Yesterday at the Nail Shop, fun was had by all. All of my fingers, my toes, my eyebrows and my VAGINA had fun! Well, maybe not my vagina. I have really reclaimed that word........vagina.......and the object in question. But that's a whole other story. What I am going to tell you now is how embarrassing and painful the whole waxing process was.
Yesterday was my second time getting a bikini wax. The first time was like five weeks ago and with a different person than yesterday. So yesterday I start to take off my pants and then my underwear when the waxer got freaked and stammered, "Leave underwear on!" Well, the other lady had asked me to strip and I lay there all exposed and at the time I thought it was weird. Turns out, maybe that was weird. I had already stripped in front of waxer number two and I was so embarrassed and felt like she thought I was a perv. I laughed nervously and pulled them back on. UGH! Horrifying.
I was starting to get my composure back when she proceeded to spread hot wax down there and then ripped my hairs out. This particular waxer didn't speak much English and definitely had lost all compassion for the wax-ee. So, when I jumped and said, "Wow, that really hurt." She just kept going. My eyes were watering and my head was repeating the same sentence over and over, "God, please kill me." But he did not and I endured the pain. Okay, so this process only takes like ten minutes. But it felt like an hour. I am such a drama queen.
You know what is even weirder? I will go back again. I will have this process done every four to six weeks. And every time it will hurt like hell and every time I will complain. But one thing is for sure, next time I will, "Leave underwear on!" Oh yes.
I'm still sick. Today I didn't even bother with going to work. Just called in as soon as my alarm went off and did the sick voice on my boss's voicemail. But this time, I wasn't faking it. It sucks being home sick. I always want my Mom to come take care of me. Do you know how disturbing that is? I'm 38. That's in years, people. 38 years. I am pathetic.
So, I have decided to go to my local Nail Shop. The happiest place in the world. I love it there. I will get a manicure and a pedicure. Then I will have them wax my eyebrows and my you know what. My secret place. Again, 38 YEARS. I can't even say vagina. Hey, I said it. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina. I better quit saying that or else my gay boy readers will throw up. Or the Lord will strike me dead. The Lord doesn't like Vagina. Maybe he's one of the gay boys. Now it all makes sense.
I am off to my happy place. I hope you are all well. I encourage you to do what I have done today:
1. Call in sick.
2. Say Vagina.
3. Be a heathen and call the Lord a gay boy.
I went home early yesterday because my stomach was a mess and I was tired. Most people would have stayed at work but I didn't feel like it. I am such a whiner. "Ow, my stomach hurts. I can't work, ow!" This morning I found out that a friend of mine spent all day yesterday in the emergency room because she couldn't BREATHE! Ok, so there is ow my stomach on the one hand and the whole I can't breathe over here. Wtf? Of course, I really didn't feel well and it's fine that I went home but the comparison to my friend’s day just made me look like such a whiner. I have been officially one-upped.
The stomach pains continued through the night, though. Again I tossed and turned. I had a dream that Scott (a friend and tattoo artist extraordinare) was giving me advice on love and life. We were walking through a forest but there were tons of fancy cars surrounding us as well as trees. He was so gentle and kind as he gave examples about his love life to explain the path of which he spoke. He was talking about very personal things in my life with specific details that in real life he doesn't know. Then he presented a path to me like Vanna White presents a vowel. I took the path and he smiled and waved goodbye.
Wow, my guardian angel is a huge bearded tattooed guy. That is so freakn' cool.
I just remembered a part of that dream from before. I was in the bathroom putting on my makeup when I would hear the people coming in through the unlocked back door. I could clearly see myself in the mirror. I was wearing one of those old 50's style chenille robes. It was pink and beautiful. I was opening and closing it and admiring it's beauty when I remembered that I already have a robe and that this was a frivolous purchase. What was I thinking? (Door slamming). There is a look of fear in my face as I run to see who is in my house. See below. posted by The Closet Shopper at 1:22 PM
I am exhausted from thrashing about in bed last night. Very little sleep. One dream: There were people from my past in rooms of my house. When I would ask them how they got in they all said the same thing. "The back door was unlocked." I used to have a fear of going to bed and the doors weren’t locked. I still have this fear, but I used to have to get up a couple of times to make sure that they were locked. Obsessive compulsive much? Why...........yes. But in this dream, the random people that just happened to be hanging out in my house? They were all mad at me. Noone smiled. They were just mad. AT ME! If you know me you know that I am the biggest codependent and so I hate when anyone is mad at me. So, I guess this dream would qualify as a nightmare. I also remember that in my dream, I took each person to a hotel because I didn't have enough room in my house. I should also say that each one of these people were dressed in long white gowns and were sort of floating instead of standing or walking. That is all of that freaky dream that I remember.
I got up late and got to work late, so I am grumpy today and mad at myself. Just like those assholes in my dream were mad at me. But I don't really care. Maybe I am no longer co-dependent. You mad? So!
I LOVE gay men. Last night my favorite flamboyant black queen came to coffee with us and he brought HIS favorite flamboyant black queen friend. And, oh my god, those girls are a MESS! They were so loud and funny and I thought I would die from laughter. I LOVE gay men.
As a result of all that happiness I had the following dream last night:
I was in a lodge that had windows from the floor to the ceiling. Through the windows you could see planes flying by, snow covered mountains, beaches, and other random stuff. In the lodge we were having some sort of meeting and the majority of the people in the meeting were gay men. There were a few straight people. Like this one girl who was dressed in a powder blue turtleneck and tight tan ski pants and she had blonde hair. Her hair was wet and at one point she took out a hair dryer and started drying her hair. This didn’t seem to disturb the meeting. Anyway, my favorite flamboyant black queen was there with me. He and I were being catty and making comments about everyone. We were mostly talking about the guy who was leading the meeting. He was proclaiming to be straight and my friend and I were laughing about how this guy didn’t know he was gay. I mean, he was wearing a tight belly shirt, and short short jean shorts with a slit cut up the side. The clincher was when he walked past us and the back of his shorts were hiked up all thong like. And here is the funny part, his ass was COVERED with hair. EWWWWWWWWWW! So we lost it and laughed till we wet ourselves.
So my happiness went on through the night. I LOVE gay men.
So, I’m at the gym at lunchtime. I am doing 30 minutes on the rowing machine. The machines face the racket ball courts. The one that I am facing has a guy in it that I will hereafter refer to as Rico Suave. He is alone and he is super sweaty and only playing for the effect it may have on others. He is flexing constantly and using awkward ballet moves to swing at the ball. Often glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone is looking. Me? Looking uninterested and NOT looking at him. I guess that must have upset him because he starts being more exaggerated in his movement and making sex noises while he’s playing. Ok, NOW I have to stop myself from laughing. Sucking in my lips so that I can hold it in. PAINFUL I tell you…..painful. That was only 5 minutes into my workout. At about 8 minutes in, right when Luther Vandross was singing to me “A thousand kisses from you is NevAH to muowuch” my freakn’ radio died. UGH! I love that song. I am such a music dweeb. Love the R&B love songs. “Girl, that’s my song!” So, now I am not distracted and am more focused on Rico Suave because there isn’t anything to do. No more music! 15 minutes in and Rico really wants some attention so he comes to the glass facing me, puts his hands up as if he is being frisked, and rests all the while looking right at me. EWWWWW! I of course, ignored him. In your face, Rico! You are NOT all that. So then I decided to focus on all the sounds around me. The guy on the treadmill beside me, “Clomp. Clomp. Whish.” The voice on the loud speaker calling the next person to the Precor, “Alissa, to the precor. Steve to the precor. Last call, Alissa to the precor.” The step aerobics instructor, “And up and over two three four and Up two and lunge. Harder ladies.” I was absorbing all of this and didn’t even notice that Rico had exited. Mission accomplished. And all of those sounds started to coalesce and made their own rhythm. It went a little something like this. “ Clomp, whish, last call Steve to the precor. Harder Ladies. Bump Bump. Clomp. Up and over. Whish.” And then my 30 minutes were up and I was through with that part of my workout. I just felt inspired to write about it. posted by The Closet Shopper at 1:51 PM
