preplanned no fun
This diary entry was brewing for weeks and then I could not sleep and got up at 3 am. I decided to SPARGE the WORT* and type it all out and it turned out to be mostly about the small awkwardnesses (and, less frequently, the small joys) of social interaction. I don’t know what that means. Am I a people? A people that needs people? I suppose anything is possible.
*I have a feeling this beer-brewing metaphor does not apply here, but I love these words and use them all the time. LT home-brews and every time he does something remotely beer-related in our basement or backyard I’m like “ARE YOU SPARGING THE WORT????” (Usually, no.)
SOMETHING’S BOUND TO GIVE ME A DISEASE
Not even nine hours after getting home from dinner with cardiologists, I had to be back at work at an unholy hour of the morning for MOAR CARDIOLOGISTS. During the entire all-day meeting I worried that I might have a heart attack from the amount of iced coffee I guzzled in an effort to stay awake, but took a small comfort in the thought that at least one of them should know CPR. Shout-out to iced coffee, by the way. Shout-out to iced coffee, dry shampoo, and Nars “Sheer Glow” foundation. Because if there’s one thing I needed on that day (and every day), it’s a sheer motherfucking glow.
I really really really want to not absorb election news because it makes me haggard and sad, but some of it seeps in no matter what you do, especially since there is a weird loud-talking circus peanut who is somehow the Republican nominee. Conventions are basically just long boring advertisements, but I did see a tiny bit of the DNC. Good job I guess, keep being grown-ups who actually say coherent words. On the other hand: holy shit, that was way too many balloons. Environmentally destructive, toddler-choking, turtle-killing, anxiety-producing (drifting around your house all creepily) balloons. I never made an issue of it, but I used to inwardly cringe every time someone handed my kid a balloon. Although she did make good use of them when they were received, as you can see. (This was a strange prank, as the toilet was not out of order.)
Speaking of toilets, it occurs to me that if you adhered to Greek pluralizing rules, the correct way to refer to an enema plus another enema would be enemata. So that’s a thing you may not have known that you now know.
COME ON PEOPLE NOW, SMILE ON YOUR COMRADE
After the meeting I ended up riding down in the elevator with some very typical, very young polo-shirted and khaki’d dudes, and they were chatting about bars in the area, and one said, “Oh yeah, that’s right by that hotel, we looked at that place for the wedding,” and one guy was like, “What wedding?”
First guy: My wedding.
Other guys: You’re getting MARRIED??
First guy: Yeah.
Then there was a bro-chorus of “Wow!” and “Congratulations!” and “That’s wonderful!” and even one honest-to-god “Awwww!” It was not what I expected, and it cheered me.
Something else that cheered me: Seeing all the tattooed metal-moms at the L7 reunion show. There was a heartwarming 90s vibe going on that night, with multiple women turning around and saying, “Do you want to stand in front of me?” THANKS FOR POINTING OUT MY SHORTNESS nah I’m just kidding, it was nice. Riot grrrrrl’s not dead.
MESS WITH THE MONSTER MUPPET, GET THE HORNS
Just so we don’t get too mushy here, I will also tell you about the other afternoon, where apparently, without knowing it, I was in the way of a woman at Nordstrom. Instead of saying, “excuse me,” tapping me on the shoulder, or doing any other human-interaction thing to let me know of my transgression, she decided to let out a bunch of clucking noises and a huge sigh. I turned around and moved away, but not without first giving her a monster-face with monster-teeth and making my hands into monster claws. It was so satisfying that I have decided to make it my default reaction to unexpected rudeness.
—mimi smartypants returned the gift.