One of our local DJs reminded me this morning that Smokey and the Bandit was coming on AMC tonight.
Ahh....Smokey and the Bandit. One of the great movies of all time. Burt Reynolds at his smirky best, Sally Field; so young.
Anyway...
I have a very poignant memory because of Smokey and the Bandit which will also show my age.
My parents decided to go see it at the local drive-in theater and took me along. I was about 4.
At some point during the movie we needed refreshments so my mother swooped me up and took me to the concession stand with her.
If my memory serves me correctly, there were two screens, one on each side of the concession stand.
For some reason, the other screen was empty.
Mom purchased a tray full of soft drinks, popcorn, hotdogs, nachos, or whatever my dad requested. Her hands were full so she was unable to hold my hand as we walked back to the car.
I guess I must have been fascinated by the people inside the consession area because I was looking around and not watching where my mother was going. I went out one door and she went out the other.
I suddenly found myself in the empty side of the theater.
It was dark, foreboding and I wandered around for a few minutes, frightened, before I noticed the only ones around were a gang of teenagers. My sisters were all teenagers at this time so I felt sure they would help me.
I walked up to them and in a trembling voice I said, "Do you know where my mama is?"
A bunch of laughing ensued and one of them said "I don't know yo mama!"
At that moment, a police officer grabbed me by the hand. As I looked up at him, I knew his face would forever be burned in my memory. I remember exactly what he looked like: he was tall, thin, black and bald like Kojak.
I don't remember what he said to me but he led me back into the consession area and as we walked through the doors on the empty side, the doors on the open side burst open and in ran my mom and dad, hand in hand. Even at 4, I recognized the terror on their faces.
I can't actually say I remember the movie or what happened to the snacks after all of that but each time Smokey and the Bandit came on TV for the next 20-some odd years, my family would say, "Remember when you got lost at the drive-in?"
As I explained in a previous post, my exboyfriend has commissioned his friends to read my blog to get to know me.
That just won't do. If you want to know me, reading my blog isn't going to help you very much.
So, for Minnesota's viewing pleasure, I'm compiling a list of things you need to know....All About De:
I've got a pretty good sense of humor. I tend to use humor to 1) defuse volatile situations 2) cover up my own insecurities 3) cover up my passive aggressive nature 4) make my friends and family laugh 5) make myself laugh
Underneath it all, I'm a happy person (on and off medication).
I've got a maternal spirit and I love caring for pets and people I love.
I am a HORRIBLE housekeeper. I couldn't keep a room clean if my life depended on it.
I have a hard time letting people in and even if you're in, you don't always get the whole story.
I love beautiful, expensive things. I can be just as happy without them.
I love nice clothes and pretty shoes and cute purses but if I had to spend the rest of my life shopping for clothing at Walmart, I could find other things to be happy about. There is always something to be happy about.
I don't have patience for people who refuse to think before they speak. If I can do it, anyone can. It's not that hard.
I am happiest when my bra and panties match and preferably, when they match what I'm wearing too.
I can be petty and shallow but I can also be magnanimous and deep. I am a contradiction.
For example: I don't like getting my hands dirty but if I have to, I'll dig in the dirt or umm...do other things that make hands dirty.
I like to stay clean and girly but I LOVE batting cages and playing catch, I'll get in a boat and fish in the summer heat and sweat my ass off.
I like victorian decor and pastel colors but at the same time, I love art deco, modern art and primary colors.
I love heavy metal and hard rock but also opera and classical music.
I always have this feeling that I'm being watched but I've finally attributed it to being from the television generation. Maybe because of all the TV I have watched in my youth, I feel like *I* am on TV too! Now with the explosion of reality TV, I'm REALLY paranoid!
I will be the most loyal friend you have ever had. When you're my friend and I've let you in, you could murder someone and I will say "That fucker deserved it!".
I will also not call you for weeks until you call me and I will be SO happy to hear from you.
I feel the need to constantly learn and grow in every way possible.
I am extremely insecure and need a LOT of reassurance.
I am lazy. SOOOOOOOOO lazy. You don't know lazy til you know me.
I can't open up to someone who won't open up to me.
I have passive aggressive tendencies.
I hate my big feet. HATE HATE HATE
When I love someone, I love with every fiber of my being, with every inch of my soul and I can sometimes lose myself in that person if they aren't careful.
My favorite color is pink. All shades.
