WHAT’S PLAYING: Salt-n-Pepa feat. En Vogue “Whatta Man”
The other day, I learned the hard way that—despite the black belts I’ve earned and the tough-girl image I try so hard to project to the world—when it comes to the creepy and downright bizarre, all my kick-assery flies out the window leaving nothing but a 6’2” crybaby.
This epiphany occurred while I was watching Cowboys and Aliens with some friends. I was fine until the alien’s body opened up to unleash a second set of hidden, gooey, three-fingered hands. My friends laughed.
Me? I went apeshit.
I scrambled as far away from the television as I could, squeezed my eyes shut, and alternated between grabbing at my friends and slapping their hands away, all the while shrieking, “No! No! No!”
Not my finest moment.
My friends weathered the storm as best they could—letting me know when the “scary” part was over, and then scattering to the far ends of the room whenever the gooey alien hands showed up.
Now, besides, yet another irrational fear to add to my long, long lists of phobias, I’ve decided to add another weapon to my arsenal.
I just have to figure out what to say to the bank when “chainsaw-katana” shows up on my credit card bill.
WHAT’S PLAYING: Nothing
I had planned on writing about fear or something equally relevant to writing and my journey, but I’m afraid my crazy schedule has finally caught up with me. The symptoms started late last night and got steadily worse. Right now, I’m writing this in between forcing orange juice, Thera-flu, and chicken soup down my sore throat.
The good thing about being sick is that I finally get a chance to take a breath and notice all the ridiculous things out there. Right now, I’m watching an infomercial for Max Tall shoe inserts otherwise known as lifts. I’m listening to the announcer tell me how statistics prove being tall means more confidence, more attention, and more success. Who the hell forgot to tell me?
I’m six-two. Have been since I was sixteen, and all it’s gotten me is a lot of stares and questions about whether or not I played basketball. Oh, and my favorite: “You’re tall!”
Like I don’t already know.
Then there’s the “Forever Lazy”, which is sort of like a full body “Snuggie“. The commercial features several actors out and about wearing fleece pajamas complete with flaps in front and back for easy access.
I wonder if these kinds of commercials were made for people like me. A captive audience so to speak. Too sick to leave the house. Too bored to turn off the TV.
Maybe it’s the fever, but I’ve already ordered a full set of Ginsu knives. I don’t know if I’ll ever have to slice through a tomato and a tin can in the same day, but at least now, I’ll be ready.
And nice and warm in my new fleece pjs.