Why yes, I do still blog
I want to be an optimist. I always have. The power of positive thinking, well, it’s just utterly seductive. But then a lifetime of experience and common sense kick in, and I know I’m doomed. My life is trying to kill me. I suppose I should be grateful though, that I’m not one of those sad people with the rose-colored glasses and belief that everything will be alright. The kind of people who have been so tricked into believing in ‘hope,’ that they are shocked at life’s obstacles and cry “why me” when the bad times come. In the last thirty-one days, I’ve been hit with thousands of dollars in car repair bills – yes, hundreds for the parts, thousands for the dealership labor; two days in the hospital, hundreds of dollars in medical bills, a guest at my apartment breaking my glass shower doors
and necessitating almost a grand in contractor and replacement costs, all leading up to my getting the dreaded, though not entirely unexpected…how did they put it in the DaVinci Code? “This far you may come and no father,” speech from my employer. Really? You couldn’t tell me this before I hired a contractor? I mean, “yes, of course, why wouldn’t this all happen at once?” I decided to head out West to visit friends and take my mind off my…um.. interesting times, and the night I left, not only did I discover my car had a flat-the first flat
I’ve ever had in the seven years since I bought the Professor. Then Karol forced me to watch the gawd awful Mad Men. Like four episodes of them in a row. In California, I somehow managed to donate almost a grand to the local Oakland…um…book club community. And then Fisch lost me to some gang members in a poker game. And then, because it was 20 degrees below zero and snowing, I caught a wicked cold and spent the six hour flight back to New York in a middle seat bioterrorizing the freakishly squeamish soccer mom in the window seat with spectacularly timed hacking coughs.
“Why me,” she seemed to ask as she covered her head in her pretty beige cashmere scarf and held her face against the window.
Because.
If my life is going to kill me, I will not go alone. Hey, now! That’s positively optimistic of me.
Perhaps there’s still hope.
November 1st, 2007 at 5:33 pm
Awesome. You’re taking all of us down with you.
Do you want me to tell you about my teeth? With the swelling and the bruising and chisel in the bone and the mallet to the face? Cause I can tell you all about it, if you’d like.
And Mad Men rocks. I mean, you’re watching that crapola Heroes so you’re opinion on TV shows has hit rock bottom.
November 1st, 2007 at 5:35 pm
“This far you may come and no father,”
I believe they call that a Freudian slip.
November 2nd, 2007 at 12:11 am
I broke a small piece of tooth today myself. You are taking us down. Bitchface. (and also, meow, looks like Karol’s gunning for you)
November 2nd, 2007 at 3:00 am
1 comment.
November 2nd, 2007 at 3:59 am
You’re mean and cold and distant. Just like my father. And you lost me in a poker game. Just like my father.
November 2nd, 2007 at 4:21 am
I want to be like your mother.
November 2nd, 2007 at 8:15 am
This is what it sounds like when the doves cry.
November 2nd, 2007 at 12:47 pm
When doves cry. Not when THE doves cry. Ugh. For the drizzle, Maam.
November 2nd, 2007 at 1:25 pm
Hmmm, sounds like you’re close to being ready to move to San Diego, and roll the dice again. We’ll get you a nice condo downtown with a view of the bay, a healthier lifestyle, a government lawyer-girl job where you won’t have to do any real work, and some new friends. You’ll also have your choice of a half dozen indian casinos all within a thirty minute drive, and have I mentioned Vegas baby? Ten minute cab to the airport, thirty minute flight, ten minute limo to the strip.
November 2nd, 2007 at 2:10 pm
That shower door was already broken! I vote you become a scab during this writer’s strike.
November 2nd, 2007 at 3:43 pm
Pi she blames you for the shower door and me for the car…but we all know she’s delusional*.
*that’s 3 comments. I expect to hear from you hourly.
November 2nd, 2007 at 5:43 pm
I blame you for the flat tire. I don’t blame Pi for anything.
November 4th, 2007 at 11:33 am
Hey Dawn,
Sorry about the last 31 days. They sound sucky. Come to DC and hang out with us for a while. It’ll take your mind off of things.
It could be (only slightly) worse, you could now be 32 like me instead of just 25.
DRobbSki
November 4th, 2007 at 5:50 pm
I leave for a few weeks and everything falls apart.
Can I represent you in the discrimination suit? Because beyond the race thing it is definitely foul that they won’t promote you because you have no father.