I photosynthesize. Literally. Which is why I only have friends from October to March. In the summer, I am up all day long – like right now! Jumping on furniture and cats and having monkey climbing contests with Madeline and Emily (they are 9, so it isn’t a like a bunch of 40 year olds are hanging off the monkey bars at Cowen Park) Just one, but I think the neighbors are used to me by now. Like they are used to me mowing the lawn at 3 a.m. Because the grass gets all long and stuff.
In the summer, I turn into a complete spaz. Which is why if you came into my kitchen right now, you could literally eat off the floor. What makes it worse is that I have been unemployed or marginally employed, for the past few months. This was fine when I was in Indonesia and Australia traveling and running from large insects, but now that I am home, I am driving everyone nuts.
I even stopped drinking caffeine and start every day with a run. Nothing helps. I should probably volunteer with a iguana shelter or something, but I hate iguanas and I don’t think those probably exist. Iguana shelters. I think Iguanas probably do, although it seems unnecessary.
I do have the best friends on earth. I got shirts made for them (no one wears them, they just smile awkwardly, say “thank you” and go back to the iguana shelter to help the homeless parrots). Just because one time I bailed them out of jail in Reno, they are willing to put up with neurotic calls from me like 35 times a day. Although I probably shouldn’t press my luck. (Jess, wear the BLACK one, it makes you look sexy!)
My ex boyfriends are also very kind to me. I am not sure why, but I only have two exes (and let’s not get into the numbers game, I DID date the entire wrestling team). EWW! Did not! Did not! Out of pure fashion snobbery, I did not. MAYBE soccer, or skate boarding teams – that hate me (boyfriends, not sports teams). The two that do I think might actually be mentally ill. I am a pretty good girlfriend and a really good normal friend and I don’t really hold grudges or put people in fucked up situations and frequently buy dinner, which is why I am going to spend the rest of my life convincing these two guys to like me. Except for the restraining orders. (All I did was bring you a six pack and a bagel dude, was that really necessary?) At least he lives in Portland and I can’t drive that far to stalk him regularly because I am too lazy. He is only the second person to de-friend me on facebook. The first was a trumpet player from the south that had an adorable accent and lived on a sofa around a bunch of PRB cans in lower Queen Anne. I met him at a show and he had a great hat. What is my attraction to alcoholic musicians? Am I trying to support Sound Garden?
**Note to the attorneys for Sound Garden, this is satire and, therefore, protected speech, so chill. And I can’t even list a song your guys sang. And are any of them single?
Anyway, I think I am going back to my old company’s spin off company next week. It is going to be weird not being the head of HR for a big organization, but I have to do something here. The next door neighbor is really sick of me offering to tweak his resume. Although he did mow the 87 year old guy’s lawn last night at like 9 which was really charming. Hey neighbor, next time, take *off* your shirt. Because you are like 21 years old and gorgeous. This sounds pervy, but I live in the city and you can’t help notice your neighbors when they are like 5 feet from you.
So Corbin (my writing coach) needs to get back from her iguana saving mission in the rainforest, I need to go to bed and my friends need to throw my phone in the lake so I don’t call them any more. My ex used to just walk by water (ocean, lake, puddle) and whatever electronic device he had on him would just jump out of his pocket and commit electronic suicide – it was funny until he left me in Lake Washington after a canoe tipping incident in which three Asian guys pulled my big white ass out of the water by my shorts. And I don’t have a big ass. My thighs could kill you in a cage fighting match, but my ass couldn’t even scrape Betty Crocker’s arm. Because I am all Irish and flat assed.
Kymmer’s birthday today – gotta pick up the sake. Love to Gina and Madeline and Emily and the British Chick and the guy with the red shirt that helped me round up the kids at the park and Jess and Paul and Karen (because when I walk down the street, people know my hairdresser cares about me – and my hair looks good!) (and I think your ass looks hot in those jeans, Karen, own it!) and Roxaneimal and Eli and Choo and Carol and Fred and Clover. And Paigey. And, mom, I am sorry for hitting you in the face over my childhood because you are dead and don’t feel it that much so it doesn’t count and I am really sorry I am kind of a bitch about it. You were a good mom. That is why I keep you in my house next to my signed copy of The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. And hitting you in the metaphorical face is a sign of respect in our culture. Yeah. In Brooklyn. We are from the old country.