When I'm depressed, I watch a horrible movie called Showgirls (yes, I own it on DVD). I've watched it a lot lately.
I rarely forget a kindness and have a hard time forgetting a slight.
I can count on one hand how many times I've been "furious" and only once was it directed at Marshall. And he knows why.
I have daydreams of going back in time to visit different time periods like the mid to late 1800s, the 1930s and 40s Hollywood, etc.
I had a very tumultuous childhood but others have had worse and I don't use it as an excuse for anything.
I'm the youngest (by a pretty large margin) of 5 girls yet I feel like an only child.
I've never experienced pain like I did when my beautiful nephew died. Now, nine months later, I still can't believe he's gone.
After his death, all this trivial shit of life just didn't seem important.
The problem is that it's all starting to trickle back, the unimportant shit.
And suddenly now, I realize, that it's NOT important. All the games that the exboyfriend has been wanting to play, all the time I've spent being upset.... it's all stupid and it's all a waste.
Life is precarious. Life could end at ANY given moment for any of us and though some of us have faith and some of us have strong beliefs, we don't know for sure what lies ahead over on the other side.
So why waste our time with petty bullshit? Quit obssessing over someone else's life and just freaking LIVE.
In our crazy world, it's hard to find a person to admire who's not dead. Sure, George Washington was a cool dude but he's not really here to get to know.
There are a few people our parents' age that are admirable but how often do you get to sit down and KNOW these people?
I know a person worthy of admiration. She's become a very close friend.
Her name is Jennifer and she's been such a good friend to me.
When my nephew died, she called me constantly to make sure I was ok and cried with me and when I returned to work which happened to be on Valentine's Day, she had chocolates and a beautiful card waiting for me.
Nearly every single day she does something nice for me. Like donuts sitting on my desk or an especially thoughtful birthday gift.
She's smart, mature and totally has her shit together. She's also 10 yrs younger than me. When I asked one time why she thought we got along so well with our age difference, she said "Because I don't act my age and neither do you." I guess we meet in the middle.
But what makes Jennifer so extraordinary is what she's overcome. She is smart, beautiful and successful IN SPITE of what someone did to her.
When she was a tiny little girl of 8, someone broke into her bedroom window in the middle of the night, kidnapped her, savagely raped and brutalized her, cut her throat and left her for dead in a field on top of a bed of fire ants.
Her abductor thought she was dead, I'm sure, but Jennifer being the stubborn chick that she is, didn't die. When she was found, she barely had a pulse.
She was rushed to the hospital with multiple injuries and with a severed trachea and vocal cords. She was unable to talk for months and was told she might never speak again. However, she fooled them. That girl is at my desk every morning chatting my ears off (she knows I love it!).
Most young women would be forever emotionally scarred and turn to a dangerous lifestyle, drugs, or worse....
But Jennifer was determined to use her horrible experience to build her life and to help other children.
She's going to be an amazing teacher someday.
The monster has never been found although I'm sure he'll burn in hell with his genitals shoved in his mouth.
So, this is why Jennifer is my hero and I admire the hell out of her.
Also, she's mad ghey, she hates every guy I date, thinks I'm too good for everyone, will tell me when I have bags under my eyes and when I shouldn't wear a certain shirt anymore, hates the music I listen to and makes fun of the way I pronounce certain words. In other words: a good friend.
I have a few favorite blogs and a few favorite bloggers.
One of them happens to also be the World's Best Stalker, Jim of Snooze Button Dreams.
Well, today, he's announced that he's teaming up with 2 more of my favorite bloggers, shank and Paul.
Yes, my friends, this could be a blogging super power. They could possibly rule the blogosphere....or at least be kinda cool.
Yeah, it started out pretty good.
I woke up Saturday morning, took the dogs out, made my bed, hopped in the shower and even shaved my legs!
I had a goal to get a new cell phone and having smooth legs gives me confidence.
A few weeks ago, I had to take my mother to the ER and in my rush to leave, I dropped my phone and broke the hinge.
Now, the phone still worked if I held it a certain way and to keep it closed, I had to use a rubber band.
My friends called it my "Ghetto Phone".
It sucked but I knew that I was due for a new phone in December so I was going to wait until as close to December as possible before I begged Cingular to let me get a new phone.
But as time went by, the phone sucked more and more and it was hard for people to hear me with my phone in two pieces.
