I just found this most excellent blog by Dragon Lady, but some evil Blogsource place is giving me crap about leaving my comment to say to Kloe, Dragon Lady author: I'm loving the blog, I'm 41 too, and I'm right there with ya, Sister. You may remember Michael Dukakis. At some point, there was a bumper sticker that read "Making it in Massachusetts." After he lost the presidential election, or around the time of the tank debacle, there was an updated version: "Barely Making it in Massachusetts." That would be us.
So as soon as the little Blogsource people inside the computer stop re-presenting the same screen with no cue as to the problem, I'll comment. In the meantime, I will be lurking at Kloe's. I recommend her to any mother who did not give birth to a 21-year-old college graduate and/or must contemplate the oppression of the all-fucking-mighty dollar. And then try that when you're sick. Kloe, I'm adding you to my Blogroll. If I had categories, you would come under "Hold the Bullshit and/or Stock the Ibuprofen."
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The Misuse of Information for My Own Entertainment or Lying for Fun
My high school pals wanna go to a reunion. It's not really ours, but the class that graduated a year before us has invited us to come. We went to a rather unconventional school, so it's at someone's home. Chrystal was in the actual class - a year ahead of me - so of course she wants me to go. But it is a bit odd going to your not-quite reunion. It's like foreplay, but not exactly the real thing. Or maybe watching someone else do it? And the people you really loathed, or lusted after, because that's kind of at the heart of it, right? Well they may or may not be there. The real draw is probably the people who rouse one's curiosity: the dork who's a millionaire; the cool guy who's definitely not; the one you got it on with and then regretted it every day thereafter.
I'd like to be one of those people who's just friendly to everyone, and I am pretty friendly. I say hello to people as they stroll by. But overly-friendly truly sours my stomach. The smile a bit too long, the sustained interest in my kids, etc. So why would I even consider going? I think it's because of the friends from my class who I am so happy to be getting re-acquainted with. Charlotte, for example, was always full of information, a walking trivia bank, and also hilarious. Roberta lives quite closeby, and has managed to stay in touch with a remarkable number of people from our school. She was The Babe, and The Intelligent Babe, with an aura about her so strong that even as a close friend I only discovered recently some very basic information about her. I had assumed her life was perfect in every way. Let's just say I may not have been quite as clever as I obviously am now.
Pondering my quandary about the reunion - since Chrystal does want me to go, and Charlotte is campaigning as well, I spoke to another friend from Chrystal's class. He's a way cool California guy, much sweeter than I'll ever be, but in touch with his sense of humor. I had decided at that time that creating a monumental lie would be the best way to enjoy myself. I sometimes entertain myself by creating such projects in public places - one of my favorites was when I suddenly began yelling at an older friend- "Mom! I don't want that!" in the supermarket. Ooh, that was evil. My sister-in-law, Betty, has suffered on the subway platform as I've hollered at her in a Southern accent, creating kooky names like, well, Betty. I have a local friend who partners up whenever we meet anywhere, and we've had some great public disputes.
Anyway, the idea that my cool California chum, Barney, had, was to feign Tourrette's Syndrome. We went to a progressive school and it was, and apparently is, important to be politically correct. As someone who actually is p.c. in many ways, I enjoy making fun of myself. (How's that for a rationale?) Anyway, feigning Tourrette's has a double purpose: you can say whatever you want about the pretentious bitch who you never liked and you can garner sympathy from old classmates as you apologize excessively for the expletives hurled at the she-devil who hasn't changed a bit. (She doesn't deserve a name, but I'll call her Voldemort, just for clarity.) This would be particularly effective because I actually did have a mild form of epilepsy when I was a teenager. Finally, all that shaking and stuttering could be put to good use.
I am not sure that Roberta, Charlotte, Chrystal et al would actually go for my ploy, as they may want to do the friendly thing. How cliche. But of course they are accomplished professionals and, well, I'm a professional, but I am not in the mood to discuss anything like the work I do, how cute my children are (I hate that crap), or what anyone else thinks about anything. However, if someone wants to sit around, drink, and tell tasteless and offensive stories with swear-words - that I might go for.
I'd like to be one of those people who's just friendly to everyone, and I am pretty friendly. I say hello to people as they stroll by. But overly-friendly truly sours my stomach. The smile a bit too long, the sustained interest in my kids, etc. So why would I even consider going? I think it's because of the friends from my class who I am so happy to be getting re-acquainted with. Charlotte, for example, was always full of information, a walking trivia bank, and also hilarious. Roberta lives quite closeby, and has managed to stay in touch with a remarkable number of people from our school. She was The Babe, and The Intelligent Babe, with an aura about her so strong that even as a close friend I only discovered recently some very basic information about her. I had assumed her life was perfect in every way. Let's just say I may not have been quite as clever as I obviously am now.
Pondering my quandary about the reunion - since Chrystal does want me to go, and Charlotte is campaigning as well, I spoke to another friend from Chrystal's class. He's a way cool California guy, much sweeter than I'll ever be, but in touch with his sense of humor. I had decided at that time that creating a monumental lie would be the best way to enjoy myself. I sometimes entertain myself by creating such projects in public places - one of my favorites was when I suddenly began yelling at an older friend- "Mom! I don't want that!" in the supermarket. Ooh, that was evil. My sister-in-law, Betty, has suffered on the subway platform as I've hollered at her in a Southern accent, creating kooky names like, well, Betty. I have a local friend who partners up whenever we meet anywhere, and we've had some great public disputes.
Anyway, the idea that my cool California chum, Barney, had, was to feign Tourrette's Syndrome. We went to a progressive school and it was, and apparently is, important to be politically correct. As someone who actually is p.c. in many ways, I enjoy making fun of myself. (How's that for a rationale?) Anyway, feigning Tourrette's has a double purpose: you can say whatever you want about the pretentious bitch who you never liked and you can garner sympathy from old classmates as you apologize excessively for the expletives hurled at the she-devil who hasn't changed a bit. (She doesn't deserve a name, but I'll call her Voldemort, just for clarity.) This would be particularly effective because I actually did have a mild form of epilepsy when I was a teenager. Finally, all that shaking and stuttering could be put to good use.
I am not sure that Roberta, Charlotte, Chrystal et al would actually go for my ploy, as they may want to do the friendly thing. How cliche. But of course they are accomplished professionals and, well, I'm a professional, but I am not in the mood to discuss anything like the work I do, how cute my children are (I hate that crap), or what anyone else thinks about anything. However, if someone wants to sit around, drink, and tell tasteless and offensive stories with swear-words - that I might go for.
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