Okay, back on the big ol weblog pony. I’ve been thwarted not only by the disaster last week, but also because I’ve been studying non-stop for the GRE. What? You don’t know what the GRE is? Well bless you, and I hope you never find out. But, just in case you’re curious…
The GRE (Graduate Record Exam) is the test one must do well on if you’re enough of an idiot to apply to graduate school which evidently I am. The only problem with it, besides the fact that I’m math-disabled and it has an algebra/geometry section on it, is that it’s all computerized. This means that when you get a question right, it spits out a harder one for you to tackle next. It gets easier if you start fucking up. So if I start to get 2+2=? on the math part, I’ll just excuse myself and slit my wrists in the ladies’ room. Hee hee hee. I’m taking it on the 28th, which sounded really far away when I signed up for it at the beginning of this month. Seriously, why do human beings put themselves under so much stress?
Confession: My worst, anal-rententive Martha Stewart nightmare came true this morning. The real estate agent who sold us the house we live in just “dropped by to see how things were going!” Well, I’ll tell you how they were going. Usually my house is pretty tidy, and I know it’s uncool and unpopular for “independent Grrls” of my generation to even give a rats’ ass about being HOUSEPROUD, but I admit it, I am houseproud. This woman popped in and got a big ol eyeful this morning: two bras slung over the bedpost of a really violently unmade bed (it’s in the living room because our house is so teeny) dishes up to the ceiling, debris all over the living room. Plus I was still in my pajamas and I had to throw on a sweatshirt because I am LAZY and was not wearing a bra, so my out of control boobies were trying to get away as usual. I was also totally convinced that the upper half of my face was beet red because when the real estate agent pulled up I was plucking the hell out of my eyebrows, which had gotten totally out of control in the past month or so. The only thing that wasn’t out for her perusal was some, er, equipment that my paramour and I had been, um, operating late last night. (I mean of course, our floor waxer. I can just hear my Mom, “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” Haw haw!)
Anyway, she came, she saw, and she left. And now she has some fantastic gossip, because she is a distant friend of the family. Sigh.
I called my Mom and whined about it, and she said, “Well, she has a cel phone, and it is rude not to call before dropping by.” Yay Mom! On the positive side, my eyebrows now look fan-fucking-tastic!
A half hour later, I was still not dressed when the mail carrier came to the door, looking official and busy like they always do when they have a package for you. I hid in the bathroom- I just couldn’t face anyone else.
But putting things into perspective, more embarrassing things have happened to me in recent memory. When I was a newlywed, my brand new husband and I used to play all sorts of little fun games together. One night we were laying in bed starkers and reading books, and I was also eating a box of jawbreakers. For his amusement (I always get into the most trouble when I do things for other people’s amusement), I started putting the jawbreakers one by one into my vagina. He laughed a little bit to humor me, and by the time I got up to about 18 or so he started ignoring me and went back to his book. Eventually, I fell asleep and he turned out the light. Suddenly, at about 2 am I woke up. I was uncovered and chilly; a moment later I realized I was also laying in a big wet puddle that seemed to have an epicenter under my ass.
“Oh God, I wet the bed.”
I considered my options- I could get a towel and cover it up; I could wake him up and inform him that his new wife of 4 months was a bedwetter; or I could smother him with a pillow so that no one would ever find out what happened. Being young and idealistic, I woke him and told him the truth, crying, and I have to say he took it very well. I couldn’t believe it was true- I’d NEVER been a bedwetter, and we hadn’t even been drinking or anything. Just before I ripped off the sheets, I caught a whiff of something… sweet. I bent down to smell the huge went spot and it smelled faintly sugary. Then I remembered the jawbreakers. I did a quick check to see if they were still when I deposited them before bed, and sure enough, they had completely dissolved.
The whole thing gave me a new appreciation for my vagina. If it could melt that much candy in four hours, what else could it do? Corrode steel? Turn lead into gold?
GENERALLY speaking, I only put things in it that belong there today.