So, I was on a mission: to buy a new phone without a bunch of shit from my wireless company. Right. I knew I was in for a fight and I was ready. I was prepared to tell those bastards that I would keep my two pieces of phone until December when my contract expires and then I would go about 15 feet from their kiosk in the mall to Sprint or Verizon's kiosk and get a new phone and a new wireless company and they could kiss my 11 years of customerhood goodbye.
When I approached the counter, I explained my issue to the nice, apple-cheeked agent and I think she could sense I was ready to do battle. Maybe it was my clenched fists and my piercing stare, I don't know, but she checked my account, announced that I wasn't due for a new phone for another 4 weeks and before I could threaten bodily harm, she said, "I can't do anything but take my phone and call customer service and they can give you an early upgrade."
So, all it took was a 5 minute call to customer service and I was in a new phone.
I thanked the cute, chubby little agent for making this so easy and I think I was mistaking my relief for sexual attraction for a moment as we stared into each other's eyes. But then she said "Have a great day." and turned away.
Oh well, I celebrated by buying a new pink satin camisole and matching pink sweater/cardigan thingy to go with my black pants and black strappy heels.
And I also discovered a new scent at Bath and Body Works that I am in LOVE with....Brown Sugar and Fig.
You must go try it. NOW!
Saturday gave way to Sunday and it was a lazy day for me which, besides shopping, is my favorite kind of day.
Then I checked my email....
Patiently waiting in my inbox was an email from the same exboyfriend I talked about in this previous post.
Yes, the one who is no longer speaking to me.
Due to several back and forth emails on Friday, he felt compelled to write a long drawn out letter about all the things that were wrong in our relationship and more importantly, all the things I did wrong and all of my faults (maybe not all my faults. I'm sure there are plenty more).
Did I mention that we broke up a YEAR AGO?
This email was so painful and so hurtful that I was nearly doubled over in pain.
What was the point of dredging this up a year after the relationship ended?
Oh, it was to allow him to move on with his life....that's right.
You see, he's going to read this because he reads my blog regularly. Also, his friends are going to read this because he recently told his friends to read my blog to get to know me.
Why, you ask?
Who the hell knows for sure.
It's been A YEAR. More than a year really. Why do they need to know me now?
And how are they going to get to know me through my blog?
My blog is bullshit.
My blog is not who I am. I mean, sure, I'm funny and my blog is funny sometimes and I have a great rack and my blog has a great rack but don't expect to read my blog and know the real me. I certainly don't expect to read anyone else's blog and know the real them.
So, anywho....
I shocked myself last night. I'm a pretty mean, bitchy and vindictive person when crossed but I didn't respond to his email in the way I might have in a previous incarnation of my life.
In the past, I might have told him how shitty he was in bed or how much of a spineless coward I found him to be -edit note: I'm not saying this is true. I'm just saying that's what I MIGHT have said if I were going to be just as mean- but no, I took the high road and refused to bad-mouth or bash him because after it's all said and done, I don't want to hurt his feelings or cause him any kind of pain. I just want this all to be over.
I wished him luck in moving on with his life and hoped that in writing that email to me, he finds the peace he so desperately craves.
Shit! Check me out! I'm growing as an adult.
Man. I had this great post all blogged out in my head (Actually, the blog in my head is so prolific, smart, funny and popular, you would LOVE it).
I walked around work all day today with this post actually typed out in my brain. I couldn't wait to reach a stopping point so I could sit down and let it flow through my brain, down my arms and out through my finger tips.
However, I sat down and went to retrieve the post from my grey matter and I actually got a 404 Error.
Gone.
No post.
Now, my desk is COVERED in things patiently awaiting my attention so the idea of trying to dig around in the not-so-hard drive that is my brain, is exhausting.
Do hard-core bloggers carry around a digital voice recorder to capture those impromptu posts?
I'm not married and I don't have kids.
I'm the youngest of 5 girls.
I live in a small apartment with my dogs and a cat.
I still listen to Top 40 and other popular music.
I try to follow the trends of fashion and I don't get stuck in one particular decade.
I don't LOOK my age and I certainly don't act it.
Everything listed above is WHO I am, not who I'm trying to be. I'm what some might call young at heart...or whatever.
But sometimes....sometimes I try to be mature. I try to restrain my last vestiges of youthful exuberance, especially while out in public.
This past weekend, I spent a lot of time with a good friend and one of our adventures took place at the Moody Gardens Aquarium on the island.
I visited the aquarium right after it opened and it was nice but I don't remember seeing half the things we saw this weekend.
