Confession


I have been smitten with Robert Downey Jr. since middle school. His character on Ally McBeal transitioned my crush to full-on love. I think it’s the eyes. I have weird taste.

I saw my first Burlesque show at a seedy bar in Northeast Minneapolis, less than half a mile from the house I may purchase. It made me like the house that much more.

Discovered something worse than his hand-holding: a sneak attack from behind, with his hands on my shoulders while he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Need another drink?” Seemed indistinctly too coupley and much more difficult to avoid.

Bought new mints flavored as Iced Tea with Lemon. The cashier was so intrigued that I offered her one (as well as the woman behind me in line). Our mutual conclusion: could be worse.

It snowed this weekend. I need to move.

New favorite thing to hate: baby showers. I love babies but an afternoon of collective awwing while eating sugary cake made me puke a little.

Also, still dress-less for my Greece wedding as well as my friend’s sister’s wedding the weekend that I return. Any suggestions?

Yesterday, I was asked if I like my life.

Whoa. The blunt question caught me just off-guard enough that I actually thought about my answer –and thought about it for just a little too long.

Not really.

My life has potential. The pieces show promise for the future. Definitely moving in a responsible and productive and successful direction. But on the whole, at this moment, do I like it? Not really. It’s fine. It definitely could be worse. MUCH worse. Seriously, no complaints here. But then, I don’t really have too many pieces that I would brag about either.

Like chicken for dinner. It’s fine, wise decision, very healthy. But that doesn’t cover up that it’s blah and tasteless. Needs a little something … like salt. Or, a side of steak. Besides, chicken for dinner has always been a little too conforming for my taste; I would rather have cereal or an entire bag of baby carrots.

I go through the motions, each day happens, and then I go to sleep with plans to go through the same motions tomorrow. But I don’t really like it. And that needs to change.

So I was telling my lovely mother about the old people in Arizona and how they would do the oddest things like sit with their complimentary oatmeal and decaf coffee from 7am to 10am and didn’t they know they didn’t need to stay for the entire hotel breakfast? and they would hang out by the pool, in the shade with their white socks pulled high on their skinny varicose-vein-ridden legs, and one old man stripped right in front of us, pool-side, to change from his golf shorts to his swim trunks even though his room was probably courtyard-adjacent and was completely nakes in plain view and CHILDREN were present not to mention ME [and seriously, gross, I barely like to look at it now when it’s not, you know, ready to go, unless the guy is ok with me poking it like a science project and they tend to frown upon that even though I am pretty sure they have the same fascination with boobs which do not look nearly as goofy and yes, I am still seventeen at times] but nevertheless I don’t really want to see it all wrinkly and weathered and saggy and I better have some serious dementia or senility going on by the time I have to see it looking like that again. And in response to my frightful experience, my mom said, “Oh, Mol, you’re going to have to get over it because it gets that way much sooner than you would think.”  And not only hearing that information but hearing it from my mom, given her frame of reference, is wrong on so many levels and I just wish I could get this story out of my head.

1. When bra shopping, I purchased the practical colors: light pink, nude and black. Did not even consider tangerine.

2. My coffee was decaf. Because I was worried about my upcoming bedtime. Soon I will be ordering my beer without alcohol.

3. I am strangely attracted to Dr. Drew on Celebrity Rehab. And I think it’s more than just a reinstatement from my middle-school crush on his LoveLine radio voice. I don’t get it. He’s not badass or a free spirit. He wouldn’t scare my mom. He is EDUCATED. Where’s the fun in that?

When I told my boss that I had a doctor appointment over my lunch hour, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I did have one –well, I used to have one. Until I cancelled it. And when I say a doctor appointment, I really meant the chiropractor who technically IS a doctor, even if his sessions last ten minutes as opposed to the extended appointment length as implied to my boss.

The part about the long drive and his office being close to my house so I might as well spend the afternoon working from home? Yeah, that part was a lie.

But the mall is having its January sales and I wanted to get to it before the weekend crowds. This, I felt, was rational for skipping out on work.  Responsible, no? 

The trip was successful; I am a sucker for clearance sales.

The three tank tops won’t be used for a few months but they will still be cute then OR I could wear them now with a cardigan, and I don’t know if you know this, but cardigans are totally hot at the bar. Yup, dudes dig chicks in sweaters. Also purchased: two suit coats. I don’t wear suits to work, BUT I might need one some day. Someday soon. And then won’t I be happy when I already have cute ones hanging in my closet, purchased for 80% off no less. YES. I also bought two belts. And although I rarely wear belts because it looks ridiculous having that belt bulge with longer shirts and the ones purchased were not the over-the-shirt type, I might need one SOON; what if I am having a pants-falling-off EMERGENCY? Problem solved; I already have them should such a catastrophe arise. It’s called PLANNING AHEAD. I also bought ballet slippers which, ok again, I cannot wear at this EXACT instant because my work pants are too long but I AM planning to get them hemmed. Soon. For the sole purpose of wearing my beautiful new shoes –I even bought two (ok, three, I can’t lie to you, Internet) new pants to be designated as my flat-shoe-wearing pants. The bright-pink satin ones (shoes not pants; I am crazy mentally not fashionably) and I might just be new best friends, and even if they only match black or gray, we will sacrifice color in order to be together because we are that much in love. Now that’s dedication.

I will make up the time away from work on Sunday. It was worth it. I will even put in extra time because of that damn Catholic guilt.  And I didn’t waste the ENTIRE afternoon, just some of it. 

 Now if only I had something new I could wear out tonight …

A friend, who fits into somewhat of an older sister mold, recently returned from backpacking through Europe, and since she didn’t purchase any gifts for friends/family, my souvenir was a handful of currency from Budapest and Prague. Quite practical. Yet, dorkily, still somehow a novelty. Although I am tempted to remove them from the safe-keeping that is the bottom of my purse, I resist the urge when I hear Matt Dillion’s voice in my head:

“Oh cripes. Do you have change for a dollar? All I have is these stupid Nepalese coins.”

And it amuses me. Yes, I know the coins are not from Nepal and yes, I realize the movie is at least ten years old and I should probably updates my pop culture references, but whatever. I find myself amusing enough that it’s totally worth that extra ten minutes to find a quarter.

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