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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, pretty paws.
I Love My Pants 16-July-2005 6:11 a.m.
Outside my window there is the most glorious tree with pinkish-lavender blooms. Every time I look at it I want to eat it. Or just chew the petals, because the pink goodness might actually be gum. Maybe I'll just move my stuff and live in that tree. I'll never have to buy gum again. I would love to live in a tree house. Sometimes I imagine my house is way up in a tall tree, shaded by lush green leaves, securely embraced by smooth, cool branches. Other times I pretend this house is a houseplane, similar to a houseboat. It flies and floats, it's that good. It takes the whole front yard and backyard with it, because it's neat to be able to swim in the pool and skateboard on the driveway when you're soaring through the sky. And it never crashes because I say it doesn't. In this houseplane I go everywhere, and whenever I land, people are always pretty glad I did because they've never seen anything like this spectacular aircraft.
I have imagined that stuff since I was a kid. There is never a good reason to be bored if you use your imagination. There is also never a good reason to eat creamed herring. Never, I tell you.
I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you that I pretty much only wear men's pants. (Obtained from the men's section of some store; not previously owned by men.) And I buy them a few sizes too big so they rest on my hips and are always really bloody long. I roll them up if they threaten to drag on the ground, because that whole business of letting one's pants drag and collect nasties from the floor of the world is just disgusting. Yeah, I've got a good size love affair going with big, comfortable men's pants and have a whole collection of them to prove it.
Beneath my man pants I wear boxers, because boxers + big pants = heaven. Ladies, if you have never tried this delicious combination, I can safely say you are truly missing the tugboat. I look around at all the chicks dressed in those tightass pants that everyone and their Aunt Nanny are wearing these days and think, man, you dames don't know comfort. There is nothing like it, aside from being naked. And what gives with the sad, sad pocket depth of women's pants? The last pair I tried on, I could fit maybe half of each hand in the pockets. What the hell? What good is that? I like a pocket I can carry stuff in, like my favourite stones, some gum, maybe a notepad. A typewriter, if needed.
Another great thing about wearing my man pants is that I know when I go out I'm not going to be dressed in what just about every other woman is wearing. I dig that. It's always fun to see another woman who seems to be following her own sense of style over what's fashionable. The other day when I was out I saw a mom with her four daughters; three of them were wearing the usual garb most young girls wear these days, which closely resembled what their mom had on, but the fourth girl stuck out like a lighthouse on a black night. She was wearing boys' jeans and a boys' surfer t-shirt. It was a treat to see that, especially now that we seem to have thicker lines set up than ever before between the two genders.
I sometimes get people looking at me funny when I take out my wallet, which happens to be a billfold designed for men only. No ladies allowed, as there are no petunias stitched into the leather, no butterfly or heart or ladybug. They look at me like, don't you know you're a girl? I do. I really do. I even have all the software to prove it, but isn't it just a wallet?
I guess it looks more like something a man would take out of his pocket than something a woman would take out of her purse. I bought it five years ago when I couldn't find a ladies' wallet I liked. It totally fits inside the pocket of my man pants. Score.
You know, speaking of gender, I spent a good portion of my last year of high school fantasizing that I was a guy. I have no idea why, I just did. I imagined myself to be this totally cute dude who drove a Jeep and was a gentleman at all times. I always walked chicks to the door and stuff. I was never a dick, and I kicked the asses of guys who were. I wish we could switch genders whenever we felt like it. It would really come in handy when walking out to my car in a dark parking lot, or when needing some type of information at a store from a male employee who clearly only feels comfortable talking to other men.
I still imagine I am a man sometimes, for whatever reason. Don't get me wrong, I adore being a woman and have said several times that if reincarnation exists—and I believe it does—I want to be a woman in every subsequent lifetime. It's true, I do. But it's still fun to imagine.
I'm just sitting here sipping some ultra-delicious organic mint tea. I am wondering why I don't give a fuck who Tom Cruise is pretending to date. Or what Angelina Jolie did yesterday. And why do I even know who Paris Hilton is? Sometimes I don't feel a part of anything, and sometimes that's not such a bad thing.
I just bought a new Canon digital camera to replace the old Sony Mavica, which apparently is extinct at this point. Haven't fired it up yet, but I'm really excited about it. I'll be doing a photo essay on honesty. There won't be any pictures, but you can say you see them even though you don't.
And here, for your enjoyment, are a few notable things people were lookin' for that brought them to this site.
boob sipping I remember when oxygen bars were all the rage.
knickers on parade When they get up and walk away on their own, ninety percent of the time they're in search of a parade.
equipment needed for walking the world Determination. An MP3 player would be helpful too.
cookies need love like everybody does Couldn't agree more. Chew lovingly.
piano cramps Yeah, it's a bummer. I woke up and saw my poor piano all hunched over in pain the other morning. Opened up the top and tossed in a bottle of Midol. Good as new. And friendlier too.
wear mouth guard playing the piano If you believe you're in some particular danger of damaging your teeth whilst tickling the ivories, please take every precaution known to humankind. It's all about feeding the fear, you know. I read somewhere that Jerry Lee Lewis broke a tooth playing "Great Balls Of Fire" for a group of friends.
addiction to bouncing in the car to music To keep the fear alive, please refer to this most enjoyable pastime as an "addiction." Start a support group if you must.
big boobs piano And don't think she doesn't like to show them off when we have company. We started out with "Mary Had A Little Lamb" and now this.
fat nose jiggly head Hey! Find something nice to say about me.
Old Pillow are Bad Yes. And Chocolate Cream Tart is Good.
what does a boob look like? Go to Google Images and type in "Tom Cruise."
way too sexy women Call the proper authorities. These women are too sexy to even look at for one second; it'll burn out your corneas. Resist, I tell you. Resist.
how can I fix gingivitis myself If you smoke, quit. Massage your gums gently once a day with Vitamin E oil. Rinse your mouth daily with cayenne pepper in warm water to stimulate your gums (just enough pepper to make it a bit uncomfortable—your gums should pulsate slightly afterward). Floss, for the love of something sacred—every day. Stop bleaching your teeth if you're into that. Y'all who make a habit of that goofy activity are going to wish you hadn't. Brush gently in small, circular motions, holding your toothbrush (soft bristles!) at a 45 degree angle to the gum line, not side to side.
Hello. I am now officially your mouth agony aunt. Hear me roar.
Quote From My World
"What note are you talking about?"
"I don't know; my feet are edgy."
Well, I'm off to read about my new camera so I can thrill you with pictures of my piano's knockers. I really shouldn't exploit her like that, but I'm just getting her back for chipping my tooth that time a hundred years ago while I was learning the theme from Ice Castles. Beware of temperamental uprights. Thanks for reading.
Linda
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