Instead of getting up at 6am to go to the gym, I decided to just go at lunchtime. My point is that I went back to sleep for another hour. And in that hour I had a dream, or a stream of unconsciousness. We were late for a movie. Ian and I were parked in a parking lot surrounded by cars. No real parking spaces. It looked like someone had taken a handful of cars and just threw them on the lot. A real mess. There was a guy handing out these tall oscillating fans. We took a couple. We got into a couple of fistfights with faceless people. We ran up carpeted stairs to pay for the movie. I asked Ian if he had any money and he said he didn’t and neither did I. Ian was really short during this part of the dream, like to my knees. Whoa. So, we just had to get back in the car and leave. I smashed into a Minivan in my attempt to get out of the non-space and instead of leaving a note, we just put our oscillating fans in their car and took off. As a sign of good will? What a weird dream. I hope no one ever tries to analyze it. This dream was directed by David Lynch. Like all of my dreams. Too weird. I think there is something wrong with me.
There was another dream in the middle of the night, but all I remember is that there was someone in it wearing a really bright yellow hoodie. I wonder what they were doing wearing that? If I can remember anything else I will post it later.
On Monday night I had a fitful sleep. I drank a tea called “sleepy slumber” with valerian root, chamomile, and peppermint before bed. I went right off to sleep and here was the result. I dreamed that I was in the country in Texas. My grandfather had just died and I was crying uncontrollably. I was walking down a long path that became a road the whole time heaving a cry that hurt my chest and my throat. I had a spoon and I occasionally bent over and scraped tar off the road. I heard in the distance a similar cry. It was my mother. She was following me and crying as hard as I was. I went to her and held her. That is all I remember from the dream. Apparently I was whimpering in my sleep because I woke up to Ian saying, “I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.” And then he held me for the rest of the night. God, I love that man. He always knows the right thing to do, and then he actually does it.
Last night I was jolted awake by the phone ringing at 1:45AM. The phone ringing sound was in my dream and then I was awake and the phone really was ringing. Surreal. Whoever it was didn’t leave a message, and for some weird reason my caller ID didn’t record the number. So, we will never know who the loser is that called last night and disturbed my slumber. And it was a good one too. The slumber that is. I eventually was able to go back to sleep. And I had a lot of dreams. Now is when that notebook beside the bed would have come in handy. I remember nada. So there you have it.
This morning I was stuck in traffic for one hour on my way to work. Most of that time I was at a dead stop. But that didn’t deter people from trying to get in front of me. “We’re at a dead stop, you aren’t going to get there any faster if you get in front of me.” Oh, and I love the people who REFUSE to let on-ramp traffic merge. What is with these people? I just don’t get it. Even when there is no traffic, there are always people traveling in the slow lane who would rather hit you than go into the next *empty* lane and let you merge safely. It boggles the mind. I just want to say to all those angry people on the road. Please take a chill pill. Let it go! Smile, will ya?
Compliments I was given this weekend that I will now forget and resume self-loathing:
I was at a wedding on Saturday. The bride's mother was introducing me to some of her family. Auntie Barbara was introduced to me and she exclaimed, "I was looking at you from across the way and I thought, she looks like Raquel Welch! You do, you look like a young Raquel Welch." Well, that was a first. Raquel Welch? Oh my good Lord! I turned bright red in like a second. I could feel my head swelling and a smile taking over my face. You could tell that my husband was feeling some pride too, winking at me and smiling. Eyebrows raised. Maybe he was just picturing the real Raquel Welch in his mind. No matter, it looked like he was all proud to be with me. That is what I choose to believe. Remember, I will resume my self-loathing in a minute. GAW! So the strangers at my table then decided to call me Raquel for the rest of the night. I must say, I didn't mind. Hee hee. So anyway, when we were leaving the photographer lady came up to me and proceeded to say some very strange things. She told me that she had been "observing" me. Who says that? And better yet, who *does* that? She said, "I've been observing you tonight and you are such a nice person. You are upbeat and sweet and have a smile for everyone. You are truly genuine." What do you say to that? I just stammered out a thank you and got my Raquel Welch-lookin' ass the hell out of there. It was nice and all, but huh?
