insanity at

i’m looking for a comfy shirt

Curious about yoga? Try some out right now. Go ahead, I won’t watch.

So today a very strange muscle is sore on my body. It’s the muscle just under my butt, and the top of my thigh. On both sides. It feels like my thighs are shrinking when I walk. I suppose that’s a good thing, right? But boy does it feel strange to walk down the hallway.

I got home from rehearsal last night and ate the chinese food that Eric had brought home and then promptly fell into a mini coma on the couch. I remember Eric waking me up to come to bed and then the next thing I knew it was this morning. I kept apologizing to Eric for being a poop-out last night. He said he got some reading done. I don’t know why I passed out like that. I guess I’ve been kind of busy this week. I was at the festival, and I’ve been editing scripts to send out to various playhouses, plus getting those scripts bound. I have been working on other freelance pieces for other online magazines. I have been rehearsing our new show, rehearsing for the other show, planning my next show, as well as writing the basic outline of the show we are doing now. I’ve been doing four shows a week at the club, and running our rehearsals during the week. Last week I was in a training class and I only had one day off before I was back at work. So, yeah, I guess I’m tired. But like Eric said to me the other day, “You know, we seem so busy all the time, but I wouldn’t really have it any other way.”

I feel better when I’m busy. But I really like having room to breathe. I’ll breathe April 11th, when the comedy festival is over.

I have made the first step towards internet independence. You can now reach this page with

How exciting is that? It just goes to the geocities page, but until I have a bit more cash and time to find a great provider, that’s where I’m gonna have to keep stuff for now. With it comes a new e-mail address for me. This is all so exciting.

For those of you wondering, was already taken. Bummer, I know. But, for your links pages and for those of you who were still using the /Wellesley/Garden/2213 and getting watermarks and all that crap, you can now just use

I do it for you. All for you. “Look at me, Damian! It’s all for you!”

Whatever, it’s so that I can stop saying the dreaded “slash tilde” when I give my web address. That’s when you see people’s eyes glaze over.

I’m wearing this shirt that I bought at American Eagle Outfitter last Saturday. It’s a faded grey shirt and it has a “21” on it, and “Field Hockey Championship” something or other down the side of one sleeve. I like it because it doesn’t say “American Eagle” anywhere, when usually Old Navy or the Gap just can’t keep their names off things. Anyway, I was wearing it last Saturday night when someone pointed out that there’s a hole in the shirt in the armpit. I was bummed.

“Well, it looks like it’s about time for that shirt to get a hole,” my friend said to me.

“No, it’s brand new,” I pouted.

“That shirt is new? It isn’t Eric’s from like, the fifth grade?”

And I looked down and noticed that it did look ancient.

“How much did you pay for that?” she asked.

I declined to answer.

And I look at it now and I think, “I probably could have gotten the same thing at Goodwill for a quarter.” I was wooed by the words, “Field Hockey” and the magical number of “21.” The number that signifies “just old enough.” But really I paid fifteen bucks for a shirt that looked like it was about to fall apart and then as soon as I put it on, it did.

Although there’s nothing better than a shirt that’s well worn in by a boy, I don’t really have that luxury. You should see what Eric’s well-worn shirts look like. He has a shirt that says, “This is not a Fugazi shirt” and when I put it on and see my nipples poke through the holes in the front I can’t help but think, “This is not a legal shirt.” He has one Steelers shirt that is oh-so-comfy and I wear it when I can, but it seems to be always in the wash. He has a shirt from a theatre company he was once in that has so many holes around the sides and front it looks like he narrowly escaped Freddy’s wrath in it. He has done the same thing to shirts that I’ve had from my old boyfriend. They used to be comfy soft shirts and now they look like they were washed with a cheese grater. He says those aren’t really my shirts, anyway, since they are his “spoils of war.” But I really liked those shirts.

He has a Vassar sweatshirt which by his earlier definition should really be my spoil of war, but since it now resembles less of an article of clothing and more of a blankie that is wrapped around his chest and arms, he’s welcome to the damn thing. You can barely read “Vassar” on it through the mustard stains.

He has a series of Nike shirts that all look like they are still dripping with sweat.

The rest are oxfords, or shirts that are too new to steal, covet and sleep in. That’s why I have so many pairs of pajamas, I guess. I did find a pair of his jeans that I found very comfortable, but by the time I found that I liked them, he had already worn a hole in the knee. Now I can’t wear them without looking like I’m on my way to a Pearl Jam concert.

It’s not fair. All the other girls get to steal their boyfriend’s clothes. I wear his socks. That’s the closest I come to sharing clothes. And all I ever stole of my dad’s was his socks, so I guess I shouldn’t feel like I should get more, but… oh, and I wear a coat of his all the time. Sometimes I wear his sweaters. He has two grey sweaters that I like a lot. I bought them, of course I like them a lot.

I hate that Vassar sweatshirt. He dated a smart girl. He sports it on his chest.

No one knows that it’s Smart Girl’s sweatshirt, but I know. Deep down, I know. My only comfort is that I saw Smart Girl get married last year, so I know that she couldn’t possibly woo him back with postulates and theorems.

I just want some boyfriend comfort clothing, is that so wrong? I’ll just have to break in one of his shirts on my own… hmm… that Doc Martins shirt should do nicely….

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