Category Archives: Whatever Wednesday

Whatever Wednesday: Blank

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There are words in my head. Lots of words. Thousands.

They dance about on tables crafted from the finest membranes in the world, flashing through the dark lit only by firing neurons. Clothed in slinky new dresses they sway the night away as they swallow copious amounts of tequila, wine, and vodka.

Then they stumble home, dark circles beneath their eyes, smeared mascara, broken heels, and the facade of happiness floats away as they climb wearily to their lofts in lower Manhattan, desperate to collapse onto feather laden beds. Covered with silky comforters, they sleep until the following evening when they arise, slip into even slinkier dresses and creep out to even swankier clubs in order to dance the night away.

I try to catch them, these words.

They disguise themselves each night in a different mask. Scatter to the wind and hide inside clubs with bouncers larger than the Titanic itself.

So I wait.

Impatiently.

As my words dance the night away, laughing, joking, drinking, as I huddle outside in the hot humid air, parched to the core, unable to reach in and grab an expletive to express my frustration. It’s as if they’re inside some giant claw game and I am forced to spend quarter after quarter yet still come up empty.

I want my words back dammit.

Whatever Wednesday: The weight of Love

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As children, we experience love in it’s purest form. There are no expectations, no complicated over-thinking, no what if this or what if that, no he said, no she said. No scars or hurt to mar the existence of this love. Love just is. It’s light, airy, free, full of joy and happiness.

Then we become teenagers. At first, love is still like it was when we were children. And then.

Oh and then.

Then someone we love, for the first time, does not love us back. Or does something to hurt us. Or pushes us far away after saying they loved us. Or uses love to get us to do something they want. Suddenly, love finds itself with a weight attached to it. It may still float but instead of a cloud high in the sky, it’s a helium balloon with a weight tied to the string. The balloon wants to fly away but can’t escape the weight holding to down.

The weight holding you down can crush your chest, your soul, your mind. But recovery is possible. The hurt fades with time and the heart heals.

Then we fall in love time and again. Eventually the balloon you’re holding ends up with tangles, a ton of weights, and is an impossible conundrum. Try as you might, you just can’t untangle the string or break the weights free from the string.

The weight of love continues to increase and can drag us down with it if we are not careful.

But then, some of us are fortunate to meet someone amazing. Someone who helps us untangle the string. Who helps us remove the weights from the string.

So once again, our balloon flies high. Maybe even higher than it ever has in the past.

If we are really lucky, we find someone who allows our love to return to the love we knew as a child, someone who sets us free and allows us to float up into the sky like a white and fluffy cloud, happy and free to be ourselves. Someone who lets us just be and loves us for us despite all our inherent flaws and imperfections. A love which takes your breath away, fills you with anticipation, joy, freedom and is ultimately beyond description. It just is. It’s deep, breathtaking, enviable, and beyond containment.

This is the love we spend our lives chasing but only a few of us are fortunate to capture.

If you’ve found love like that, don’t let it go. No matter what.

For Sale: One jeweled box, cheap

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This week’s Red Dress post involved an assignment in which we had to write a Craigslist ad for something an ex had left behind. This is my submission.

For Sale:

A bejeweled box left behind by an ungrateful and anxiety ridden house guest.

Dating back to the 18th century, this box is pure silver. At first, the silver had a horrible tint to it and was covered by a dark grunge. The jewels, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, all lay hidden beneath the same coating of scum. A quick swipe with silver cleaner shined the box right up. So much so that I felt comfortable opening the box.

Opening the box is quite simple. All you have to do is drop it and it pops open. Closing it, however, is a whole different story. In order to close the box, you have to complete a puzzle on each of the four sides and then finally complete a rather complicated puzzle in order to seal the box tight. It can also be costly because if one of the puzzles won’t close, you have to purchase an entirely new box along with a cheat set of keys. Even then you’re not guaranteed to be able to close the box.

I finally opened the box.

This box appears to be completely empty.

So why the hell am I here?

Rest assured this bedazzled box was once filled with horrid things like beating yourself up for your chosen type of motherhood, your decision to have children, your need for bonding in your relationship. Also in this box is a black veil. Even when you wear it out in public, you’re painfully aware of every stare, every whispered word, every single second of ever single day. Every step in front of others is excruciating. Why not just brand you with the letters P P D and get it over with??

If you manage to get the box closed without it affecting you, chances are you may drop it again. When you do, make sure you have others to help you close the frustrating little bastard.

For the bargain price of just $0.50, this box can be yours. I make no guarantees nor promises regarding the satisfaction or functionability of this box. No instructions will be sold with this box as no instructions came with this box. I’ll be available for support or chat if you need it after purchasing the box. No one should own this box alone.

Please do not purchase for children, infants, elderly people, new moms and husbands. Also do not purchase for gifts. In fact, unless you really reallllly don’t like them, and even then, don’t purchase this. I know, I know, what kind of salesman tells someone NOT to buy something? This one. This box is one twisted puppy.

