I am blogging at you on Wednesday night because I have to be at the headache clinic at 7:30 a.m. on Thursday.
That sounds like a hoot, doesn't it?
I get to get my blood drawn so they can make sure this trial drug they have me on is not killing me. Oh, it's a PLACEEEEEBO, I'm telling you. I totally totally got the placebo. I am being paid to take sugar pills for six months. Fine.
Plus, why do I have to go there to get my blood drawn? Can't they just get out a red crayon?
Anyway, the only thing I have to tell you is I am tired from all the work I am doing, plus the part where my dog does not care that I am working two jobs, so the minute I got home tonight she started saying, "MMMM!" followed up by "MMMMM!" and I understand you do not speak Tallulah, but that means, "Marvin is at band practice and if you do not take me on a walk I will be a pain in your arse all night. Mostly because of the part where I will keep going, 'MMMM!'"
So even though I had 40-inch espadrilles on, we went. I know I could have changed clothes but I wasn't in the mood. I looked like Nancy Regan out there, tottering on my heels. Plus there was the part where I was eating my Cobb salad.
Does everyone know that Nancy Regan always orders a Cobb salad, or is that just a thing I know, like how I know Barry Gibb's 40th wedding anniversary is just around the corner? (It's September 1, if you wanted to get a card in the mail.)
But speaking of things no one should remember, here is what I logged on to tell you today.
Do you like Facebook? Because I just loves it. It is just the perfect venue for me. I have no desire to leave the people in my past in my past. I like 'em all hanging around right here in my present: the girl I was in fifth-grade cheerleading with, my old boyfriend who I dumped for Marvin in 1996, my coworker who never really liked me all that much anyway, my 10th-grade sociology teacher. I love having them all in one place and forcing them to listen to my pithicisms. Pithicisms is totally a word.
So, the other day I got a friend request from a guy I had gone to junior high school with. With whom I had gone to junior high school. Whatever. Get a life.
And let's pause for a moment and discuss. The prettiness. That was me in junior high school. Imagine sort of an unsexy really skinny Don Knotts. With giant hair.
My mother used to tell me that boys were intimidated by my beauty, and that's why they weren't approaching me.
Anyway. For some reason the way our school system worked, they kept us in junior high for 7th, 8th, and 9th grades, and by 9th grade I was slightly less hideous. Picture Jimmy Page wearing tight jeans and Candies.
God, Candies were the bomb. I want every color ALL OVER AGAIN. Look at her hose peeping out at the top of the picture.
At the end of 9th grade, they sent us on a class trip to Cedar Point, which is a big amusement park a few hours away. This guy who just friend requested me on Facebook (we'll call him Ted) sat with me on the bus, and we may have slightly made out on the way home.
And…that was it. Pretty soon it was summer vacation, I got my first real boyfriend Kevin, and Ted went to a different high school. So, like, we had one torrid night on a bus in 1979.
So this guy friend requests me, and we start reminiscing about junior high, and classes we had, and a play we had been in (they did The Elephant Man, and I was the star. I needed no makeup). Finally, he says, "Did we make out on the bus ride home from Cedar Point?"
Here is the problem. And if you know me in real life you know this. I HAVE A MEMORY LIKE AN ELEPHANT. LIKE THE ELEPHANT MAN. I.REMEMBER.EVERYTHING. Plus, I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!
So he's asking didn't we make out on the way back from Cedar Point, and I remember every last detail about that day. I remember what I was wearing. (Really? Okay. Yellow shorts. Yes, yellow. Adidas tennis shoes. A white Tshirt with magenta and yellow horizontal stripes. And in case it got cold? Are you ready? My black satin jacket that read "20th Century Fox" on the back in silver glitter. Honest to God. No, I was not Tammy Wynette.) I remember where we sat on the bus. I remember who sat in front of us (Jeannie and Lori).
And if I TELL him all that, he is going to think I have never had any other man come near me since 1979. And if you were around for those trampy college years, you certainly know THAT'S not true.
Anyway, my dilemma is, do I act vague? "Hmmmmm. Yeah, maybe we made out. Wait. Did I even go to Cedar Point?" or do I just tell everything and look like Miss Havisham? Do I show him my "Ted forever" tattoo and my "1979 was the best year EVER because that's when I kissed TED!" shrine in my room? I am gonna look like an obsessed nutbar if I'm honest!
Oh, this stupid memory.
I can't wait for the inevitable dementia everyone gets in my family.