I took a photo of this guy in Chinatown because he was taunting everyone walking by saying, "Boo hoo. Boo hoo. Go home and cry to your mommy." I guess he had some issue with Americans in general and the Dalai Lama in particular and I'm sure if you talked to him for very long he'd probably get around to telling you that Ghandi and Mother Theresa were total assholes too. Which, if I weren't with my girls, I might have tried to introduce myself, because those kinds of whack jobs really crack my shit up.
Oh, kids. I hate to break it to you, but I'm feeling a little random tonight. Yeah, it looks like you'll get another peak at what untreated, adult ADD looks like. As you probably remember from my other random posts, it's not pretty. So, let's start flinging crap, shall we?
1.) I've been having these horrible night terrors lately where I'll think I woke up and walked into the living room because it sounded like someone had broken into our house. When I enter the room, the fan kicks on and the skirt I'm wearing (only in the dream) flies up and sticks to my face covering my nose so I can't breathe and there's also some horrible presence in the room. I usually wake up all freaked out and it sometimes takes me hours to go back to sleep. Stinky said the other night, she heard me pounding the wall in my room presumably trying to get the imaginary fabric away from my nose. How bizarre is that? Yeah, maybe one of those soothing cricket noise tapes wouldn't be such a bad idea after all?
2.) One thing I noticed about my girls when we were on vacation, is that they had their guest personalities on the whole time. You know how when your kids go to their friends or families houses, and people tell you how wonderfully behaved they are and how they helped clean up and were very polite? And you wonder what the hell those people could be talking about because their rooms look like a bomb went off and they had a huge screaming meltdown in the car on the way over for their visit? Well, on vacation, my kids act like they must at other people's houses. They would unpack the car without waiting for me to ask them, let alone complaining. They'd help set up the tent and make the fire at our campsite and ask me if I wanted anything to eat or drink while I was driving. Of course, the minute we pulled up in our driveway, they both went straight into the house empty handed. Apparently, whatever pod people my kids are possessed by on the road, refuse to follow us all the way back to Iowa. Damn it.
3.) Stinky's locker number at school is 666. For real. It really couldn't be more perfect.
4.) Remember how I told you that we hung out with my Uncle when we were in California? Well, after I got back, I was talking to my Aunt who was my legal guardian when I was growing up (the California uncle's sister) and she was laughing about how sheltered her brother was. "He doesn't read the paper or watch TV or really know what's going on in the world. I even tried to make a joke with him once and he didn't get it because he didn't know what a ho' was. I had to explain to him that it was another name for a prostitute..." Did I mention that my Aunt is 70? I never thought the day would come when my Aunt, who is so decidedly NOT street that she lives out in the country in Southeast Iowa, would be going on about how much hipper she was than someone else. Wow. No wonder I'm having night terrors lately.
5.) I got to see my girlcrush after I got back into town and she was even wearing her Coco Puffs t-shirt. It sure is good to be back in Iowa.
6.) On Friday when I was talking to Mr. B., he brought up one of my exes. He's known that particular ex for years, and he thought it was weird that not only were we still friends, but that that ex and I talked to each other about people we either date or have crushes on or whatever. I have a feeling the real issue is that we had talked about Mr. B. before. He said, "I'm not saying that you shouldn't be friends with your exes, I just think it's weird, that's all." Then I asked him if he wasn't friends with any of his exes and he said, "Hell no. All my exes are so fuckin' psycho that I try to stay as far away as possible."
I'm actually friends with most guys I've dated except the couple icky abusive ones. It usually takes me about three months to get over all the bullshit after a break-up and then I'm fine and I wish them the best. The guy I dated this Winter even called me this weekend out of the blue and left me this message: "In Fast Times at Ridgemont High", which three actors went on to win academy awards?" I called him back and said, "Duh. Sean Penn, Forest Whitaker and Nicholas Cage." Then we talked for close to an hour about a bunch of other stupid stuff.
So, here's my question to you blog readers: Are you friends with your exes, are you done with them as soon as it's over, or does it depend on the person?