I will admit that it was only recently that I learned what LMFAO stood for. Maybe it’s because I prefer to speak in complete sentences, using actual words. I know it takes a bit longer, especially when texting, but I am not going to abbreviate "in my opinion" with IMO. Because I h8 abbreviations.
I wrote this in honor of Passover AND Cher:
I invited Cher, Baruch Hashem, to my parent’s house last year for Pesach. It had been on my ‘to do’ list for quite some time, but well, you know how it is. Life just seems to get in the way, and shit is put off for yet another day. But I finally moved it to the top of my list.
A five, six, seven, eight:
“now what you hear is not a test--i'm rappin to the beat
and me, the groove, and my friends are gonna try to move your feet
see i am wonder mike and i like to say hello
to the black, to the white, the red, and the brown, the purple and yellow”
I had a dream job many years ago. It was to write on Ellen. I believed that, what is enclosed down below, was a witty and creative way to get that job. I sent this letter to Ellen Degeneres, in 2003, during season one of her show. I decided on a 'six degrees of Ellen' theme, because she loves playing games. For the life of me, I can't imagine why I never received a call back.
I was up early to meet my Pilates client on the upper east side. I hopped on the 6 train, and just for the record, getting on the subway during the morning rush hour is like taking part in the running of the bulls. You can easily get gorged in the behind if you’re not careful.
My dear and faithful readers,
I'm doing research for a book that I'm currently writing about women in my situation. I live with a divorced man with kids, and I don't have any biological children of my own... at least that I'm aware of.
There must be women out there in similar situations. As a friend so eloquently noted, "Stepmom's were Girlfriend Mom's at one point." So true.
I'd like to think that I am a relatively sane person, although "insane" has been bandied about every now and again when describing my behavior. However, in the insane/sane production credits last night, insane definitely got top billing.
It wasn't long ago that I was laying in a fetal position, a big ball of regret, confusion and hopelessness, on the cold (and dusty) kitchen floor of my studio apartment in New York, located at the mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel.
The depression that I have endured since I was a child had come back with a vengeance, testing my strength, resolve and ability to get up off of the floor.
My neighbor recently accosted me outside my house, as I was getting my mail. I say neighbor because I don't actually know her name. I only know her as Mustang Sally because, well, she drives a white Mustang, and I like the song. I've got both my boyfriend and his son singing it every time they see her car in the driveway.
A follow up to my Guess Who's Coming To Dinner post.
I went out to dinner with my boyfriend's daughter a few nights ago. He was in the city working, and I hadn't left the house all day. That's not entirely true. I walked to the beach (a block away- don't hate me- it's still Jersey-ooh, Jersey just took a hit) excited at the prospect of clearing my head and pumping some much needed blood to my ass. I had been sitting at my desk for hours!
