Monthly Archives: May 2007

He knows my pain.


Valancy Jane – “Would you like a ThermaCare HeatWrap*?”

My Homie in Sales – “Where can I put it?  Where can’t I put it?”

Valancy Jane – “I don’t judge.”

*Yes.  Yes, I am mentioning them a lot because they are WONDERFUL, and maybe they’ll offer me a spokesperson deal.  Will work for HeatWraps!

Once every Blue Moon, I rip my shirt off in a Sombrero’s drive-thru.


See, I felt a sharp stab in my chest, and when I stuck my hand down to investigate I found ……… *shudders*  a PINCHER BUG.  I think it fell from the flowers in my hair, I have GOT to start checking them more closely first.  (See also, the Snail Incident of  ’03.  *shudder*)  Now normally I don’t get squeamish or squealy about bugs, for example there’s a bouncy-ball sized black widow spider in the door frame of my back door, that I let alone because I figure she’s as good as a watch dog.  But when I was a kid, someone told me that pincher bugs would crawl in your ears and eat your brain and even though I have of course figured out that’s not true, I never got over it.  And the fact that they just WON’T die the first time you squish them lends them a eerie, zombie-esque quality.


So naturally I ripped my shirt off, to make sure he was gone, and alone.

And that’s when the cashier handed me my rolled tacos. 

He tried to hand me my change too, but I was running out of hands, trying to take my food, stay decent, and make my getaway, so I told him to keep it for the tip jar.

He said, fervently, “THANK YOU.”

I’m not sure how to take that, really.

“I think I need to wear protective gear to bed. Wait. That’s not what I meant. Lemme start over.”


I’m the only person I know who could injure myself in my sleep. 

I have no idea what happened, but when I woke up this morning, my neck didn’t …….. work.  It no longer did neck-like things.  Like ………… bend.

A ThermaCare heat wrap, and a vicodin left over from ……. hm …… I’m not sure ……… well anyway, a vicodin I found in my purse have given me back some of my mobility.  But this isn’t fun.

On the upside, when I went to the store for the heat wraps, I ran into a stray balloon in the parking lot.  I took it as a sign of …………… well, at any rate, I took it.

The Redneck Show, now with an afternoon Matinee!


Which, as my cousin Jordan pointed out, looks similar to the word “manitee,” which would be totally cooler, but c’est la vie. 

To celebrate the birth of their new baby, the neighbors have imported several members of their respective families, in large trailers, in the yard.  This influx lends our yard (more of) a circus-like quality. 

But with that many rednecks so close by, it brings out the hippie in me.  Just to sorta counter balance.  I keep getting the urge to do my yoga on the roof, or paint flowers on my face and do an interpretive dance, about bringing the troops home. 

Maybe I just need a good sound effects CD. 

I love you all, please keep up the strange mail.  The acceptance letter for Mau and Dulce to The BellyDance School for Cats was perfectly timed, arriving just as they did.  I think I’m going to mail myself something from The Black Bear Cub Adoptions – Applications Dept.

Confessions of an Attention Whore.


Have you heard about this new site, ?

You can anonymously confess things that you’ve done.  It’s hosted by a church, with the idea that confession is good for the soul.  Figures I would have the urge to misuse it.

“I put coke in Lindsey Lohan’s car.”

“I’m burning six square miles of the Brazilian rain forest as we speak.”

“I laughed at Hitler’s wee-wee in the gym showers when we were kids at school, so that whole Holocaust thing might have been my bad.”

One of my kidlets once said, “You’re like, one of us, except you can drive!”


I love being a grownup. 

Although I often feel like a mistake has been made, that I’ve passed into adulthood and been accepted as such simply because somebody wasn’t paying attention.  Like I snuck into someone else’s graduation ceremony and they handed me a diploma even though I could see a brief moment of realization of non-recognition pass through the Principle’s eyes.  I mean, wait, what?  I never did that.  *shifty eyes*  But if I had, it would be a perfect metaphor for what I mean.

Sometimes when I get into my car, I think to myself, “Damn, what were they thinking, giving me a driver’s license?  Now I can go ANYWHERE.  ANYTIME I WANT.”  Sometimes I stay up all night just because I can.  When I get my paycheck, I think, “Wait, what’s stopping me from spend $1183 on glitter?  ME?  JUST ME?  Oooooooooooo.  This could go either way.”

I feel like Christina Applegate in Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead.  In fact, I may go home and have a fashion show over my pool.  BECAUSE I CAN.  (Once I put in a pool.)  (Which I can do very quickly, if I do it in a montage.)

All in all, I think I’m carrying off the illusion rather well.  Parents leave their children with me.  My boss lets me sit unsupervised in a lobby with a computer and a phone, and doesn’t seem to lose much sleep over it.  I can arrange my furniture ANY WAY I WANT TO, and fold over the corners of pages in my books and waste all the ketchup in a food fight if I damn well please.

I feel at times like I’ve gotten the best of both worlds, being 15 going on 27.  I get all this freedom, and I’m still dumb enough to think I can do anything.