you break it you buy it
WHAT'S MY NAME
Wait, 2009? What the eff? Where have I been?
My holidays were definitely a mixed bag.* The gift-and-cookie fest was good, but LT got deathly ill with strep throat just in time for my birthday, missing my dinner out and everything. And sick people are irritating. I know that is not nice to say and I did feel sad for him, but I have only a tiny amount of nice-nurse in me and then I'm just like OH MY GOD. At least he mostly had the decency to stay in bed and out of my sight, since there is nothing worse than cleaning and laundry-ing and coming up with entertainments for a stir-crazy child while the other parent lies motionless on the couch. If you're in bed, I can pretend you are not here, and then there is no resentment about how I am doing it all.
*I so love the word “bag.” That's my bag! Don't leave me holding it! Space bag, bag balm, goodie bag, barf bag! Sleeping bag! Lunch bag! I feel a bag-related poetry slam coming on! Somebody stop me! Plus “bag” can be used as a synonym for “scrotum,” which is a huge plus if you make scrotum-related jokes as often as I do.
Anyway, LT got antibiotics and felt better by New Year's Eve, which was child-free (we left her at
a storage locker Grandma's house) and very nice. Except that there was no champagne at midnight, which I slightly judge. I am not even all that fond of champagne (see the four most overrated items), but I am fond of tradition.
MAKING FRIENDS ON THE TRAIN
As almost ten years' worth of online diary entries will show, strangers like to talk to me. I have long since stopped wondering why, and now I just respond with whatever is in my heart that day—anything from a hearty “fuck you” to stony silence to a pleasant conversation. Or even sometimes outright lies or my own private brand of performance art.
Yesterday a rather twitchy and smelly gentleman sat next to me on the train. I discreetly pulled my scarf up over my nose and continued reading my book. He twitched and stank for a while and then pulled out a religious comic book and tried to give it to me.
Me: No thanks.
SmellyMan: It's cold today, you know? We all need Jesus. We all need Jesus to save our souls.
Me [not really getting the Jesus/temperature connection, but whatever]: Okay, but no thanks.
SM: You'll learn. You'll learn. It's cool. You'll open your heart and you'll learn.
Me: [vague "you can shut up any time now" murmuring noise]
SM: Just don't do drugs. Oh Jesus, save us from the drugs. Stay away from the drugs.
Me [deciding to have some fun]: Drugs are pretty great, though.
SM [alarmed]: Oh NO! Sweetheart, don't do drugs! What you hooked on?
Me: This and that. Mostly the crack.
SM: OH SWEET JESUS! Crack is the devil! Baby, you've got to get off the crack. How much crack you smoking?
Me: Not that much. Maybe…three or four pounds a day?
SM: Lord have mercy!…wait. Three or four pounds? Do you mean three or four rocks?
Me: Yeah, but each rock weighs about a pound. I get some BIG rocks.
SM [starting to look more closely at my mom-purse and bookish glasses and non-crack-addict clothing]: Well…you shouldn't do drugs.
Me: I'll stop soon, don't worry. Maybe I'll stop today!
Last 3 books I read:
Pretty Monsters by Kelly Link: I had high hopes but I was disappointed. I skipped maybe three of the stories entirely after being all “blah” about their opening pages. There are some good ones in there too but it's just not a book worth owning for me (luckily it was a gift).
Rapture Ready! by Daniel Radosh: Awesome! This would have been a funny one-trick pony if all it did was take down evangelical pop culture, but the author really goes more deeply into things and I alternately laughed and went “hmmm, I need to think some more about that.” A big thumbs-up from this total unbeliever!
Pikachu's Global Adventure: The Rise and Fall of PokÉmon edited by Joseph Tobin: Is there anything better than a collection of academic essays about PokÉmon? NO. I only wish I could have attended the conference where the papers were first presented. I would like to get drunk and argue PokÉmon with a bunch of tweedy PhD-types, please.
Here is Nora with a book she wrote herself:
Maybe our incoming president would appreciate a copy. We will wait for publication of The Pocket-Sized Book Of How To Defeat Evil Guys, though. Or just send a PDF.
I would also like to point out that Nora's bandana sports a skull-and-crossbones that she cut out of paper and scotch-taped to her head, because apparently the head covering was not bad-ass enough on its own.
—mimi smartypants: this and that, mostly the crack.