I immediately found myself gasping and exclaiming loudly when I saw the seals.
Deep inside, I wanted to be a mature adult and say, "Oh, seals. How interesting." and move on.
However, I was nearly running from window to window going, "OMG! Look at that seal! He's flipping. Oh, now he's turning. He's coming out of the water! Look how he swims in circles! Look at that one! Look!!! Oh my gosh, I think he's looking at us!!!"
My companion was far more restrained in his appreciation of the sea life at the aquarium and I acted like a 3 yr old on crack.
My reaction to the freakin penguins was worse.
There were PENGUINS! Cute, fat, happy little penguins!
They waddled, they swam by the windows, they were being fed slimy fish and they seemed to be huddled in groups, chatting about the days events or better yet, gossiping about the ugly tourists staring at them behind the large glass.
I couldn't get enough of these damn penguins!
My poor friend. He didn't know what to do with me.
Oh, did I mention I was trying to make this guy like me?
Not to worry, my lovely readers, I balanced out my immaturity with a low cut top revealing my amazing breasts. Who could resist?
You know what sucks?
I'm a nice person. I'm thoughtful and I'm caring. God, I hate that.
I care about people I shouldn't care about and it pisses me off in ways that you can't even imagine.
Once I love someone, they can treat me like shit and I will still care.
I might not want to be with them anymore and I might not love them, but I still care.
I've had this particular exboyfriend for a year. That's right. He's been an ex for a year now and we've stayed in touch. He's admitted that he still loves me and it was obvious I still cared about him because I still talked to him.
We didn't want to get back together but I found it hard to close that connection too.
Then, one day, he disappeared. I mean, fell-off-the-face-of-the-earth-disappeared.
I figured he was mad for a few days, or possibly out of town. Whatever, no big deal.
Then a week turned into two weeks and then some other signs led me to believe that things may not be ok and I was starting to panic.
What the hell is wrong with me? A concerned email turned into a frantic voicemail message exactly 15 minutes after I sent the email. I couldn't wait for a reply?
I had it all planned out in my head, though.
He died. He was in a horrible car accident that killed him instantly or worse yet, he lingered in a coma, on life support for days until his family made that unimaginable decision to pull the plug and let him die in peace.............and no one called me.
Why would they call me? I'm just an exgirlfriend; no one special. But here I am, in another state, worrying my ass off.
I shared my concerns with a friend who then became concerned with me and fueled my hysteria.
She started searching through local newspapers online and looking for obituaries.
Yes, you read that right. We. Were. Checking. Obituaries. We are both fucking nuts.
Then, less than an hour later, he replies.
He's not dead. He's simply no longer speaking to me.
Christ on a crutch!!
For MONTHS I've been telling myself we needed to cease communication so we could both get on with our lives but I didn't have the balls. He finally does it -without preamble- and I fucking flip out thinking he's dead.
I think I need medication.
Hey, it's ok that he's not speaking to me. As long as he's alive while he's doing it.
It sucks living in my head. I hate myself for caring with an intensity barely matched by Skippy Stalin's own self-loathing.
UPDATE:
After giving it some thought, I guess I'm not really crazy. I've experienced so much death in my family in the last year that I guess, to me, it's not a far-fetched idea that someone -anyone- close to me could die.
It still sucks.
But somehow, I've become one of them.
I am the World's Suckiest Blogger.
There is SO much stuff going on, my mind is racing and I'm a happy girl right now but I can't share it with you.
Sorry, kids. Yes, I'm teasing you with the old "There is something I have to tell you but I can't tell you" routine. Like I said, I suck.
Remember that One Word post? Well, a good friend of the family finally replied and she said "Bubbling". What the fuck does that mean?
I don't bubble...do I? Has anyone out there actually seen me bubble?
I don't think I'm BUBBLY either.
It's a sociological marvel. Is my personality different around different people? If so, isn't that a bad thing? Am I not myself at all times?
Sheesh. Introspection is so much work. I think I'm going back to being complete unaware of my inner being.
For Halloween, I wore a pink TIARA. Not a pink fuzzy bra.
This is a TIARA:
I wore it ON MY HEAD.
I can't tell you how many IMs, emails and a comment (from MEN of course) exclaiming over my choice of Halloween lingerie.
Sorry for the disappointment, fellas.
Please, I wear pink fuzzy lingerie to work on FRIDAYS, people!