More thoughts run through my head in 60 seconds of blank staring than most people process in a day. Very few of these musings resemble my actual life. Actually, there is marked disparity. (Think: apples and orangatans.)

The most recent collision of reality and my inner world happened as I accompanied my best pal (Winnie*) on a shopping sortie to Copley. Cast in the role of consumerist wing woman, I kept my eyes peeled for classic silhouettes that fell within her color palette.

Of course, altruism takes a back seat once I cross through the threshold of a BCBG Max Azria store. The back of that store has a gravitational pull under which I am powerless. Their party frocks are fab and I can immediately visualize myself coyly sipping a cocktail served in impractically shaped glassware. As I thumb through the racks of floor length gowns Winnie quips in her affably sarcastic sing-songy tone: “Never too early to plan for prom, eh?”

Touché, my dear friend; touché indeed. After 20 years of best friendship, she knows me all too well. The thought of another person knowing the floor plan of one’s mangled psyche may be terrifying to some, it is one of my greatest comforts to share this reciprocal shorthand. I just laughed and lobbed it back: “Hey- ya never know. This could be my year.”

Here’s the kicker: already, I have enough formal wear that you’d think I was an aspiring game show hostess investing vowel money in a professional wardrobe. That makes perfect sense considering:

*Tuesday 1/2 price burger night is the social highlight of my week

*My boyfriend:
—lives in Asia.
—takes pride in not owning a pair of shoes.

The storm in my brain came up with two possible solutions as impractical as they are warped.

*Host a Spinster Gala.
Breathe mints optional;
Cat required.

*Check with Vanna White to inquire about a closet swap: her wash-and-wear travel clothing for my finery.

“Yo Whitey- hit me back, ahhh-ight? I gots a favor to axe.”

N.B.: Alternate suggestions welcome as class participation is encouraged and will count for 30% of your final grade.

Tags: Asia, aspiring game show hostess, BCBG Max Azria store, head, kicker, New Brunswick, possible solutions, Vanna White, wash-and-wear travel clothing

Date of Original Publication:
Mon 07 Aug 2006 06:35 PM EDT
Multiple Choice Section of Your Pre-Flight Examination

TSA Officer: Do you have a butter knife in your bag?

Winnie:

A) I butter not.
B) All the better to eat you with!
C) Allah Akbar?

(Upon finding and confiscating said knife)
TSA: Technically, I’m supposed to call a state trooper over to clear you for your flight…

Winnie:
A) Is he single?
B) Will this involve a full body-cavity search? In that case, there’s something I need to tell you….
C) Go ahead, tell him there’s a Sheriff in Nevada that’s got dibs.

Tags: body-cavity search, Nevada, Sheriff, TSA Officer

A friend, whom for the purposes of this blog I shall name “Jenny”, woke up one recent morning to find a pimple of preposterous proportions developing smack-dab in the middle of her cheek. Like a bad boyfriend, this pimple was simply not going away until it had robbed poor Jenny of any self-esteem.

A colleague of Jenny’s, noticing her pimply predicament, suggested that she “dab a bit of urine on her cheek- a doctor said it would clear acne right up”. In the name of scientific research, I went in search of evidence to support this claim. I humbly submit to you the hyperlink below.

Urine, a cure for all diseases.

Tags: acne

I’m not much for video games… but holy CRAP! Wii is the best thing ever. Way better than sliced bread. It’s not even a contest.

It’s this alternate universe where I can break 100 at bowling. I can also box like a mofo, all without breaking a nail or messin’ up my hair. I wish I could make my Mii cuter, but she’s still a looker. Hollah!

I wonder if my boxing prowess would translate in a street fight. The realistic part of me says, “No chance.” My girl friend and I look like we’re having an seizure during a slapfight with ants in our pants. Must sign off for now. Sean and Stacy are taunting me for this “dear diary” entry and it’s my turn to kick some simulated butt.

Tags: boxing, Sean, Stacy