tuesday blues

Last night Taylor had a crazy hairball that kept him throwing up every fifteen minutes. As soon as I’d fall back asleep he’d be hacking and wheezing. He only throws up on clothing. He’ll move around until he’s found something new to throw up on. Eventually , after petting him for fifteen minutes, I got up and found his hairball medicine. I held it out in front of him and squeezed some from the tube. He was like, “HIIH! HIIH! HIIH!! HI- sniff, sniff, sniff… mmm.” and then he just ate the whole thing.

Eric goes, “Man, when I’m that violently ill, the last thing I want to do is eat salmon flavored paste.”

So I’m sleepy today.

I’m feeling overwhelmed.

We can recap all that’s going on, if you’ve missed everything, but I don’t really want to look at it all again. Last night another thing got added to the mix;

A family member is ill.

I want to just put it out of my head for a few minutes and go on and do something funny or something, but I just feel really down. This is hard on my family. And no one in my family is near me right now… they are all in different cities, different states, or some of them aren’t in touch with me at all.

I feel like my hands are tied.

So, I should just submerge myself in my work, right? But not my day job, that’s sort of depressing… so I submerge myself in the show, but that’s taking an ugly life of its own…

I just want a bit of control, you know?

Okay.. happy story, let’s think of a happy story…

Okay, we’re going to start over:

swapping stories with the boys

have you ever touched it?

Last Friday before the show a few of us were standing around talking about our first semi-sexual experiences. You know, the first time you kiss, the first time you feel under a shirt, the first time you see “theirs.” Well, I’m talking with three guys, and they are spilling their stories about teenage angst and boobies and all that stuff, (“I remember I just put my hand under her shirt… and I came right there.”) and they turn to me and say, “So, when was the first time that you saw an actual penis?”

“Uh…”

“You have to think about it?”

“Well…”

“And your dad’s doesn’t count. Dads walk around naked all the time.”

“Okay…”

“Man. She can’t remember. That many?”

“NO!”

“Oh, it’s that guy that we all met yesterday. Her ex-boyfriend from high school. You just don’t want to talk about it because we’ll see him again.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Come on, pamie, just tell us. We told you. Give us a good, embarrassing, ‘Oh, put that thing away!’ story.”

“I’m just remembering that I’ve touched more than I’ve seen. You guys are really good at us not looking at them for a long time. You’re like, pushing our heads down going, ‘CLOSE YOUR EYES! CLOSE YOUR EYES!’”

“That’s true. That’s very true.”

“The thing is, it’s just not that big of a deal for us.”

“WHAT?”

“It’s not this rite of passage like it is for you guys. It’s not all built up…except for that scene in Sixteen Candles, we were never led to believe that it was this really cool thing to ‘touch it’. You guys had every teen film telling you that once you got a girl’s shirt off, you were the shit.”

“I guess that’s true. Man, that’s depressing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, forget it. Man. So, she probably doesn’t even remember?”

“No, I remember. I just wasn’t so excited about it that I had an orgasm or anything. It just happened. Girls remember kissing, and touching and stuff, but it’s the places and the people that we remember more than the body parts.”

“So, if I showed you my dick you’d remember that I showed you my dick in the hall and not what it looked like?”

“Probably.”

“That could be a good thing.”

“I know.”

Sometimes I really enjoy being one of the boys.