happy valentines day

so for valentine's i went out for vodka, video trivia, and fried pickles.
i love my body. my body does not love me right now.

as i was driving home, i tried to wrap my mind around love. this is always a good idea after three drinks. in a review of the people i have loved (like loved with a capital L) i came to two. these two are buffered on two men i have obsessed over.

like an obsession/love/love/obsession appetizer.
literally.

high school obsession.
college love.
adult love.
adult obsession.

it's kind of like a fried pickle. i mean the greasy outer layer is in no way good for me, but it's so damn enticing. i chase it around the plastic basket, suck it off the pickle and ruin my tongue on how
way
too
hot
it is.

inevitably, the freaky batter screws my stomach up and kills my taste for pickles- which really is the part that i love the most. i mean, i love dill pickles. like a jar at a time love.

and, i love these men. but the obsessions before and after are fucking up my gut.

my last 24 hours

my downstairs neighbor came up at midnight to talk about her faltering relationship.(kind of knew from the noise)

my clutch went out in the middle of 7:45am downtown traffic.

the tow truck guy witnessed to me during the entire car ride to firestone.

my gynocologist called to say i had an abnormal pap smear, and she has to look at my wassa with a microscope.

can i just go back to sleep?

first line i'm working with

i used to think that my father ruined our lives; later i realized we did that just fine on our own.

epiphany 2007

it took a little while.
found it sunday morning during mile 2 on porter road, 37206.

in giving up hope, i gain everything.

that's it.
that's what i learned in 2007.

what a good boy

this first time i heard the term hair shirt, the barenaked ladies were crooning through the speakers of my 1989 diesel suburban. we were in a parking lot in west nashville near our favorite restaurant, stir fry cafe (AKA spicy noods). we worshipped spicy noods and the ensuing gastrointestinal discord.

anyway, a hair shirt was originally a garment or undergarment made of coarse cloth or animal hair (a hair shirt). the word has come to mean an object that can be worn to induce some degree of discomfort or pain.

last night, hair shirt became revised...

email to a friend:
my date last night had his $238 shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest. what am i going to do?

her response:
what? I got your text about the debate (I was at an event). Who is the guy and why can he not dress? Is it the hoodie guy?
Because a big fat I told you so may be coming your way.

email to a friend:
hoodie guy. super virago type. too designer jeans, a scarf, and a pearl buttoned patterned cowboyish shirt with embroidery. and 7 stark chest hairs peeking from the unbuttoned abyss.

her response:
I am speechless. Actually, I am in disbelief that 1) this species is still in existence and 2) wandered out of his habitat to 37206

men are my hair shirts.
i know before i put them on, it's gonna be itchy and uncomfortable.