When I hear someone give a compliment, I say thank you- even if it’s not meant for me. It often confuses the compliment-giver and makes them say, “Oh, I meant I like Laura’s hair”. But yours looks good too.” Then I actually end up getting a compliment. Sha-BAMMM.
I finished my Chelsea Handler “My Horizontal Life” book today.
It is my book because I purchased it for $14.95 [minus the discount I got for my sister being a Barnes &Noble club member] My sister wasn’t with me, I instead asked the cashier if I could give her my phone number to look up the card. She said, “sure”.
A couple months ago, I was at the register paying for things at the drug store and said, “Can I give you my number?” The woman looked at me and said, “What?!”, in a high pitched scream. She was a big-set woman.
“Because I forgot my CVS card,” I told her. She seemed confused. I then looked towards the front door and saw a “Walgreens” sign.
“Oh”, I said as if I just realized …
“Yes, Ma’am this is a Walgreens,” she replied, “You can still give me your phone number though.” She winked.
“I actually don’t own a phone number,” I told her and left.
I had mixed feelings about Chelsea Handler’s “My Horizontal Life” A Collection of One-Night Stands. A small part of me [say my foot] thought it was over the top and vulgar, but a bigger part of me [say my torso and head] was inspired by it, interested by it, and laughed out loud about four times while reading it. I give a writer props if their book make me laugh out loud- props that include a candle from “Beauty and the Beast” on broadway, or a Morocco from “The Lion King” on Broadway, or say an alien light beam from “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” put on by FU [Fairfield University] Theater.
Today was the first day the barista at Starbucks looked at my face and remembered my order.
“Tall iced chai tea, light ice”, she said to me holding a marker close to the plastic cup.
“Yes”, I said, with a quiver in my voice, “you remembered.”
I stepped away, turned my back from her, and cried for three minutes.
She arrived to me with a slightly scared look on her face. I reassured her that yes, it was me, her sister. I took off the cat mask I was wearing and brought her into my office. By “my office” I mean my bosses office. My boss was gone for the afternoon the first time my family first visited and I somehow convinced them I got promoted and was the Director of Production.
I brought my sister to lunch to our cafeteria. It’s our cafeteria because I purchased it for seven hundred thousand dollars. I had leftover sushi [a love roll] from the previous night. It wasn’t horrible, but I wouldn’t eat sushi the next day again. Maybe I will. Who knows what the gods of fate have in store for me. I’m not saying I’m a polytheist, I just like the phrase “gods of fate”. I realize you probably don’t know what kind of sushi a “love roll” is [unless you’re bridget, emily, kate, mary kate, or kristen etc. or an avid lover of Nakata] I don’t even really know what’s in a love roll.
I’d like to think my sister had a good time visiting me at work. I think she’s obsessed with me. Not only does she have pictures of her and I from all different ages of our life in her room and cooks dinner for me sometimes, but she called me today asking for my phone number. I had to tell her “I don’t actually own a phone.” Which doesn’t say much about her, because we were talking on the phone in the first place. Shoutout sistah.