Monday, May 30, 2011

Silver and Gold

Remember that song about friends? "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold"? I don't know why I know this song. It's in the recesses of my mind from elementary school. Somehow, it's true. Even if I'm not particularly crazy about silver or gold. Maybe it could be changed to diamonds and emeralds. Or sapphires. Or whatever is matching my outfit for the day.

Anyway, I had the total silver and gold experience this weekend. M is still a fairly new friend, but I adore her. My favorite emails and relationship advice come from her. She passed on some excellent advice to C last night. We were at a wedding, but I was more interested in the marriage of my friendships than the husband/wife/betrothal thing that was going on.

Last night two of my friends from high school were in town. E I saw briefly in college, K I haven't seen since we graduated. It amazed me how much she remembered about me from way back, over 20 years ago. Both of them sounded the same and looked the same. We've all had a thousand experiences between then and now, but we're still Us. Most importantly, we're still friends.

I spent today with J. We saw a movie that reminded us a little too uncomfortably of ourselves. If I had to be that sad with anyone, I'm glad it was J. It's only been a couple of years, but I can be my worst self with her and she accepts me. I don't want to be my worst self, but sometimes I need to be and she's okay with it. She's also the funniest person I know and makes me laugh more than almost anyone. On days like today, that means a lot.

Silver and gold. Diamonds and pearls. Hell, even cubic zirconia has a place in my box of friends. I love them all and I will keep them all. They only become more valuable as time goes by.

Thursday, May 26, 2011


Sunday I was in San Diego and went to a Padres game. Fun, but not overly exciting in itself and not what I really want to talk about. It's really all about the guy sitting two seats in front of me.

When he first sat down I said, "Hey, that guy looks like James Franco." The only thing not convincing me were the several gray hairs sprinkled around his head. I thought for sure that a celebrity would cover their gray hair better than that. I'm obsessed with pulling out any that I find and I'm only seen by a handful of people a day, not routinely chased down by paparazzi.

He got up for a bit and the girl he was with was gorgeous (I don't know who she was and don't really care) so that tipped the scale towards it actually being him. And then he smiled. It was, without a doubt, a James Franco smile. And yes, ladies, he is just as hot in person and has a pretty nice body. I should know because I spent the next hour and a half staring at him. From two seats away. Two seats people!!

Yup. My claim to fame and the highlight of my day. Commence jealousy now.

Friday, May 13, 2011

That's Not a Paper Cut

Are any of you old enough to remember the movie Saturday the 14th? It was like one of the original horror spoofs and I thought it was really, really funny. Of course I was like 11 and I think I saw it in a double feature (who remembers those, huh?) after a truly scary movie.

Anyway, I was only thinking about that because as far as Friday the 13ths go, mine was pretty uneventful. Thursday the 12th, now that's a different story.

My book club's reading of Watchmen turned into a Watchmen movie party, which started with an ice cream bar which then added a sandwich bar. We're just a little food-obsessed. Fiona and I made fresh bread. Of course.

MG has some very sharp knives. I have very dull knives. So I was excited to play with his. For about 45 seconds. I got halfway through slicing the first loaf when the shiny, sharp knife slipped off the end of the loaf onto my finger. MG saw it happen and asked if I was okay. I didn't even feel it and my knives leave paper cuts on me, so I was sure that I was okay. But when I looked at it, it was actually pretty deep and I was really not okay. I asked for a band aid and ran it under water. Under water, it looked like a paper cut. But when I took it out to examine it, I saw how deep it really was. I saw white. As in, I saw my fucking BONE! I had to sit down immediately before I passed out. After laughing hysterically so I wouldn't cry.

MC wanted to give me stitches. She's an English teacher, not a doctor. She then tried to convince me to let her crazy glue it. Silly me, I turned down that generous offer too. I was happy with my wine and band aid.

It was two days before I got up the nerve to look at it again. I could only imagine the worst, that it wouldn't have closed up properly and would be a cavernous mess requiring a trip to the ER that I currently can't afford. I wanted a couple of shots of whiskey first. I peeled back my little band aid painstakingly slowly to find a very nicely closed-up little cut. A little bloody, but closed.

Off I went to the store to get myself some more band aids. Mickey Mouse, thank you. I cleaned up my cut and that's when I discovered that part of my finger is quite numb and noticed the jagged shape of the cut. It was a serrated knife.

I'm hoping that the numbness will go away and I haven't done any permanent damage. In the meantime, I've got D doing all the dishes, which doesn't overjoy her as much as it does me. MC is still a little pouty that I wouldn't let her stick a needle in me, but who needs needles when you've got Mickey Mouse? Yeah, I'm a bad ass like that.
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