Bits & Pieces

Because none of the topics below merit their own post, I present to you bits and pieces of my fabulously exciting life. (I can hardly stand the suspense either - have you fastened your seatbelts?) Then again, with my ability to ramble on endlessly about absolutely nothing, who knows? I might get ten or eleven posts out of this.

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I missed Gilmore Girls tonight. Did I really miss anything?

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Should I be worried that lately people at school have been saying to me, “We’re worried about you”? At first I was touched, but then I decided it’s sort of like when you walk into a room and somebody says, “Oh wow – are you sick as a dog or what?” and the answer is no. Or, if you want to make a person really squirm, the answer is, “As a matter of fact, I’m the picture of health. Why do you ask?” And then the person has to say, “Uh, no reason.” Or, “You’re just – um – a little pale or something. Maybe it’s the lighting.”

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One of the good things about having a very sensitive “vex-reflex” (hey, that rhymes! Look at me! I can rhyme and I have the attention span of a gnat!) is that I am also easily delighted and amused. Tonight I went to a brand-spanking-new Target. And they had a Starbucks. INSIDE. I marched right up and got myself a non-fat gingerbread latte. Then, I kept looking for signs reading, “Please enjoy your beverage before shopping and grabbing toiletries, etc., etc.” But I didn’t see any. When my latte came up, I asked the barista, “Can I drink this while I shop????!” She looked at me like I was insane. “Yeah.” What more was there to say? “Really?!” I can always find more to say. “Yeah, really.” “Oh, wow,” I said. “Thank you!” I know she wasn’t sure why I was thanking her. And then I shopped and drank my gingerbread latte at the SAME. TIME. It was all I could do to not call my friends and say, “You’re never going to guess what I’m doing right now. I’m walking through Target buying shampoo and new mittens and I’m drinking a piping hot Gingerbread Latte!” I was very excited and throughout the whole shopping trip, I just kept marveling to myself, “I’m shopping AND drinking Starbucks at the same freakin’ time. What will they think of next!?” See? I’ll be thrilled about this for the next 3 days, at least.

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Somebody - anybody - everybody, please tell me that Victoria's Secret bras fit strangely. Otherwise, I may have to look into very expensive surgery. I don't care if you're a man who happens to be a drag queen. Just tell me they suck.

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I always said I wouldn’t be one of those bloggers who posts about their dreams, because honestly, unless you’re a psychoanalyst, who the hell cares? And now I’m eating my blogging code of ethics because I have a recurring nightmare that the stupid dream websites don’t interpret to my satisfaction. Read: I don’t like the interpretation – and I don’t think it’s relevant, so maybe you can help me. Here it is (Remember, I did say details from my fascinating life!): I wake up (in my dream) and start spitting out my teeth. VERY disturbing because, 1.) I like my teeth where they are, and 2.) Spitting teeth is disturbing. I manage to grab a Ziploc bag which happens to be right near by. (We do not keep Ziploc bags in our bedroom – I wanted to make that perfectly clear.) I then spit what is left of my teeth into the Ziploc bag and now they’re not even teeth – they’re like broken pieces of teeth and I just keep spitting and the pieces keep getting smaller and smaller until they’re basically just finely ground gravel. I then take my Ziploc bag of teeth to the dentist and present it to him, like he’s actually going to do something with it – you know, “You’re the dentist – you can fix anything – just work your magic and make these back into teeth and let’s get ‘em where they belong.” And he looks at me like I’m crazy and tells me that basically I’ve given him a bag of gravel and he can’t help me. Then I feel complete deep and utter horror and helplessness. I’ve lost my teeth. I have truly done something that is irreversible. I can’t “unring that bell.” That’s actually the worst part of the dream – something went wrong and there is no way to fix it. The stupid dream websites talk about “needing to be heard” or in some cases teeth represent financial stuff (huh?) and the dream means you’re worried about financial security. I never had this dream until I started living alone, just after I broke up with my first post-divorce boyfriend (when I was around 30). All through the dating fiascoes I had it repeatedly and although it’s decreased in frequency, I still have it about once a month. (Hmm . . . can dreams be “hormonally driven”? I mean, other than pregnancy dreams?). If you’re still reading, I want to know if 1.) You have this dream and 2.) What you think it means.

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I have stopped believing in the theory of natural selection. An OB/GYN told me that a young woman came to her who has having problems with the patch – her method of birth control – like breakthrough bleeding and a few other symptoms that weren’t resolving themselves with time. The doctor examined the young woman and found that she had cut her patch into the shape of a Playboy Bunny. This is a person whose birth control is going to fail. THESE are the people who should be procreating!? If you buy into the whole “survival of the fittest,” how the hell do you explain this!?