It’s been a long time since I hit ye olde blogge! Sorry for the interruption in service. I blame it on having full cable now. My intellectual self is taking a dive and my Mike & Ike-eating, popcorn-bloating, coconut water-drinking self is really unbuttoning ‘er pants and bloating the zipper down.
What is notable in life? Hmmmm. Skateboarding is relentlessly great as a thing to do with every spare minute. I still think cats are excellent pets. I still think making fun of hipsters is a job solely undertaken by hipsters, and that somehow the whole thing, despite its circle game, feels xenophobic or, if I may downgrade, feels like junior high bananagans. That really is the last time I remember people so aggressively making fun of one group of people based on their clothing and bicycles.
Here is a question to ask about myself: How can one woman who is for the most part exceedingly robust have so many health troubles all the time? Is it because I am out in the world living and traveling and falling down? I had two sports injuries (I like saying “sports injuries” b/c my friend used to use that phrase as a euphemism for “period” referring to not punctuation) of note last week, a cut on my ankle from my skateboard (for sure I was doing something incredible when that happened) and a cut on the arch of my foot from my swim fin. So before the story even really gets going you know I am awesome. I noticed my right ankle with the skate cut wasn’t healing, then that it was itching a bunch, and next thing you know I have my second case of cellulitis in the last year. Which I think is both gross and weird. Which leads to my true darling, DISGUST. I’ve been on antibiotics for a week and one thing I now know is that they are not mood enhancers and no sixteen-year-old musician who rocketed to fame too quickly would throw a few in her face before performing. They make me feel loosely sad and held down at all times. When I skated Cunningham last weekend I was in an antibiotic dope haze and fell about twenty times, mostly in the skull bowl where I could not for the life of me carve the bowl. Drop in, skate the shallow, down the waterfall to the deep and SLAM. Over and over. It was the end of the day so I was exhausted and internally fighting disease so my skills were not in fact at their zenith. I fell every which way but loose, with a robust audience of four guys, all of whom skated the bowl with ease. Including a nine-year-old. I finally stopped after my billionth beef and dragged my carcass over to my girlfriend who had to leave because watching me jostle my bones around was too upsetting. We packed our totes and headed out for pho.
SPEAKING OF TOTES, that is a great gift to have on hand if someone in your office is having a birthday and you don’t know them or don’t care but feel you must give a gift. Other big items are ugly stationery, heart-shaped keychains (extra great if you leave a sticker on the packaging that says it was free with another purchase), dish towels and radio silence. These also work for relatives. They constitute the best way of saying to someone (me) you’ve known their whole life, “I’m sorry, you are…?” except without the “I’m sorry.”
Anyway I am now going to sit in my fatigue and bruised knee and stare at the wall. Once I gather enough energy I’m going to close the curtains and make popcorn. I think those statements are the very reason blogs and twitter can be dumb (I like both). I mean, WHO CARES.