Saturday Musings

Summer isn't what it used to be, that's for sure. I used to spend entire days in the lake, or crashing through pine woods, or lying on clover reading Agatha Christie whilst frying my pale white tummy in the hopes of tanning like my sisters.

Today I went to the wave pool with the kid, splashed around in saline pee solution (I knew it was a saline pee solution because Smoochie peed in it), and ate a handful of jelly beans from a really unsanitary candy dispenser in the main lobby. I knew it was unsanitary because of the snot. There wasn't a single opportunity to water ski, steal a kiss from a Baptist minister's son who thought he could contract VD if so much as touched by a Catholic, or spit watermelon seeds over the retaining wall. On the other hand, no bottom-feeder fish tried to suck on my little toe as it dangled from the raft, either, so I suppose the day wasn't a dead loss.

I wonder if that minister's kid ever got over me. I expect I spoiled him for all other women. I would kiss me, you know, right now, if I was standing in front of twelve-year-old me, covered in Coppertone, chewing pink Bubbalicious, spackled in lip gloss and sass. A quick look to the right, into my grandmother's walnut vanity mirror, reveals 44-year-old me, covered in sad fat, spackled in Oil of Olay, and I have to say that I am not moved in the slightest to throw my arms around me, except maybe with compassion.

Moving right along.

Favorite song bit ever:

"It's got the wang bar from the crypt, Fender Fender Fender." -- Jonathan Richman, "Fender Stratocaster"

I just googled 'how to end a play.'

Painted the bathroom a hideous periwinkle and cannot bear to go on. Who knows how long the masking tape will cover the electrical outlets?

If having the largest collection of copper-hued nail polish bottles in the history of the world were a guarantor, as hoped, of real happiness, I would be really fucking happy right now.