too long for twitter

Y’all are pretty much aware that I don’t usually publish posts unless they meet a minimum of 237,013 paragraphs. Accordingly, I save my briefer thoughts for expression via Twitter. Trouble is, thoughts aren’t always short enough to cram into 142 characters, and they’re not always long enough to hash out in painfully protracted swaths of vowels and consonants. Like some kind of binary letterform jungle on your screen. Every time you come here you have to use a virtual machete to hack your way through the textual undergrowth.

I’m really selling you on reading this blog, aren’t I?

I made an exhilarating discovery today, and it’s this: if I list out a quantity of medium-sized thoughts, I get a post nearly as insufferably lengthy as the ones I usually write! As a special bonus, this format allows me to feverishly leap from topic to topic without maintaining any semblance of a contextual thread whatsoever!

There. Now aren’t you glad you stayed?

  • So I was watching Toddlers & Tiaras (I KNOW, I KNOW) and a family was filling out beauty pageant forms in their hotel room and the dad read aloud from the page, “Ambitions in Life.” And the little girl called out, “A doctor!” just as the father commented, “To make some man’s life miserable.” Which kind of just stabbed me in the heart to think of this poor child’s future. And this was after some other dude described his 3-year-old granddaughter thusly: “She’s a pretty girl but just like all women she’s cranky.” Okay. Because it’s not like she is maybe cranky because SHE’S A TODDLER, she’s clearly cranky because she has a vagina.
  • The people that live a couple houses down have allowed their shrubbery to grow to such heights that it is now blocking my view of the mountains from my kitchen window. I can no longer see the horizon, and I need to see the horizon. The horizon is my lifeline to the entire world. My parents bought a house in Virginia that is situated at the bottom of a slight valley and every time I go there I want to claw my face off because EVERY TIME I LOOK OUTSIDE ALL I SEE IS A WALL OF TREES. Which is fine, you know, if you really need to monitor trees [“YEP, THEY ARE STILL THERE.”]. But me, I need to know what’s happening beyond those trees. For example, what kind weather conditions are coming our way? If I glance out the window of my house and it’s difficult to clearly see the mountains, then I know it’s going to be a hazy, ugly day. If the mountains are covered by a blanket of fog, then I know that it will probably be foggy at my house later. If the mountains are on fire, then I know it’s time to maybe turn on the news.1 See? SEEING THINGS IS INDISPENSABLE. Right now, all I can see out my kitchen window is a dang shrubbery and all that shrubbery can ever tell me about what’s going on in my world is that my neighbors are LAZY JERKFACES.
  • Last weekend my friend had to go to a neon-themed birthday party. Since she and I are officially old enough to have been abandoned by popular culture, we just don’t have a readily-available supply of neon in our wardrobes like the Youth of Today apparently does.2 At the same time, we are both fairly broke and we were looking for cheap activities to fill our Saturday hangout time. Ironically, I had believed that I’d gracefully graduate from paycheck-to-paycheck living once I hit a certain age, as perhaps a kind of consolation prize for being too ancient to matter to the rest of the world, but APPARENTLY THAT IS NOT THE CASE. Anyway, I agreed to go with her to Forever Twelve to find some inexpensive highlighter-hued accessories. Except we needed some liquid courage for the journey to steady us against the swarming preteens, so I filled a giant bottle with vodka and we carried it with us to the store. “You look thirsty, have some water,” I’d announce to my friend, snickering as I presented her the bottle. At the end of the day, an entire neon wardrobe was obtained for $12.83 and no preteens were physically harmed, so it was a wildly successful excursion. I am looking forward to enjoying many more variations on this money-saving theme.
  • I try not to be too hard on myself. I try my damnedest to maintain a body-positive mental zone. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder if something is wrong with me. You ever wonder about that? Like maybe whether you have some special affliction from which others don’t seem to suffer? I’m talking specifically about sweating, here. Because, dude. Every time I finish a workout, I look like someone just poured a bucket of water over the top of my head. I am panting, my clothes are soaked through, my hair is dripping. Dripping! Ew, right? My fears are compounded every time I get off the bike after spin class and glance over at some girl whose hair is still dry and has kept all signs of dampness tastefully confined to one small circle on her lower back. Do these people just hold all that sweat in, like a fart? What? What am I missing here? What am I doing wrong?
  • I really, really wish the housing rental listings on Craigslist could be sorted by neighborhood.
  • I could totally have fit that last statement on Twitter, but I try pretty hard not to pollute others’ social media feeds with a constant stream of mundane observations. I reserve that right for my blog.
  • Since I have already mentioned Twitter so dang much in this post, here’s another thought: I wish I had tweeted more during my wedding week. I could have come up with a hash tag and everything. I could have shared more. I could have basked in the sense of community. But no. I was too busy that week trying not to hurl from nervousness and tension. Also, I didn’t have a phone with internet access then. So. There’s that.
  • Lately I’ve found myself regretting the fact that we never got engagement pictures. But I highly suspect it’s not that I regret missing out on photos of us awkwardly posing on vintage furniture in a meadow so much as I regret missing out on the opportunity to have another session with a professional photographer. Our wedding was the first time in my life I’d had professional pictures taken that weren’t inside a JC Penney studio, and boy! What a difference! It was like going from having your hair cut and styled with a switchblade by a methamphetamine dealer in a dark alley all the way to having your hair cut and styled by John Frieda at his flagship salon in New York City. And now I am like, sweet, now I have some photos of myself that I actually like, except whoops, I’m in a wedding dress in all of them. Which is, I know, just about the saddest story you’ve ever read, but wipe your tears and stay with me here. I suddenly realized that, hey! You don’t actually have to have a life-changing event taking place to get good photos taken. So I’ve decided that every few years we should find and hire a photographer whose work we really love and do an informal portrait/family session with that person. I’m really excited about this and want to get started now, but see the third bullet point about being fairly broke. Eh. Maybe next year, then.
  • I still don’t know how to refer to the beau in this space. I am almost ready to just give up and go with his real name, since most of you know it already, but I still really do want to minimize how searchable we are, since there are people out there who don’t know about this blog and I’d like to keep it that way. But “the beau” seems so contrived, kind of like how “the boy” started feeling a few years ago. Yet any other name I try to call him feels wrong. Nick? Who the hell is that? CONCERNS, I HAVE THEM.

