2004-01-17 @ 6:41 p.m.
|Anyone ever have one of those uncontrollable urges to do a "Footloose" dance sequence down the center aisle of the local Goodwill store? Just cut loose and do a couple of back flips and rolls and somersaults amidst the 1980 cowl neck sweaters?
I sure did today. Boy, I just heard that song playing over the loudspeaker, and I just wanted to set my purse aside and start flipping and flopping, and falling down and probably spraining something. I guess I was just so excited to be shopping among the upper echelon of Goodwill.
Of course, I was with my mother. That may have had something to do with it. She kept showing me stuff that I wouldn't have worn...even in 1979. We...or rather I, decided we were going to have The Ugly Awards. The clothes most likely to inspire hives. Of course I didn't tell her about my new game show, until she had shown me at least 5 articles of clothing that fit the criteria. I think she finally got the idea, when I turned into Regan from "The Exorcist" and my head spun repeatedly.
I didn't even need any clothes to be nominated for The Ugly Award today. I would have aced the contest just by getting out of bed. I was trying to think of things to blame it on.
PMS? Nope. I just finished the monthly blood letting. Menopause? Hell, I don't know. My body is really confused. Two months of periods. Eight months without periods. One month with a period. Two months without a period. What the fuck AM I?
Your guess is as good as mine.
I guess we could also blame the bipolar thing. That's easy. Happy...bipolar. Sad...bipolar. Crazily cleaning my toilet with a toothbrush at 1 a.m.....definitely Bipolar.
I was just a miserable puss today though. I even warned my mom when she wanted to take me to lunch. I'm cranky. I don't feel like doing anything. I'm grumpy. But she insisted. She's used to me. She did give birth to me after all.
And then there was that freakin' Trans Am in the grocery store parking lot that nearly ran me over. All I saw was this fast moving "God Bless America" bumper sticker racing towards me, as some dipshit was flooring it in reverse. I had to dive out of the way just to avoid getting hit.
What is this? Lets hit Wittykitty in the parking lot week? Can you at least wait until I get into my insured car? If I can get enough cars to hit me, maybe I can consider my car totaled and get something new...like a 1995 Ford Escort.
Probably the high point of my day was getting an e-mail from Married Guy. He was supposed to go to the Big Apple this weekend, but a sick kid threw a monkey wrench into the plan. I was glad because we had really bad weather last night and I was concerned about him driving in it. He may be a big macho New York driving MAN, but slippery roads are no match for any driver no matter how big your stick shift is. He said he hoped to see me soon.
Me too sweetie. I need a hug. And maybe I can also talk to him about sponsoring The Ugly Awards. Who knows, it may be the next great idea on the Reality Show horizon.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty