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10.29.2004
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dear frightened boys everywhere,
please stop being so sensitive. a girl might have fucked you over once, another girl might have been using you for your money or your car or your awesome cunnilingus skills, maybe a different girl got a little not-in-a-good-way crazy for you, or maybe a girl was too ugly or smelly or stupid for you to get really into. but i promise you, oh gentle lads, that every girl you ever meet from now until eternity is not the girl who fucked you over in any of the aforementioned ways. and because she's not that girl, don't treat her like shit if she happens to enjoy your company. she may just honestly like being around you. geesh.
love,
one of the good ones
p.s. not everyone is out to get you. i swear.
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10.17.2004
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and they called it puppet love
skampgirl: we saw team america. it was hilarious.
anon puppet hater: i dislike marionettes
anon puppet hater: with a passion
skampgirl: omg... i love them!
anon puppet hater: so i dunno if i can stomach it
skampgirl: i have 2
anon puppet hater: they creep me out
anon puppet hater: eeewwwww
skampgirl: and when i get drunk...look out
skampgirl: the gimpy clown and the drunken mexican GET IT ON
anon puppet hater: haha maybe that's funny
skampgirl: yeah. marionettes are best when poorly crafted thereby creating hilarious handicaps.
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10.13.2004
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it's my party and he'll die if he wants to
this year, my birthday was on friday the 13th. even though i've experienced several friday the 13th birthdays in my life, i still can't seem to shake that ominous feeling whenever one occurs.
there's another thing that had been causing me some extra stressiness, too. my grandpa has been really sick all year and in various states of physical decay due to his bout with emphysema. (attention all smokers: stop now, thank me later.) i am now in the habit of checking fares to iowa fairly regularly just in case something happens. i said my in-person goodbyes in february, and it's been touch-and-go ever since. so that, coupled with the friday the 13th hoo-ha really had me feeling a little on edge.
and then this happened.
i was on my way to my birthday party when i got a phone call from my aunt. she wanted to let me know that grandpa was calling me to say goodbye. that he was calling his list of relatives to say goodbye. that this was goodbye goodbye. that they wanted to be sure i was able to hear him say goodbye. so she handed him the phone.
"hi grandpa. i'm sorry you're not feeling so great."
yeah, i'm brilliant. "i'm sorry you're not feeling so great" is all i can come up with to say to my dying grandpa? i'm a big fan of minimizing the severity of potentially dramatic situations, so yeah. i opted for the "i'm sorry you're not feeling so great" line. the rest of the conversation was decidedly awkward and weird, my grandpa in a room with my mom and her sisters watching him die, me in the back seat of my friend's car dressed in pink, wearing a tiara and carrying a magic wand wishing someone would kill me.
so i choked back the tears, reminded myself that he would soon be out of his misery, and convinced myself that having his death on my birthday wasn't necessarily the end of the world.
and then i got the phone call...
the next morning.
"well, he's still kicking. last night right after he called you, he gathered us all around his bed, we were all holding hands in a circle. he explained that he wanted to be cremated. that he wanted to be wearing a particular hat and a particular jacket when he's cremated. that he wanted his ashes dumped off his favorite fishing bridge. that he loves us. and that when his hands dropped, he'd be gone."
i was admittedly getting a little emotional. my grandpa had never ever in the history of his entire life been as effusive as it sounded like he was being. he was a rough and tumble old guy. very gruff. that's how i knew this had to be the end. she continued...
"and so we were standing around his bed, all of us sobbing like a bunch of babies, waiting for the inevitable. and then his hands dropped. and we cried even harder."
ok, for fuck's sake. i hate crying, and this call was getting to be ridiculous. she was crying on the phone. i was crying. but she carried on...
"and that's when your mom pointed out that his heart monitor was still beeping. the bastard just fell asleep! so 20 minutes later he wakes up again and says, 'am i done yet? am i gone?' and we all just start laughing and crying at the same time and tell him that no, he's still alive and with us, to which he replied, 'well, god damn it, what's it gonna take?!'"
well, god damn it indeed. he still hasn't figured out what it takes, and we couldn't be happier. in fact, we're all hoping for another christmas with the old guy. he may have ruined my party, but at least he ruined it for nothing.
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10.10.2004
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sugar and spice and everything sour
the other day while i was wrapping some things up at work, my friend's son came into my office and said, "dana, you're so pretty but why do you have to be so bitter?" i didn't have an answer for him at that moment, but it did make me really sad. and like all things that make me sad, i thought about his question obsessively until i figured out an answer.
so, the reason i'm so bitter is because i make a lot of bad decisions and have a tendency to settle for things that are less than ideal. and then, when things start to suck i have no one to blame but myself. let me put this in terms an 8 year old kid can understand: being responsible for your own suckage is like eating a giant handful of sour patch kids. pretty fucking bitter.
anyway charlie, thanks for the slap in the face. from here on out, it's nothing but sweetness for me. please pass the skittles.
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