more avoidance

when i'm tense, i make lists. or i clean.

the curse of negativity

if i say to my mother, "i don't like ______," i am informed that this is a "burden on my soul." however this information does not help me reach nirvana as i'm sure my mother intended. instead i leave the conversation burdened with the irrefutable knowledge that my soul is asphyxiating under the accumulating weight of my persistent dislikes. moreover, not liking _______ is clearly my fault. if i could only be persuaded to like my tenth grade english teacher, or pantyhose, you know? i would live so much longer.

lapse in logic

my entire foot was throbbing, so i called my doctor-friend.
"hey, i hate to be that girl who calls you with a health concern, but i just don't know who else to ask."
"what's wrong?"
"it's my foot. it's been hurting since last wednesday, and it's not getting better."
"well, let's see, you mentioned that you went dancing saturday, and sunday too, right? have you been dancing since then?"
"um, i also practiced monday, and i'm going to practice right now."
"and you're asking me why your foot isn't getting better?"

PMS?

while waiting for my ride to pick me up at the corner of Haight and Ashbury, i ducked into this dive bar to use the restroom. there was a long line, and i took a long time. i took so long that the guy behind me started rattling the door handle, so i think it's safe to assume he was pissed and i admit -- reasonably so.
as i was leaving, a guy who had been watching from the bar stopped me and said, "you took a really long time."
"i know," i replied, "i'm really sorry."
he pointed his index finger at my shoulder,"don't be a whore. " he repeated, "you shouldn't be such a whore."
i walked out without answering. but i was incredibly upset, more than i should have been considering that the comment was from a stringy-haired, bug-eyed, most likely drunk man in a nearly abandoned bar. maybe it was PMS, or maybe i just don't like being called a whore.