Explain to me

How does this person named Six_of_Cups have one of my books for sale, when my book isn’t out until May 31?

This reminds me of the last time I had a book out on Amazon, and someone was selling a signed copy that I don’t remember signing.

Oh, well. This is capitalism, I guess.

flying; my pants’ seat

I have several projects due pretty soon at work, and there are still parts of our project-turning-out process that I don’t know how to do. Learning: Too bad it doesn’t seem to burn calories.

Also, I’m going to fly to Dallas in a few days, and I don’t have my plane tickets yet. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there. And I don’t know what to wear. And I don’t know what I’m allowed to take in my luggage.

And I’m too tired to look it all up. I’ll look it all up tomorrow.

high school reunions

I’ve recently come into contact with two people I haven’t seen since we went to Reagan High School together.

One seemed happy. The other didn’t.

happy Mothers’ Day

We celebrated the birthday of one of my kids, belatedly, instead. I kind of felt bad, for a fleeting instant, that I didn’t have anyone to buy a nice gift for.

I mean, I could have bought something for my mom, but she doesn’t like anything nice. She only would’ve been happy with:
a) a carton of cigarettes and some lottery tickets, or
b) a bunch of magazine pictures scribbled with a leaky pen and rolled up in aluminum foil, or
c) like, a black nylon coat from the Goodwill that smells like smoke or something.

Which is fine, except that I didn’t feel like shopping for any of that stuff.

(To those of you who are new to this site: My mom has been schizophrenic since I was very young and I’m so calloused and jaded about it that I can make flippant comments about the uncouthness of her illness once a year or so. Apparently.)

If my Aunt Sylvia were still alive, I could have bought her anything sentimental and she would’ve been happy. I could have bought her, say, a white ceramic bear with a lacy plastic heart glued to his chest with the words “Luv U Mom!” and a fake carnation emerging from the back of his head. And she would’ve been pleased.

But I would’ve bought her something nicer than that.

Instead, I helped pick out flowers for my boyfriend’s mom. I really enjoy shopping for flowers. I said, “How about candy to go with the flowers? She doesn’t like candy? How about shower gel? No?” Afterwards, my boyfriend offered to buy me flowers, too. But I declined. Because I wanted to pick my own flowers, and no one had anything I wanted. Seriously — the flower selection was rank this year. Prematurely wilted.

I told him I’d buy myself flowers next week, when everything’s replenished. Instead, I bought myself a pedicure, on Friday. “This,” I told myself, “is my Mothers’ Day gift.”

I mean, I would’ve gotten a pedicure either way. But still.

I might be secretly upset about some of this, on some level, and that’s why I’m typing so much about it. If so, that’s okay.

And it’s okay if you don’t like Matt Damon, because I like him enough for the both of us.

My kids and I had a Jason Bourne Film Festival yesterday and today. I love the hell out of those movies. Even though I hated the book, The Bourne Identity, when I read it was back in the day.

Everything is better with a little Matt Damon, though. I’ve always liked him. Also, did you all know that Clive Owen was in the first movie? And Eomer, from Lord of the Rings, was in the second? (That’s who my son said it was. I could check IMDb right now to be sure, but I don’t feel like it.)

video game news

They’re coming out with another World of Warcraft expansion that takes you to Level 80, and my lazy night elf character, Xora, is still only Level 35. Khan.

We opened up a lot of new songs on Rock Band, but my voice is still sore, so I bought some new clothes for my character, Xora Jane. I cut her hair short and dyed it green. My kids said, “What happened to your hair?” Kind of like they said about my real hair, now that it’s short and dyed red.

But, you know. These things happen.

We got this game called Assasin’s Creed that everybody keeps telling us to get. I had a long conversation with the game store clerks, during which they each explained to me, separately, that it was about the Crusades. (“What do they call that? That religious thing?”) So now I’m excited, even though I can’t play console games worth a crap because my fingers haven’t ever adapted to the boomerang-shaped controllers. The Game Stop guy said I should totally sit on the couch and watch my kids play, though, just to see the story unfold.

I think my kids paid him to tell me that, actually. That’s their fantasy — that I get rich and quit my job and buy them more video games and then sit there, watching them play.


Stream of consciousness writing time over! It’s time for bed!


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Posted in domestic, trauma, vanity, WOW, writing on 05/13/2008 03:22 am

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