pitch-shifted vocal samples
HI HI HELLO HI
I have not updated in a long time.
MY FANTASY JOKE
If anyone ever texted me a dick pic, I would want to immediately text back a picture of a better-looking dick. This is unlikely to happen—the dudes in my social circle were raised correctly, and LT could just wait until he got home to show me in person—but I kind of want to have a dick pic at the ready just in case. BUT DON’T TEXT ME ONE, I will just get it off the internet or something.
PENINSULA
Speaking of dicks, we were in Florida recently. It’s shaped like a dick! Kind of.
This was a random long weekend in Fort Lauderdale. I guess LT had been quietly freaking out over Chicago’s long cold winter, because one evening he called me over to the computer and showed me a Southwest ticketing page, and I said fine, press that button.
- I went ocean fishing and caught my first fish ever! I did not expect that to happen as I was mostly along on that outing for the sun and the waves and the fishing juice (Miller High Life), but I bravely impaled a small squid on a hook and caught a fish! (And then put it back in the ocean.)
- Nora caught several fish as did LT, but they are experienced at the whole thing. Therefore my fish should count as at least two fish.
- Went on an airboat thing in a swamp, saw wild alligators, held a baby alligator, used a lot of hand sanitizer.
- Saw some graffiti that said “PENGUIN DICK,” which made Nora and me very giggly/embarrassed/confused. (I like having a 12-year-old.)
- Spent hours and hours in the pool. I am always content to just bob around in the shallow end, with sunglasses and dry hair, but Nora treated every excursion down to the hotel pool like an Olympic workout: watch me swim the entire perimeter of the pool! Throw this rock somewhere and I’ll dive for it! Watch this! Mom! Watch! Watch me burn off the thousands of calories that I did not eat today!
- Then: flight home got canceled because of big Chicago snow. Oh no, what a tragedy. LT went to a skanky Florida laundromat to freshen up our limited clothing selection and I padded over from the pool, plastic cup of beer in hand, to extend our stay by two more nights.
LET’S BE MINDFUL, IN A GROUP
I am exploring alternatives/adjuncts to my little dose of chill-the-fuck-out (Lexapro). There is no urgency to the idea of quitting the meds—no bad side effects, no weird Puritan idea that I “shouldn’t” need them—but life is one long self-experiment so let’s get the science fair started, yo.
To that end I am taking a group “mindfulness” class. That should not be funny but it kind of is. Mindfulness! In a group! Anyway, it’s once a week and we are learning to meditate and be floating pieces of garbage in a sewer-runoff stream. (I think the instructor actually used the image of leaves floating down a river but I urbanized it.)
I cannot say I am 100% sold on the idea of not paying much attention to one’s thoughts—an idea that will make any diarist/blogger nervous indeed—but this class has made me realize why CBT and the like never even began to work for me. That kind of therapy seems to be all about telling yourself NO and STOP and FLIP THE SCRIPT and THINK SOMETHING ELSE. For someone like me, with irrational intrusive thoughts and nonsensical compulsive behaviors, that is counterproductive. I am already plenty strict with myself, thanks. Better for my thoughts to be more like empty Funyuns bags swirling down the gutter, watch them go, don’t follow. Bye.
—mimi smartypants lets the punishment fit the crime.