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Just hang with me for a sec. I got a few things.
I can't write any more. I've completely lost it. Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah writers' block blah blah blah no inspiration, blah blah. No, it's not that. I just don't want to. I'm just pissed and irritated and hyper-critical and about as productive as Sarah Palin at the U.N. I have a pretty good start and something I like, but the thought of writing from point A to point B makes my brain go..... Just like that. That's what my brain does. I'm living in the space between the words right now. And they're angry crackling spaces.
I hate that Burger King commercial with the two Renaissance Fair guys singing to the ugly 70's guy. I hate it. It makes me angry, it's so repulsive.
I'm tired of submitting work and not hearing for more than 5 months. After that long, you gotta throw me a bone or something. Or a boner. Throw me a boner! That's better than a form letter and a "Sorry for the delay." I'd rather get a boner in the mail.
Madeleine's first grade teacher sucks. There. I said it. Madeleine dropped her head-band on the way out of class yesterday, and when I went back to retrieve it, Mrs. I said, "Oh yeah, I found it." She went back to her desk, reached down and pulled it out of the garbage and handed it to me.
In addition, Madeleine's new best buddy is a twin. He and his brother are not identical and are very different. Yet today, when I went in to help, after two months of teaching both these boys, Mrs. I still has to go back to their desks to read which is which before picking out one of them to do a project with me. The boys are half Filipino, and last week, instead of picking one of the twins, she grabbed an extremely tall Native American kid in the class, and only after he said, "I'm not Ricky," did she realize she had the wrong child.
Dude. She's not good. And her class smells like cheap candles, and the windows are open all the time, because, as she tells me often, she has frequent hot flashes. Dude. It's like 22 fucking degrees outside!
Also? This guy I went to high school with who friended me on Facebook is a serious asswipe. That's all the space he deserves. Can I un-friend him? He's probably everything I dislike in the male gender. And I think he whitens his teeth.
More? Okay.
Red wine is making me not sleep at night and have perverted dreams about inappropriate people. I'm constantly walking around tired and freaked out by what I did last night with the 80-year-old crossing guard.
How many times is it acceptable to ask one's spouse to not use my towel/toothpaste/deodorant/drink all the fizzy water? I have hiding spots for each of these. I feel like every day is an exercise in espionage as I eat breakfast and clean myself.
Why is my hair still falling out in spurts and shoots? The dog and I are battling to see who can carpet the dining room the fastest. He's got a slight advantage on volume, but I'm making it shag, baby.
Inhale, exhale, vote.
I hate that Burger King commercial with the two Renaissance Fair guys singing to the ugly 70's guy. I hate it. It makes me angry, it's so repulsive.
I'm tired of submitting work and not hearing for more than 5 months. After that long, you gotta throw me a bone or something. Or a boner. Throw me a boner! That's better than a form letter and a "Sorry for the delay." I'd rather get a boner in the mail.
Madeleine's first grade teacher sucks. There. I said it. Madeleine dropped her head-band on the way out of class yesterday, and when I went back to retrieve it, Mrs. I said, "Oh yeah, I found it." She went back to her desk, reached down and pulled it out of the garbage and handed it to me.
In addition, Madeleine's new best buddy is a twin. He and his brother are not identical and are very different. Yet today, when I went in to help, after two months of teaching both these boys, Mrs. I still has to go back to their desks to read which is which before picking out one of them to do a project with me. The boys are half Filipino, and last week, instead of picking one of the twins, she grabbed an extremely tall Native American kid in the class, and only after he said, "I'm not Ricky," did she realize she had the wrong child.
Dude. She's not good. And her class smells like cheap candles, and the windows are open all the time, because, as she tells me often, she has frequent hot flashes. Dude. It's like 22 fucking degrees outside!
Also? This guy I went to high school with who friended me on Facebook is a serious asswipe. That's all the space he deserves. Can I un-friend him? He's probably everything I dislike in the male gender. And I think he whitens his teeth.
More? Okay.
Red wine is making me not sleep at night and have perverted dreams about inappropriate people. I'm constantly walking around tired and freaked out by what I did last night with the 80-year-old crossing guard.
How many times is it acceptable to ask one's spouse to not use my towel/toothpaste/deodorant/drink all the fizzy water? I have hiding spots for each of these. I feel like every day is an exercise in espionage as I eat breakfast and clean myself.
Why is my hair still falling out in spurts and shoots? The dog and I are battling to see who can carpet the dining room the fastest. He's got a slight advantage on volume, but I'm making it shag, baby.
Inhale, exhale, vote.
posted by Mignon at 10:34 AM
1. The Burger King plastic-faced king character totally gives me the willies. I think it's OK that I don't know the commercial you're talking about, because I don't need any more issues with BK ads.
2. That teacher sounds like a mean, careless, thoughtless bigot. She'll probably retire soon. Hopefully before Quinn reaches first grade.
3. It's 72 degrees in Chicago. Yes, snow is coming in a few days, but for now, it's September. I am delighted for the lucky bastards with tix for the Obama rally, because it's perfect weather for standing outside for hours and hours.
4. Unfriend him. Now.
5. Try drinking the wine earlier in the day.
6. Send the husband to me for an ass-kicking. You give up enough of your personal space to your children. He needs to let you have these small things that you're asking for. (And if you could reinforce the message to my husband that he shouldn't eat my food, it'll be an even trade.)
7. I got nothin' on the hair thing.
8. Go, Obama! I hope I hope I hope.
I have my own secret stash of toilet paper and live in perpetual fear that it will be discovered and raided.
This teacher sounds awful. Can you change classes? Revolt?
Definitely unfriend the asshole. No guilt.
Would you like some writing advice from another frustrated would-be writer? No? Too bad.
So don't think about writing from point A to point B. Just write about point A. Or point Z. Turn one of those dreams into a zany post we can all laugh at and respond to with outrageous comments.
You could do what I do concerning those five-month-late rejections: don't even submit.
put Ben Gay in a decoy toothpaste tube.
unfriend him. Ick.
that teacher, i hope you are complaining to the administration. It won't do any good, but you still need to do it.
Re: Facebook dude. I don't think I can unfriend him. It'd be some weird kind of high school thing, so I've just taken him off my notification list. I'm virtually ignoring him.
Re: Bizarro Teacher. I told the twins' mom about the constant mixing up, and she's on it. And conferences are next week, so if I'm not happy, I'm going straight to the big guns right after.
Re: Husband borrowing stuff and hair loss. PMS. Problem solved.
Re: Writing problems. Mamalujo, I know. I KNOW. Just do it, but I don't want to, is the problem. I'm not getting any satisfaction from it. It feels futile and forced. All of it. Even blogging.
I love you. Not like I love Sean, but not like I love Fresca, either.
Granted I'm heavily tranqked right now, but...you are so real to me.
I've known two blogs, TWO, out of maybe 800 I've read that, while written infrequently, simply never suck, because the woman behind them is so present in their writing. and that is You.
Now I'm off to sling an arm around my dog and sing drunken sea shanties.
I hope you get your boner very soon.
Maybe your hair is falling out because your pregnant???
i'm convinced everything these days...has something to do with everyone being pregnant but me.
I could use a boner too...
Hair? Not sleeping? Get your thyroid checked, girlfriend. I'm the Voice of Experience in that regard. Go to an endrocrinologist to get it done, because their window for "normal" is smaller than everyone else's.