Mary + Her Mental Health

We won't discuss it! You will READ THIS STORY and that is final!

Seriously, you must read it.

Today I decided that it's okay to put up a non-funny portrait. "Funny" is great. But "funny" is only truly great when it flies solo, without some other passenger motive. Such as covering up your fear of being truly known by someone, or denegrating others to make you feel better than.

Today i put up a "pretty" picture. I posed for a NY photographer. It's okay to admit that I spent money on pictures of myself. It's part of the industry. It's okay to look pretty.

It's also okay to wear swim suits. I have a phobia of swim suits. I get panicky with just the idea of wearing one. I haven't worn a swim suit in over five years. If I do wear one, I'm usually wearing shorts on the bottom and, when out of the water, a t-shirt on top. But the shorts are always worn. Last weekend, Peggy and I tried on swim suits and I actually came out of the dressing room and showed her and the two other women in the dressing room what I looked like. Peggy had me stand in front of the three-way mirror and see myself wearing a swim suit. This was like pliers to my teeth, and I detested every single minute of it while taking severely deep breaths and fighting back tears. But you know what? It's okay. It's okay to wear swim suits. And someday I will wear one outside of a closet and be okay.

It's okay to, while speaking to boys on the phone, pace through the entire house like a robot bouncing into walls, turn around, then go in the other direction ad nauseum ad infinitum. It's okay.

It's okay if people hear you singing to yourself. Even when you're a trained singer and people might think you're just singing because you're in love with your voice. When that's not really it. You just like to sing.

It's okay to say no and stick to it, when no and sticking to it is really the right thing.

It's okay to not be just funny or clever on your blog. Funny is only part. There's also sincere. And I'm okay with that, too.

Came into work this morning and found these on my desk:



They are absolutely gorgeous and smell really purty like. Chocolate truffles and lunch at the Ritz tomorrow. I know I complain a lot about how poor I am. But that's just because I'm poor. Nevertheless, I have seriously never been treated this well by bosses. And they obviously know EXACTLY what effect fresh flowers and chocolate has on me: the power to forget that I shop at Goodwill for clothes, one day before we discuss my raise. I'm not sure if I should tell my future husband about this little weakness I have; it may get exploited beyond all rationale:

Husband: Honey, I was unfaithful this week, and I went to Vegas and blew the kids' college money. And I'm not really a man. But here's some truffles and pale pink peonies...I love you, and if you can just....

Me: ...[interrupting, with feeling] Shut up. Just shut up. You had me at Truffles. (whisper-weepy) Youuu had meee at Truffles.

[passionate embrace]

The End.

I must kiss this child! Like now! Here's Paulo at Monterey Bay Aquarium. Mommy and Daddy were kind enough to escort him.

So Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man has got himself a new lady friend. A steady lady friend. She's been over a lot the last few weeks. We know this for a few reasons:

1. Her silver minivan is parked behind Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man's truck every other day or so.

2. We hear her.

3. We hear him with her.

Some of you may recall that we live in a two-family home, which basically means that our apartment is merely the first floor of a two-story home. A two-story home with walls apparently constructed of sound-spreading materials.

I sleep directly under Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man's living room, where he has just installed a home theater speaker system. Harley likes the following for home viewing entertainment:

Cops
ESPN
Dirty Harry
Horror flicks
Gunfire/Screaming
Nam movies
Braveheart (recognized the "FREEEEEEDOOOOOOOMMM!!")
The Last of the Mohicans (recognized the "I WILL find you!")

Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man's lady friend likes to talk loudly over action sequences and cackle through her nose and cry for her Maker when things get gruesome or scary.

Peggy, my poor poor roommate, sleeps directly under Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man's bedroom. And I will just stop right there. Poor Peggy. Poor poor Peggy. Peggy occasionally will run out of her room muttering "ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew" as she makes a furious bee-line for the bathroom to vomit.

And that's how we know when Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man's lady friend is paying Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man a visit.

BTW: we're moving.

Hi! Remember me? I used to blog. And stuff.

So the school year is winding down, and if we can just get to commencement, I think my head will not explode as I feel it is destined to do at any moment.

It’s a quarter after five and I’m at work waiting to go to the retirement party for one of our VP’s. There is that unwritten law that if you don’t go to these things, and act like you’re having fun, no one will ever consider you for a pay increase. Not a chance. And I need a pay increase. I need like 47 pay increases. So off to schmooze I go.

Some other random thoughts:

1) I downloaded some Bach cello suites illegally off a nameless website. Feeling really guilty. I know the guy’s dead and all. But still. It’s just not right. Sorry, Johann; I can’t pay for culture right now.
2) I bruised the padding in my right foot the other day while running in the rain. Have you ever bruised a pad? Really annoying.
3) I called my landlord yesterday and told him my rent was going to be late by I would pay it no later than the 19th. He was super cool about it. Well, it’s the very least he can do, seeing as how I live in a ramshackle den of mold and moths.

4) I really want to be home for Mother’s Day this year. I miss the fam, plus Dad is barbecuing steak. And I haven’t seen my nephew in six months. That’s like more than half his lifetime. That’s just nuts.



5) I am craving me some Splash Mountain in a way that’s inhumane.
6) I’m gonna go on record as being the first person I know that didn’t like the new King Kong.

And that’s it. Bye.