Lastly, thanks for your kind words about my last couple of posts. I have indeed rebounded and life staggers on like your drunken uncle at the family reunion.


1 Sadly, this has happened before, more than once.


21 Responses to “too long for twitter”

  1. Heck yes on the professional photographer bit. (I had boudoir photos taken of myself last winter…so freaking fun.)

    I like sweating buckets during workouts. Not so much when I’m not. :-)

    And I like your random thought paragraph post. It works for you. (Along with your usual posts too.)

  2. Strange, but in the last four days I have gone through that exact thought process with respect to engagement photos. I thought they were kind of silly, until I saw my friends’ and got totally jealous. I want nice non-wedding pictures too! But then I figured I could be even cooler and wait till I have a kid or something. Seems like a good enough reason to have a kid right? for the photo-ops?

    • Yeah, me too! So we started doing anniversary photos at our first anniversary. We can’t afford someone professional very often, so maybe someone professional every several years, and then us doing our own self-photos with a tripod and timer on the other years? We both have a good eye for composition (and a good camera) and S knows how to work the camera to capture the artistic image we are envisioning. So we will give that a try the fall for our 2nd anniversary. I am already excited and have a potential location! :)

  3. Some people are sweaters (me! me!) to an embarrassing degree. Like, 2 minutes on the elliptical and I’m sweaty, even though I SWEAR I’m not breathing hard yet, it’s easy peasy, and I could do this for HOURS. I hate the non-sweaty people and their socially acceptable genetics with deep envy and loathing.
    -I am contemplating more pro photos. Possibly for a holiday card, for the blog, or for linkedin headshot purposes. But mostly, it’s because I finally also have photos I like (woah) but I refuse to use my wedding photos in non-wedding-related situations. Damn shame, because I looked good. Because that’s how weddings work.
    -Forever 12. HAHAHAHAHA. And I raided them last year for an 80s themed party. Next time I’ll remember to bring booze.

  4. Hahaha! This entire post is awesome and hilarious. That is all.

    Oh wait! I have the reverse thing happening – I *hate* the way I look in our wedding photos, with the exception of like two. Plus, Keith and I both look completely different and our wedding was only a year ago. So to compensate we’re getting anniversary photos taken every year. Nothing fancy – just a fun way to document our lives together. This year we’re wearing jammies in bed and a friend is shooting for trade. The shoot is next week, actually – I can’t wait!

  5. I do more of my shopping than I really should admit to at Forever Twelve (HA, btw!) but I have become less and less ashamed of it even as I get older and older because I am NEVER the oldest person there, and you might be slightly older than me but you wouldn’t be either. Also, if you’re going to wear stupidly trendy clothing that won’t be cool in two months, you might as well wear the ten dollar version, and if designers don’t like having their vision ripped off, they should have hired me to be their IP legislative liaison for seven figures and I would make that happen for them, but until then I am going to be buying cheap crap to match my crap income.

  6. Yeah on hiring a photographer you love for family photo sessions just because! I would totally hire our wedding photographer again for family photo sessions and I hope we can do that in a few years and have it not be prompted by a pregnancy necessarily.

  7. So, we just had a nutritionist come to speak at our work (half the company are dancers, so.) And apparently the way your body responds to exercise is that you’re either a sweater or a head-exploder (her words!). And being a sweater is good because it’s your body’s natural way of trying to cool you down. Head-exploders just go really red in the face and get all puffed, without the body being able to cool itself down with sweat, so they need to go have a cold shower or something to make the workout complete.
    As a head-exploder myself, I wish that I wasn’t. Being totally red in the face and puffed at the slightest bit of exercise is very inconvenient and embarrassing!

