you're open to that kind of criticism. I mean, I remember when I was much lighter and a dicklicker called me a "fat ass" right before I got him and his no-boobs on a stick skank kicked out of the Cubs/Sox matchup. That was kind of depressing.
Posted by Broad3:19 AM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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