Thursday, November 17, 2011

Flypaper

When my sister was in 6th grade she started a new school. Her first day she asked my brother to give her a ride in his 1971 MG so she could "look cool". When we dropped her off, I yelled out the window in my best PeeWee Herman voice: "Goodbye Rachael! Have fun! Don't forget your giant underpants!" She no longer has any interest in "looking cool". I think I taught her a valuable lesson.

Remember in college that girl that would go to all the parties and then sit in the corner and cry and want to talk about her problems and then get roaring drunk and go puke in someone's bedroom? I was never that girl.

Apparently it's not considered "normal" to have your entire family gather 'round the clearance rack at Target and help you pick out new underwear.

Darshan, my pal who works at 7-11, told me I looked tired. I was so relieved. I thought it was my imagination.

Remember that girl in college we talked about? I think I accidentally turned into that girl by mistake last week. My puke was verbal, though. And I wasn't roaring drunk.

My internet went out for several hours yesterday. I had no idea what was happening anywhere except right where I was. It was one of the best things that's happened to me all week.

Once when I was 4, I spent an entire dinner party trying to cross my legs like a lady. When I finally did it, I hollered "Look! I learned how to stack my knees!" I didn't really understand why the grown-ups were laughing. I still think of it that way.

Figure 1
I met the person who is now one of my best friends on this planet at a New Faculty Family Barbecue when we were 15. She later told me she was very intimidated by me that night. "I thought you were going to eat me." I sometimes have that effect on people. There is no explanation for this phenomenon. [See Fig. 1]

It is nigh unto impossible to explain my husband's and my inside jokes in any way that other people think are funny. The best I get are puzzled stares. I find this comforting.

Sometimes as a tiny act of rebellion, I don't bring my own bags to the grocery store. I immediately feel guilty afterward and go home and scrub my recyclables.

One of my recurring dreamscapes is a gigantic shopping mall. Invariably, there's a secret staircase to a secret floor where you can get amazingly discounted ball gowns. What varies is whether or not I'm allowed access.

I dated a guy once who said I shouldn't say things like "nigh unto impossible" because no one really talked like that. He didn't ask me to marry him. He didn't even acknowledge that we were dating. I was obsessed with him for months

My husband describes his Junior High self as "that kid with thick glasses and dandruff". He and his friends sat outside for lunch. They called themselves "The Popular Table".

Some people throw bird seed at their weddings, some blow bubbles or release butterflies. At my wedding, as we were leaving for our honeymoon, my entire family stood on the grand staircase of the country club and shouted in their best PeeWee Herman voices: "Goodbye Suzanne! Have fun! Don't forget your giant underpants!"





7 comments:

  1. *chuckle* Good one! I love the circularity (OMG! That's a word!) of this post.

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  2. "Don't hate me because I'm abnormal..." Whatever happened to her?

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  3. Your family sounds like a riot.

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  4. I want to come to Thanksgiving with *your* family!

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  5. Wow. Thanks, everyone. Circularity is a great word. It will probably turn up in a post near you soon. "Abnormal" is a state of mind. As for the fam, we're an odd lot. If nothing else, I'm pretty much immune to embarrassment now. Thanks for reading folks. I'd love to reply individually, but I don't know how to work my own blog.

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  6. :-) I finally installed IntenseDebate comments on my blog so I could reply individually. Check out www.intensedebate.com - plenty of instructions.

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  7. Ooh! Thank you, I just might do that.

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