Then, my husband and I went to our favorite fancy vegan restaurant last night to celebrate our twelve-year wedding anniversary. While the hostess was seating us, she looked back at me and she said, "You're Tracy Miller?" Yes, I said, thinking, do I know her? Then she says,"You guys have been married for 12 years? When did you get married, when you were in grade school?" My husband and I blushed and laughed. I believe Ian, my husband, said that she was correct that we most certainly did get married in grade school. Another laugh. I was curious to how she knew we were celebrating 12 years of marriage, so I wondered this out loud to Ian. Apparently he had called ahead to get them to do something special for me during dessert. So she kind of gave away the surprise. Oh well, it was still super romantic. Thank you, baby. And thanks to the hostess with the odd scratch on her neck for complimenting us on our youthful appearance.
I have now resumed self-loathing. Okay, after reliving that for you, I am a bit pumped. Maybe I will deflate later in the day. I'll let you know.
I was hanging out with my college friend Samantha. We were on a cruise ship but it never left the dock — more like a ship-shaped hotel. It was current day, but Samantha still had her big '80s hair. She also had lots of wrinkles and was kind of ugly. In real life Samantha has perfect skin and is beautiful. Ex-model and all. So, in the dream I couldn't concentrate on anything she was saying to me because I was staring at her, horrified. Also, her husband was being a dick. Now, I was in their wedding, but I don't really know this guy, so I don't know if he is or isn't a dick. But in my dream he was being a colossal dick. Samantha was smoking and bitching the whole time. Then without explanation, we were on a huge hill and we were playing with many beautiful dogs. The dogs were running toward me and right before they got to me they turned into rats. Luckily I have had rats for pets, so even in the dream I was unafraid. I just played with all the lovely rats. And that's all I can remember. I better start writing that shit down as soon as I wake up because I know there was more than that.
Y’know, when I woke up I thought that dream was cool. I just read over it and I realized that it was boring as hell. Sorry to everyone who took time out of their day to read this. I will try harder this weekend and maybe I will have something interesting to write about on Monday. posted by The Closet Shopper at 10:22 AM
Thursday, June 13, 2002
AHHHHHH! The most awful thing happened last night. I dozed into a wonderful sleep without any difficulty. No, that's not the awful thing, silly. The awful thing is that I woke up from the most genius dream at like 5:30AM and I thought to myself, "Cool, I'll have something to write about tomorrow. Yawn. Stretch. I HAVE to remember this....zzzzzzzzzzz." So, you guessed it. I can't remember anything except that I was Elaine from Seinfeld in the dream. Not the actress, but Elaine the character on the show. I loved her. She was the BEST part of the show by far. Some people even say I look like her. I don't really. I am just white, have a pointy chin, and I'm wicked short. Those are the only resemblances.
I also get compared to every white, red-headed actress there ever was, from Bernadette Peters to Sidney from Melrose Place. Other actress comparisons always preceded by, "You look like a young...": Ann Margaret, Jane Fonda, and Priscilla Presley. All laughable comparisons, because I look nothing like ANY of them. Just white with red hair. But recently I have been compared to Britney Spears. WHOA. I WISH!!! Sorry to say, but she is one hott piece. Now, that comment was made by two separate people who were both under the age of 17. Children say the darndest things. And sometimes it makes old people feel great.
What is this evil joke that your God/Goddess/Devil is playing on me? Why can't I just have an uninterrupted nights sleep? Apparently that is too much to ask. So, here is what I suffered last night.
I again went to bed at 9:30 or so.
