...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Monday, November 17, 2008

'you know, i'm getting input here that i'm reading as relatively hostile'

Wow! I planned to respond to each of you who very kindly extended birthday greetings to me in the post below, but apparently, the Internet is filled with very nice people (and one really lame dude, but blech...I mean bygones...), which probably explains why I sometimes have a hard time keeping a connection in the morning. As a result, please accept this as my thanks to all of you who commented, sent emails, or tweeted your good wishes to me. Each one was truly appreciated.

You're probably wondering how my birthday was. If I could sum it up in one word, that word would be "meh," which is the theme my family chose to recognize this one day of the year. The following is a list - in no particular order - of those who wished me a happy birthday before anyone in my family did, including my two children who, if I recall correctly, I gave life to on what I believe could be called a 'birth day':
  • My insurance agent
  • Dairy Queen
  • Macaroni Grill
  • Cold Stone Creamery
  • my state's lottery office
  • a former boyfriend
  • a college friend
  • all of you
  • my dentist

What's funny - to me, at least - is I don't eat out that much, nor do I play the state lottery, so their well wishes were quite special to me. So was the birthday greeting from my dentist, which arrived via text message. With a smiley face emoticon. Awesome!

By noon Saturday, I expected to arrive home to find Jake Ryan perched atop my kitchen table, leaning over a flaming birthday cake, and encouraging me to make a wish. By 7 p.m., it was clear there wasn't going to be a birthday cake. Instead, my Tool Man made a hasty retreat (a strategic move for someone seeking safe harbour)(hold up! harbour? did I just totally turn Canadian there for a second? awesome!) and returned 45 minutes later with a tray of store-bought brownies. FYI? They didn't taste that great. In fact, they tasted a little bitter.

And I realize I, too, perhaps taste a little bitter after this experience. It's because of that I hesitate telling you that I spent a huge chunk of the weekend not talking to Tool Man. "Are you a baby or are you 41?" you might be muttering. Sadly, I can totally act like a baby sometimes. Sometimes. Not often. Because I know it's lame.

Besides, Tool Man had the nerve to trick me into talking him when I got home last night from a coffee date with a friend by asking me if I had a good time, and dammit! I totally answered him!

And then I may or may not have had one of those awful leftover store-bought brownies.

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It's at this point in the week where I normally would have a totally new post, but I'm trying out this new thing where I go to bed before the next day kicks in and try to read these new-fangled things I hear they're calling "books." For the most part, this plan would be totally awesome were it not for the fact my body is saying it, too, wants to try something out and thus wakes up at 4 a.m. - always 4 a.m. - every morning. Then, for the next couple hours, my body and my mind lay together in bed in an unholy union and then my mind wanders all over the place and my body is all, "Oh, yeah? Well, check this out! My head is killing me and wow! You should have told her to take me to the doctor immediately after we fell down the stairs a few months ago, because seriously? I fear she's going to take a hatchet to her right leg soon if we don't get this crippling problem fixed."

And then maybe one of the kids gets up to puke, or Tool Man saws down a couple big trees and tosses the limbs on the fire that is his personal body furnace, and really all I end up with in my goal of going to bed earlier to wake up a nicer, well-rested, more refreshed version of me is exactly that. But bitchier.

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So...well...if my Mom read my blog ("What's a blog? Something where you tell intimate details of your life to strangers? On the Internet? Why would you do that? I didn't raise you to talk about your sex life on the computer!"), it would be at this point where she'd say, "Well. Aren't you little Miss Princess Sunshine today!" and then I would scowl at her and she'd ask me why I was so grumpy, and I'd be, "Duh! Didn't you just read my blog?!", and then I'd storm off, down a couple aspirins, take a shower and get ready for yet another exciting day making book recommendations to people who have no idea what they like to read (which is another reason why I'm trying to dig through more books). Because this has been nothing but a bitchy post, I apologize. I'll do better next time. Truly, all of you out there in the Internet (except that one lame dude) are totally amazing, and once again, I thank you. I'll catch up with you soon. Perhaps around 4 a.m.

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