    • I had $15 in my account before Patrick Swayze (that’s what I’m picking as my husbands pseudonym. yup. you can borrow it if you want.) got his unemployment check this week. I could have bought an outfit at Forever if I didn’t feel like all those kids look at me like I’m someone’s mom in there. At this rate, we may never experience this DINK business people keep glowing about.

      I sweat (sweated?) so hard at my junior prom I spent half the night in the bathroom with my pits under the hand dryer (the other half doing a duet/dance routine with my date to Shoop). After that I swore off silk shantung and rigorously applied Certain Dry until I killed my armpit sweat glands. Now I’m a head-exploder. Awesome.

    • Hey! This is fascinating. I’m also a head exploder. Always thought it meant I was killing myself.

    • This is FASCINATING.

    • I’m a head exploder too when I’m out of shape. When I get in shape, I don’t sweat any more than usual and my face doesn’t turn red. Maybe I’m magic and the heat just melts away like magic.

  8. That shopping trip sounds like something else.

    I also sweat when I exercise. Nothing wrong with it. But it’s why I eschew gyms and exercise outdoors at night.

    Photos every few years is a great idea. Except for when you need the money for food and rent.

  9. I’m a head exploder! I get so embarrassingly red even when I’m not going 100% so we all have our things and I’m probably too busy to notice you sweating, worrying you’re judging my redness.

    And I saw that T&T episode and felt so bad for that little girl in general. She seemed lovely and the parents were so up the butt of the little boy and he was crap on stage and she tried her hardest. Glad she won something!

  10. a) I SWEAT THE SAME WAY. If you discover a cure, let me know. Especially if you discover one for those cretins who don’t sweat.
    b) I think that I’m going to start doing professional photog sessions just because. Seeing as how we didn’t even get one for the wedding, I think I’m allowed. If you do it too we’ll start being a majority.
    c) Toddlers and Tiaras makes me want to physically harm things. I’m not allowed to watch it because I kicked the TV once.
    d) Random thought post = awesome.
    e) I discovered water bottles of vodka in college (I’m a late bloomer compared with 3rd graders today!) and they have saved my life many many times.

  11. I can’t shop at Forever XXI because I’m too intimidated by their return policy. They even ask you while you are cheking out, “you know about our return policy, right?” because they are (correctly) assuming that 10 minutes after purchasing this $3.50 belt I am going to have total spending guilt and want to take it back because it’s cheap and hideous and hello, I’m nearly thirty, but C’EST IMPOSSIBLE! Too bad for you.

    And what’s with the whole paycheck-to-paycheck thing? It’s like the unattainable dream, to have any money left over at the end of the month. I kep thinking various milestones would help with this; for instance when I graduated college, or when I got a job, or when I moved to fucking cheap and ugly Ohio from my beloved Chicago, or when I married someone who makes a lot more than a social worker, or when we paid off the wedding, but nope, haven’t gotten there yet. I guess the next possibly milestone is when my last kid graduates college. By which time I will be paying 5K a month at the Assisted Living, probably.

  12. Ugh…I’m such a sweaty person. It’s so gross, but most of my problem is that I’m also afraid that I might stink on top of being sweaty. I’m absolutely paranoid about it and I think I’m the only person in the world who still uses Shower to Shower powder. One of my friends calls me “Whitney” as in Houston because I sweat from every part of my body.

    I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that it will never be possible for me to have a ton of money left over at the end of the month. I have a little bit, but it’s not like I could start paying next months rent early with it. I always thought not having to live paycheck to paycheck was the official seal of growupness. Maybe that’s why I feel so immature and young even though I’m 30, married, with a career.

  13. yay for photos! boo for trees! fuck trees! and fuck neon! i’m with you.

  14. This is the best kind of post, because I can reply in a series of seemingly unrelated bullet points that correspond well with my attention span. ROCK ON.

    – OF COURSE YOU NEED TO SEE THE HORIZON!!! I grew up in Colorado, on the plains where we dont have those silly “tree” things, so I COMPLETELY understand this. I need sky. SKY. I feel claustrophobic without it. (Also, I want to have warning when the aliens show up.)

    – Padmapper! It sorts apartment listings for you! And puts them on a map! GENIUS!

    – I live with a freaking professional photographer and I STILL don’t have nice pictures of myself. My mother cannot hide her disappointment that I brought a “staff photographer” into the family and he is reluctant to actually take pictures when not at work. Sigh. It’s probably time to hire someone.

    – I think the beau is charming. Well, “the beau” is charming. I assume the actual beau is charming too, given what I have gleaned from blogstalking you. Hmm? Creepy? What?

  15. Also a sweater! So glad to hear I’m not the only one thinking about this at the gym. We just did engagement pictures and I’m so glad because besides having good pictures, it helped to work out the kinks (apparently I hardcore scrunch up my face when kissing him on the cheek in a picture, and make the whole thing look very awkward).

  16. I’m sorry that “The Candyman” is already taken. I like the thought of calling him Patrick Swayze. Or maybe Vince Neil. Or Steve Perry.

    I’ve never really paid attention to sweaters, myself or otherwise. Now do I have to be self-conscious about that too? Goddammit.

    And can you tell I’m catching up on all the blog reading?

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