9:30-10:15: Just normal restlessness.
10:15-10:45: Neighbor guy. Okay, so the way our house is set up. Our bedroom is on the same side as the neighbor’s driveway. Who was the wicked-smart a-hole who constructed that? Anyway, neighbor guy who I shall call Greg. Because that is his name. "Greg" decides to open and close his janky ass garage door over and over and over. His garage holds much junk. No cars. His driveway holds like six cars. But the garage (the place where CARS go) only holds random piles of junk. But I digress. Not only was he opening and closing the very loud broken sounding garage door but it sounds like he is taking a piece of metal and a hammer and smashing them together. Why didn't I say something to "Greg" you might ask? I don't know. I'm an idiot. Also I wouldn't have anything to write about, would I? So, shut it!
10:25: During the whole loud neighbor shit where I was tossing and turning and being oh so aware of the sweet sound asleepness of my husband. grrr. How does he do it? He can sleep through anything. Me? Jealous. Anyway, the phone starts ringing at like 10:25. Everyone who knows us knows that we get up at 6AM, so if we can we are in bed no later than 10PM. It is a bit embarrassing seeing that in print. My husband has an ad for a singer and so, this singer dude thought it would be ok to call at 10:25. Here is what I think I heard coming from the answering machine. "Hey, I am really interested in coming to check you guys out tomorrow night. That works for me....blah blah blah." I hope he sucks and doesn't get the gig!
So, I have no idea what time I actually fell asleep because after all of this happened, I lay there plotting the deaths of "Greg" and the "singer dude." And I can't remember one damned dream.
Things that kept me awake till midnight even though I went to bed at 9:30 PM.
1)Premenstrual back pain. Why? Isn't it bad enough that I have cramps for 4 days topped with inexplicable anxiety prior to the actual menstrual and THEN bleed nonstop for 5 days miraculously without dying? Isn't it????!!!
and.....
2)My husband wanted to leave the windows open all night because it was so wicked hot. The result was that I was so afraid of someone coming in through the window and killing us, that I heard every noise that the wind and the cats made and imagined our horrible murders. Finally at around midnight, I closed the windows. I had suffered long enough.
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When I finally went into slumber, I had many dreams but I only remember bits of each one. Here are the highlights that I remember.
1) Dream: I was at the pharmacy and the pharmacist was irritated that I was bothering her. She was out of my particular brand of birth control and wouldn't have it until next week. That was fine with me and I was being sweet to her but she was still playing the scene out as if this information had upset me. She began to throw drugs around and curse. That is all I remember.
Reality: I have to drop off my birth control prescription to the pharmacy this week. I hope the pharmacist isn't going to be like the one in my dream.
2) Dream: I was driving a car. Sometimes the car would fly, like down cliffs and stuff. I had a passenger. Don't know who they were. Saw a carjacking and as we were driving by we noticed that the carjacker guy was holding a gun to the head of the car owner. My car slowed down even though I had the pedal pressed all the way down. The carjacker guy then shot at us. When we finally got passed him, I noticed that my passenger (don't know who this person was. don't even know what gender) had been shot. There was blood at the corner of her/his/its mouth. Just like the movies. So we drove/flew off and then suddenly we were running on foot through like stadium bleachers or something. That is all I remember.
Reality: Nothing in my life can compare to this. Thank (insert religious icon here).
3) Dream: Someone was punching me in the stomach. That is all I remember.
Reality: Woke up with a painful need to urinate. It was 5:45. Fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to pop. I HATE that!!!
So, all night long I had those recurring dreams where someone, faceless no name someone, is hanging out in my room staring at me. I jerk and moan and wake up. Then I realize that I'm not actually awake and jerk and moan until I wake up. Ad infinitum. My husband is so kind. During these times of sleeplessness, he will often console me and tell me that all is well and that he will protect me. My body relaxes, I am full up with love and safety, but my husband is no match for the evil darkness. It always wins. posted by The Closet Shopper at 9:01 AM
Friday, June 28, 2002
