Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

I've been back from my summer away for nearly two months. I finally put all my jewelry away that had been sitting in a lock box. I'd fish out a piece every now and then, but mostly I'd been wearing the hull I'd pulled out for the summer. That's how these things usually go. Yet, as I pulled the pieces from the box, I wasn't prepared for the memories woven into silver and stone. The black beaded chocker I wore to a friend's Vegas wedding, for which I was the Maid of Honor. She and I don't speak anymore, yet I can't pass on the necklace I've long not worn. It hangs on a back hook in the jewelry case, so I rarely see it. Memories of our twenty-year friendship linger, pervasive, and are here to stay like a roach infestation that baffles the best Orkin man, yet I won't reach out. Read a few posts back, as my heart doesn't have it left in me.     I don't have jewelry from my sister. There's a ring I bought for my Dad to give her. It'...

Sometimes life has a way of becoming a shit show.  A prolonged one.  This past week and a half has been one of those for me.  Some of it involves first world, white people problems like trying to upgrade my phone and encountering corporate robots, the grocery being out of my favorite beer, running out of coffee, and exploding coffee all over my kitchen (yeah, there was coffee on my CEILING).  More problematic things involved nearly everything I touched becoming a prolonged, nightmare of a project; having the fucktards at my CVS pharmacy act like I was a lunatic when I asked for a prescription refill and where the muscle ointment was (seriously, when someone asks for something like an ace bandage and you work in a pharmacy . . . as you say you have to get the manager--after she asks three times--because you are too stupid to respond . . . ); middle aged malarkey; medical hell; and learning that you aren't worth the time, hotel room, or moment away you start to wonder ...

I could lie and tell you in light of the impending Crown Jewel of Hallmark Holidays I replenished my lingerie drawer.  I could.  Yet, like a bad penny that always comes back, I'm too damned honest.  I've been home a whopping three weeks (shocker, I know . . . hold your gasps, it won't be for much longer), and in that time an impressive list of to-dos has been done and an even more surmounting of stitching has been done.   Last year, about to the day, I posted the first (of a few  (or this one  too)) diatribe on bra making.  Then, there was the one post where my Mom and Dad (who apparently read things their daughter writes--who knew!) found out about my newest tattoos.  Yea, that sports bra  and top is like a feat of gravity in and of its own . . . though, the final frontier is a strapless.  I heard a rumor of one being released this year, and let's just say if that happens I'm all about that.  No lie.   Anywho . . . L...