conversations

I was looking at my blog and I noticed that I have 162 posts in my draft folder.  These are all posts that I started but never finished because they didn’t feel substantial enough to be published but then I thought that maybe if I clumped 3 or 4 of them together they would be worth one post.  Or they’d be 3 or 4 times worse than most of my posts.  Either way?  This is happening.  You might want to just avoid my blog this week.

******************************

Every time I get into a cab I always sit there for a few seconds waiting for the disco lights to start blinking on the ceiling and then they don’t and I’m all “Oh, another not-Cash Cab.  Awesome.”  I bet cabbies get tired of hearing that all day.  One day when I’m 80 I’ll probably get into the cash cab but I’ll have been so disappointed by that time that I’ll be all “You know what, cash cab?  Too late. You blew it.”   Then I’ll just walk away.  It’s too fucking late, Cash Cab.

******************************

There’s a rumor in my family that somehow Marlene Dietrich is related to us.  My sister (the family genealogist) has been unable to prove it but I like to think it’s true.  I liked to imagine that there’s a little bit of Marlene Dietrich in me.  Dark, brooding, and shrouded in mystery.  Then I remember that I’m chronically unable to stop over-sharing and that everyone with basic internet access knows my  phobias,  my weaknesses and has seen me in various states of undress.  I’m not the dark, brooding girl shrouded in mystery and I’ll never be her.

My sister did call to tell me though that she was getting closer to confirming that our great, great aunt was murdered by our great, great uncle when he hammered a nail through her skull and buried her in the backyard.  Well, that seems about right.

******************************

me:  It’s a good thing that Prince isn’t on twitter because there isn’t a key for the symbol of his name so no one could ever @ him.

Victor:  Huh.  Remember when we used to talk about things that weren’t about twitter?

me:  Not…really?

******************************

Last week I went to my rheumatologist to get more meth and I was the only person in the waiting room under 90.  And I sat there thinking that these people could literally die of old age in the waiting room and that it sucks that they’re wasting the short amount of time they have left in the world in a doctor’s office and I was thinking of just letting everyone in the waiting room go ahead of me because it’s not like I had anything to do but then Victor called and I explained what I was going to do and he was all “The fuck? You have PLENTY to do.  We have no clean clothes in the house.  You sent Hailey to school in a swimsuit” and then I hung up on him because it was a swimsuit cover-up thank-you-very-much and she fucking picked it out herself. And she had clean socks.  If you’re wearing clean socks and you don’t have hooks for hands then I’ve succeeded as a mother.  Then one of the old people started coughing and it was this hacky death-rattke cough and I thought that maybe I’d cursed the old people so I ran over and got him some water and he was fine but then an old lady asked for some water too which was weird but I got it and when I gave it to her she asked if the wait  would be much longer and I was all “Oh, I don’t work here” and then another one asked me if she was in the right waiting room and I was all “I DON’T WORK HERE, OLD PEOPLE” but they didn’t seem to get it even though I was wearing jeans and a ripped Tori Amos t-shirt.  This is why next time I’m waiting at the rheumatologists office I’m going to wear a halter top and some short-shorts so that it’ll be more obvious.  Then the nurse called my name and I considered telling her that everyone else could go first but you know what?  Fuck that.  I got those assholes water and none of them even said ‘thank you’.  Way to waste your time being impolite, old people.  Then I told the nurse that next time she saw me I’d be in a halter top and short-shorts and she was all “Oh, you’re going on a diet?”  Awesome.  I am never going back there again.

*******************************

Did you know that the guy that invented the Marconi radio telegraph system was named Guglielmo Marconi?  I don’t know Italian very well but I’m pretty sure that’s pronounced “Googley – Elmo”.  I cannot say this name out loud without laughing.  I bet whoever presented his Nobel Prize had to practice saying his name for like a week before he could say it without cracking up.

******************************

Me morphed with Marlene Dietrich. It's like we're fucking TWINS, y'all. Except that she has a huge head. Also, why is one eye more closed than the other? I can't tell if she's drunk or if she's having a stroke. Which is *exactly* what my sister said about me at our last family reunion. I think this proves something. Probably something about how I need to stop drinking so much around judgmental family members who are most likely just angry that they have to be the designated driver but maybe you should have thought about that before you started breast-feeding, Lisa. *I* didn't get you pregnant. You brought this on yourself.

Comment of the day: I’m related to the Fondas. And Pocahontas. And my family invented chewing gum. And gatorade. Different sides of the family. Mom’s side is gum, dad’s side is gatorade. Why I’m not eating off of solid gold plates? I have no idea. Oh wait. Yes I do. Cocaine.  That’s why. ~ Miss Grace

{ 190 comments }