File Under: I need to stop.

Tip #1 for surviving the day:

Look through the window before looking at your reflection and making suggestive faces at yourself.

Proof: Today I opened a Jell-O fruit cup and licked the top of the gelatin. I noticed my reflection in a window, and saw how funny my tongue looked without its bar. It was only after about six or seven of these seductive licks that I noticed there was a small-yet-captive audience on the other side of the glass. Whoops.

*buries head in red-faced shame*

I probably should have said something before now, but a couple of things haven't happened. One, I am dis-engaged. I have been for about six weeks now. I realized it one day when I noticed that I had to take my ring off just to breathe normally. I don't think I am ready to promise my future to anybody yet, as much as I want to.

I haven't picked up my prescription yet, which is over a week old. I don't know if I will, it's expensive, and I don't want it anymore.

I skipped my doctor's appointment. The day I made it is the worst things have been, yes, but it's getting better. Plus the appointment was at 7:30 a.m. and I NEED TO SLEEP.

I spent some time with an old friend recently, and I'm thinking that perhaps I shouldn't see him again for awhile, because my thoughts went somewhere they shouldn't. If I knew Wayne was thinking this way about another woman, I'd hurt him or myself and that just isn't fair, is it?

Special Olympics

Last night I had a sad little talk with the boyfriend in which he told me that he has done things with his ex-girlfriend (while they were toghether) some things that guys always ask their girlfriends to try "just once!", things that I will never, never do because I'm not that type of person. He has made the request multiple times in the past, and even though he isn't disappointed when I tell him no, I still feel like I'm in competition with her.

And now she has attempted to reconnect with him via the internet.

Novelly Graphic

It's sad that, in some situations, you are given a bad reputation and only one or two chances to remedy it, and you miss the boat because your mother taught you that you aren't supposed to let boys near the Danger Zone until you're safely married with children. (Don't ask me how they got there, Mary did it and apparantly so did my Mother.)

What I mean to say is this. Boys, I put out. Not often, but I always get the A+ for effort, if you know what I mean. There's one gentleman in particular who I think of from time to time, wistfully dreaming of walking up to him and saying, "I totally screw now, and I owe you one," just so he'll start talking to me again. Yeah, I know, I know you empowerment types are all, "honor the inner Goddess!" and all that, I know that having sex just to, um, reinvent myself is cheapening a "sacred" act; but girls, so is buttsex. Let's not forget that Megan has boundaries. (Um, thank God.)

The Wayne in Maine mainly is a pain

Can I just tell you how amazing last night's dinner was? DB (Darling Boyfriend, rather than DH) made an awesome barbecue feast while I sat on my white ass and played Final Fantasy.

Oh, and DB got a myspace.

Minha Família

I miss my family. I haven't been able to spend quality time with anyone in months, sometimes I think that contributes to the sicknesses I sometimes think I have.

Nana sent me a card today; she's the one I'm mainly worried about. My grandfather's been sick for a long time and she's not one to ask for help. Besides Donna and Joy, I don't know who else in the family realizes how much stress she's under, so I worry she's not being taken care of. I'm guilty because I haven't had time to visit, but I haven't written or called either. Not for lack of wanting to, just... I don't know. Laziness?

Cheers to Hashbrown Gilbert

I don't know why, but when my days are profound and scary, you're the one I want nearby to make me feel normal. Thanks for understanding me.




*Hashbrown Gilbert is Dave's superhero name. The last food you ate and a grandfather's name. Mine is Popcorn Charlie.

I just bit the bullet and dialed my doctor's office. The woman at the desk was curt, but softened once she heard the desperate quavering of my voice. She sent in a prescription for thirty more doses of the Good Stuff, a whole glorious month's supply of my sunshine-bringing crack. (That phrase will be used later, I'm sure, to describe Wayne's ass. He's taken to mooning.)

I'm such a loser. I heard my nurse's voice and wanted to start bawling, "Fix me!" I figured that might be a little less than professional, so I kept it chill. We were like drug dealers. If we were a little more 'hood, thing's would've gone like so:

"Hey."
"Hey."
"I need a fix man, you holdin'?"
"I ain't holdin, girl, but I can get what you need."
"Werd?"
"Werd."
"Tuesday, 7:30. And I'll need a li'l somethin-somethin to keep me happy 'til then."
"You got it. Tonight, by five. Be there."
"Werd."
"Werd."

There's no knowing where we're going...

I need to do something to get through this anxiety. Every day it's becoming worse, this morning I was crippled by it, and I have never felt it so strongly as I do this year. It's seasonal, every Autumn I become bogged down in an emotional cesspool. Heyyy kids, ever wanted a nice ride? Try a new anti-something drug every year, its AWESOME. Anti-migraine? Anti-depressant? Anti-anxiety? Colors are brighter and the birds sing sweeter, for a few days anyway. That is, until you realize you've become numbed once again, and are going to spend the next five months hibernating in a mind-melting cave of medicines strong enough to cause seizures.

I'm going to write a book on it. Novacaine for the soul, all about the incredible adventures of Alice as she falls down the rabbit hole One. More. Time.

I know I'm in a bad place emotionally when a "thank you" e-mail from a client gets me misty-eyed. There was lots of arguing last night and small kindnesses from strangers are overwhelming in the wake of it.

