if you need a good laugh--

or cry--do yourself a favor and watch the aristocrats. this last week has been characterized by devastatingly low lows and what i initially thought were going to be highs but ended up being lesser lows. it's one of those films that i'm going to always remember, not because of its content but rather because it allowed me and her to truly laugh, together, after this dark period that seemed to make us forget how that was done. it was just what i needed.

i missed two days of work and now it's friday and i still feel like shit. i remember when i was in elementary school i loved being sick because that meant staying home and watching tv all day; if only being sick were that simple today. sure, you can watch movies all fucking day, but at the cost of missing a day of class/work/whatever it is that you do. missing two days of work especially hurts when you need to feed yourself and pay rent.

the last time i was at work before the sick days, my kids played softball against older, more athletic kids, all of whom play little league ball. their counselor threw these trick pitches at my team and was clearly trying his absolute hardest to strike them out. his fun didn't end after he struck all my boys out and continued through to when it was our turn to play outfield. and 'playing outfield' for my kids means sitting on the grass, wildly chasing each other, or running away screaming from the ball whenever it came near them. an asshole jock 25 year-old camp counselor deriving sadistic pleasure from beating 6 year olds at a game of softball is most definitely up there on my all-time-saddest-things-i've-ever-seen list.

maybe some of this bitterness stems from my experiences never being the athletic kid. i actually could care less, i never had any desire to be the athletic kid. it's just that getting hit with balls--from them being thrown at you, and not necessarily haphazardly--got old. and painful. fuck sports; whatever happened to flying kites and playing in treehouses and riding bikes?


this past week i've spent many a night in my favorite late night coffeehouse enjoying my favorite hot chocolate and free wi-fi (because the neighbors i'd steal from finally locked their networks). when i showed up monday night one of the first things i hear is WHAT UP FOOL?! from this poseur douche bag who used to live in my building my third year of college and would be extra chummy with me so he could bum smokes. fuck you, man. i sit down at my favorite table and couldn't help but be distracted by inane high school skank banter. some highlights.
"ohmygod, i only date guys taller than me, but this guy was totally the same height as me! i broke up with him when i realized it."
or, "ohmygod, my mom said that i can only go to cabo if your mom or courtney's mom goes too, but don't worry, i totally told her that your mom is coming so it's all good."
or, "ohmyGAWD, you totally DO have your nipples pierced!!"

the other night i hung out in the courtyard with some neighbors. two of them are (surprise) aspiring writers/actors, one of them a self-described black-tor. they were taking a break from rehearsing their latest play, the Westwood Whats. westwood isn't exactly the most exciting town, but i'm still curious. we decided that one of their new plays should be about the black-tor living as a white man trapped in a black man's body. we were brainstorming lines for the coming-out monologue when all of a sudden the landlord--"rock and roll mom," as we know her--came out and told us that we were being too loud. after we apologized she laughed, said "just kidding!" and invited us in for a glass of wine.


dear readers, as i've alluded to above, my neighbors have all locked their networks, so my internet access at home is no more. but believe me, i still read/comment on your blogs whenever i can. now it's time to medicate myself and get some sleep.