Like 86.7% of America 1, I sometimes want to be wealthy, famous and adored-by-all. I only tell you this right off the bat so you can immediately feel better about yourself for wanting the same OR think you’re better than me for not caring in the least of such triviality.
We’ve all seen what being wealthy, famous and adored-by-all gets you. Sometimes it’s first-class service, sometimes it’s annoying and sometimes it makes you feel lower than the most anonymous person in the world. Since I have been on the peripheral of all those, my stories contain wealthy, famous and adored people, as well as those of which you’ve never heard. But, mainly, my stories are probably just like the stories you’d write about your own life. And, just as in your life, you’ve been scared, embarrassed, aroused, saddened, thrilled, angered, maybe vomitous and definitely bored.
I have always thought of myself as nauseatingly normal, yet in every instance where I have tried to be like everyone else, my choices/thoughts/life have veered me against the “should.” Several years ago, I began to compile my stories for a memoir I was going to entitle “Just Another Memoir; Stories of a Girl Who Looks Like Someone You Know.” But I am a fatalist, and I know there is no way anyone would care about publishing this shit. So I’m putting them on my website…for lurkers who hang out at libraries for the free internet. ENJOY!
**For best results:
I use footnotes alot….as you can see below.
I refer to my husband, Mark, in many of my stories, but he wanted to be known as “Rodolfo.” Don’t ask me why. However, that’s too long to type every time, so I will call him “Rod.” Although I want you to know, I would’ve never married someone named “Rod.” But if your name is Rod, please don’t be insulted as I’m sure you’re VERY nice and handsome.
All stories are self-contained and are not listed chronologically or purposefully. Read none, read ‘em all. I won’t know the difference.
- I have no evidence of this, but the number came to me in the shower…and it sounded about right. Upon further research, like asking other people, I am still certain of this number. ↩
When I was little, my dad and I would have tickle fights. If you can imagine me as a cute hysterically giggling girl1, as my dad “counted my ribs” or asked “who wants to have a tickle fight, raise your hand!,” then you could understand why it didn’t take long for me to pee…just a little…in my pants. Read more »
- I can’t. I am pretty much dead inside now. I hope you can though…for the sake of my story. ↩
Over five years ago, my mom had breast cancer. I note how long it’s been because she is a survivor and has not shown any signs of the cancer returning since then. However, I’m sure it’s something that is on her mind often because it’s certainly on mine.
Earlier this year, I had my annual physical and, since my doctor knows about my mother’s history, she recommended I get a mammogram…just to be safe. I had actually had one a few years before because of my mom’s condition, but that showed up clear. So I figured I had little to worry about this year, too. I was only 34 years old. 1 Read more »
- Important note in case this story has bored you to tears already and you’re about to click away. Your age does NOT determine whether you will get cancer or not. There. I warned you. ↩
I was always a big fan of the British Invasion, so when Rod said we had been invited to dinner by Gordon Waller, of Peter and Gordon fame, I insisted that we go. 1 Who cares that Rod hadn’t talked to Gordon since 1967 and had no idea why he contacted him out of the blue. It was an English guy who had a mere two degrees of separation from Paul McCartney! Read more »
- This longing to be near fame is what got all the children and their families in trouble with Michael Jackson back in the day. When you “want” to be around famous people, you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Therefore, be forewarned, if you are invited to a celebrity’s house, think long and hard about “why” you want to go, and then go anyway. Just don’t sign any confidentiality agreement. ↩
I had just, barely, graduated college and was thrust upon this big, scary world to make my own living. 1 I had a real paying job, via my college internship with a music manager, and was making good money, but I was unhappy there. Although I had enjoyed that job while it was an internship, my favorite co-workers had left and the new co-workers became not-so-favorite. Not to mention, I actually had to be there all day! Ugh! Life is a learning process, and here I learned that I didn’t like jobs where I had to be there all day.
I told my boss, Staci, that I needed to “find myself” in the world and I was quitting. When she asked me what I was going to do, I told her I would sign up with a temp agency. (That was my plan. I had heard that you only got called in sometimes….and not working all the time sounded like my favorite job.) Staci tried to talk me out of it, but I was already gone. Read more »
- That is “to support myself in the lifestyle to which I was accustom while doing something that I loved,” however I now know how ridiculous that is. ↩