I want to be with someone who won't argue. I don't know if this is possible, but I want the guy I'm with to be able to hear what I'm trying to say without focusing on how I'm saying it. I try to do that, and I'm about 50% successful. I just don't like stating that there's a problem and then having to defend myself. The fact that I admitted things aren't perfect leaves me vulnerable enough. When I say something, I want you to answer like you still love me, and I don't think that's too much to ask.

Aww

Congrats to Sarah and Czac married today at 1:30.

S-N-Double O-P (D-O-Double G-zee)

Is it ok to read my boyfriends email? I only did it once, just now, because I wanted to see if I had done his equifax registration correctly. When I opened the mailbox, one Re: line heralded, "Your Latest Matches on Yahoo Personals!"

*Blink.*

Excuse me?

A personals site?

So I did what any red-blooded American Girl would do. I signed on to Yahoo Personals and checked his search criteria. After all, I wanted to see what was important to him in a girl; that's fair, right?

The only criteria Prince Charming had thought were important were: "Speaks: English", "Race: Caucasian/White", "Photos Only", and "Body Type: Slender".

I'm white enough you can't tell I'm not all white, and I speak English and Spanish, but I am totally not what one could call "slender". I'm not even what one could call "svelte". I'm more.. soft? I'm not huge, though I would not fall at the "slender" end of the spectrum, yet THAT is his FIRST criteria in a woman?

I feel like sludge. Like a big pink piggy that rolls in poop, that's my self-esteem after reading what's most important to him.

I knew he was on Personals a long time ago, but he said he cancelled his membership. This makes me wonder how long ago his "most recent search" was. Just when I was starting to feel comfortible in my own skin, I have to snoop. I'm torn now between talking to him about it, or maybe checking his email while he's right there, so I'm not actually snooping. Yknow, re-enacting checking the credit registration, jokingly purring "Ooh, Personals?" and letting things follow their natural course.

Or maybe just let him suffer dating a fat chick as the price for hiding what's important to him.

I hate.. stuff.

Post Secret #2 (No, they're not mine)

My First Post Secret

40 about Me

1. My uncle once: picked me up in a big drawstring camping bag, carried me around, and then set me down and forgot to untie it.

2. Never in my life: will I ever willingly watch the musical Cats

3. When I was five: my mother videotaped me as I was afflicted with chicken pox in various locations, including my ever-heralded “Pah-gynah”

4. High School was: a misery and a time of pretending.

5. I will never forget: what I used to believe.

6. I once met: a few European men who I still think about once in awhile. Dirty thoughts they are, too.

7. There's this girl I know who: wants to go with me on a “nipple piercing spree”.

8. Once, at a bar: someone tried to steal my shoes while I was wearing them.

9. By noon, I'm usually: looking forward to the end of the next five hours.

10. Last night: I had a really huge fight with the boyfriend only to do very, very nasty things with him an hour later.

11. If I only had: everything handed to me on a silver plate, then I think I’d be able to be a good person.

12. Next time I go to church: will be for a childhood friend‘s wedding, this Saturday.

13. Terry Shiavo: is a good reason everyone should form a living will.

14. What worries me most: is that I will someday die, not knowing if I should’ve denied myself worldy pleasures or whether I should’ve taken advantage of everything that came my way.

15. When I turn my head left, I see: a gigantic curtain that separated our half of the home from the “in-laws”; its currently shifting as four cats wrestle against the other side.

16. When I turn my head right, I see: my dismantled lava-lamp (I’m using the base as a spotlight) and a grossly dirty living room.

17. You know I'm lying when: you catch me in it.

18. What I miss most about the eighties: nothing, not even my first four years of life.

19. If I was a character in Shakespeare, I'd be: Juliet- all idealism with common sense that fails at the wrong time.

20. By this time next year: I’ll be happier than I am right now.

21. A better name for me would be: Gravel-brain?

22. I have a hard time understanding: bullshit artists. If you don't think what you have to say is good enough, why are you still talking?

23. If I ever go back to school, I'll: be better organized than I was last time.

24. You know I like you if: I tease you.

25. If I ever won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: the one who signs my paychecks.
26. Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: Einstein, Vivaldi, Joss Stone & Sylvia Plath.

27. Take my advice, never: see a movie before reading the book.

28. My ideal breakfast is: watermelon, kiwi and grapefruit as a fruit salad, with toast.

29. A song I love, but do not own is: Got You Where I Want You by the Flys

30. If you visit my hometown, I suggest: stopping at the Daily Scoop for some Monster Mash ice cream. (Good lord it’s yummy.)

31. Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: Daisies (I’ll know Prince Charming when he gives me daisies without my asking), jealousy (and insecurity and paranoia and, and and..), my alarm clock and Maria Sharapova

32. Why won't people: stop going on talk shows?

33. If you spend the night at my house: I expect cuddling, if you‘re in my bed. Or drinking.

34. I'd stop my wedding for: fear of making a huge mistake.

35. The world could do without: fanatics.

36. I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: walk into a room full of people.

37. My favorite blonde is: Brad Pitt, who is even better as a non-blonde.

38. Paper clips are more useful than: staples.

39. If I do anything well, it's: behaving self-indulgently.

40. And by the way: I always need someone to set me straight.