To be purchased for your own personal use only, either as display or to destroy. We recommend burial instead of burning. Say prayers over this box before you get up .

Must sell QUICKLY. As in yesterday.

It is not okay to contact poster about any other issue here. I’ll only be talking about this evil, horrible trinket in hand.

Purchase with caution.

Whatever Wednesday: Avoiding the Valentinitis Epidemic

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There’s a holiday this month. Several, actually, including a few you probably aren’t familiar with.. for instance, tomorrow is The Day the Music Died day. It marks the anniversary of the plane crash which killed Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, and the Big Bopper. The 4th is Thank a Mailman day. For those of you who SEE your mailman (ours is a stealthy Ninja trained by Bruce Lee himself), be sure to thank him/her for the awesome job they do of regaling your mailbox with bills, junkmail, and the occasional awesomeness. The 9th of February is Toothache Day. Yeah, I don’t wanna know either. The 5th is National Weatherman’s Day. You’re supposed to be kind and thank them. I think many of you have a very different idea of how to celebrate that day given the massive blizzard affecting so many Americans right now. The 6th is Lame Duck day, a day many Weathermen may find themselves celebrating after this current whopper of a storm. Be kind. They’re just the messengers.

But there’s another holiday this month, on the 14th. It’s Clean out your Computer Day, right? Or.. is it Ferris Wheel Day? Or maybe even Organ Donor Day? Cuz I mean, you’d totally get flowers and candy for donating an organ, right? And a card. A cheesy stupid card with a cartoon mouse wishing you all the best as you nursed yourself back to health.

Oh, wait. It’s … it’s… V…. Vale… ergh.. Valen… taking a DEEP Breath. It’s VALENTINE’S Day.

With Valentine’s Day, there are two camps. You love the day or you hate the day. I’m in the latter. And it’s not because I am single and have no one to celebrate with. No, I’m married.

Yes, guys, I’m a married woman who DOES NOT REQUIRE NOR EXPECT her husband to get her anything on Valentine’s Day. In fact, I’d be upset if he DID get me something for the 14th of February.

Valentine’s Day as it stands today is a complete and total farce.

It started way back in the day with Saints now recognized by the Catholic Church. All of these Saints were martyred.

Then we move forward into Roman times when Luperci was celebrated. Priests took an animal to sacrifice, typically a goat. The goat was sacrificed, cut into strips, dipped in blood, and then they went out into the streets to smack women and crops with said strips. Back then, it was an honor to be smacked by the bloody goat strips as it was believed to increase your fertility for the following year. These days? I believe smacking someone with a bloody goat strip would get you knocked the eff out.

The Romans had another interesting tradition. They placed the names of unwed women into an urn and the men would choose names. Often these matches would result in marriage.

Mass produced cards did not start until the end of the 18th century.

And that is when Valentine’s went to hell.

Ladies – do you know that WE, WE, NOT MEN, account for 85% of all Valentine’s purchases?

What the hell, ladies? If you’re GOING to celebrate it, at least equalize that number a smidge.

I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Why?

Because if my husband only tells me once a year how much he loves me, we need counseling. Everyday is my Valentine’s Day. Not the day Hallmark decides should be Valentine’s. Not the day that history has decided to set aside for us.

Why should February the 14th be any different than February the 13th or February the 15th?

My birthday is special because well, it’s the day I was born.

Christmas is special because it’s an integral part of my faith. (I also have very non-commercial views about Christmas too.)

The Fourth of July is special because it’s when we celebrate our country’s independence – even though the date itself is not when Congress actually adopted the Declaration of Independence (that’s the 2nd).

Valentine’s is a crock of hooey.

I don’t love my husband anymore on the 14th than I do on the 15th or the 13th.

Wanna know what holiday in February I will be celebrating this year?

Hoodie Hoo Day.

Yes. It’s real. It’s copyrighted. It’s completely fictitious. But it’s about fun. And goofiness.

I LOVE me some fun and goofiness.

So on February the 20th, I’ll be outside, waving my hands over my head, screaming Hoodie Hoo at the top of my lungs.

And then I’m going back inside to eat some Cherry Pie for Cherry Pie Day cuz that’s how I roll.

How about you?

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Whatever Wednesday: Happy Birthday, Dad!

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Dearest Dad,

Today’s your birthday. You’re officially well, another year older.

We discussed several things to get you.

Finally settled on a dancing and singing Gorilla.

But guess what?

They are greedy bastards.

The one we found required several thousand tons of bananas.

And wanted a massage every day.

Don’t even get me started on the Mai Tai requirements of this banana munching, massage needing big baby.

SO.

Given that we clearly were not able to meet said Gorilla’s requirements, we did the next best thing.

We borrowed Roger’s.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

We love you and wish you many more years.

Including at least one with your very own Singing Gorilla Birthday Telegram.

Love,

Us

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