Overall it was a bad month for my health – a sprained ankle coupled with a horrible cough and an onslaught of emotional and physical obstacles brought on by the ingestion of little triangular pills. My brother asked why Pierre couldn’t just take the pill instead of me. I think I just might make him do it just to get back at him. I’m thinking Sunday-through-Tuesday could take a little late-night dip in his Michelob Ultra Light. Then we’ll see who’s being overly-sensitive.
I always forget that when you fly to places like Singapore and Hawaii where ugly people feel comfortable wearing their summer halloween costumes (that is to say scary AND loose fitting, completed usually with plastic sun visor worn indoors) that it is OK for me, myself, to wear scary and loose fitting clothes to blend with the crowd. However, under no circumstances, is it ok to take a flight back to Los Angeles wearing less than jeans and t+shirt, which amazingly I tried to do. I actually thought it was a good idea to board Flight 2497, red eye to LAX, wearing white capri pajama pants, black & white checkered vans (with red socks, no less) and a dirty abercombie slut shirt. Nevermind the male model typing on his Viao across the way or the doctor/lawyer type playing with his iPod RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I started to seriously worry if I am even going to be attractive to pick up a cab when I got into LAX or if the flight attendant is going to make me sit in the baggage compartment so as to not disturb any of the other passengers. Lucky for me there was an Asian woman with two hideous looking children that I could camoflauge myself against. Still couldn’t dodge the baggage compartment though.
Every time I take my bike out around Venice, I feel like everyone’s looking at me saying, “Why is she going so slow?”, and, “Why is she working so hard at it?”. My bicycle, though cute and nimble, has tires that are 20″ in diameter, making it not only hard to cover a lot of ground, but impossible to buy in this country as it is the size and spoke of an entirely different culture . It’s actually pretty convenient for me since I, (like most people my age), enjoy wasting time and money.
The great mystery of being 4’6″ is that nobody in the world seems to be this height, NOBODY. People hit 4’5″ and make a b-line straight to 5’4″, which is still considered short, but accessible. Not big enough to get the good cereal on the top shelf, still small enough for people to put clothes I’ve mistakenly left out on their babies and cats (which is SO my fault, you FREAKS)*, hunting down the machinery that runs my life has proved difficult and expensive. The bicycle accompanied me on a trip out of Singapore and back into SFO. My mother saw the giant box and asked what was in the box. When I said a bicycle, she followed up my answer with, “Can you even ride a bicycle?”, in the way she only imagined me being able to do so the way monkeys or dogs do it a carnivales (…with a hat). But of course, I can ride a bicycle, and my bicycle is rad, so if you see a little girl panting through a Venice intersection, could you please keeping the pointing and laughing to a minimum? Thanks.
*And btw – the kind people who put my underpants on my cat were my parents when they did my laundry while I was at a sleepover. It’s another layer I hope the pills will unravel.
Which means spontaneous napping all over the house. 8 times out of 10, I make it to bed, which is convenient. Other times, I’m not as lucky.
