**When I was younger, I stole
t-shirts and other various garments from the boys I had been with. I don't do that anymore. Now, it would be too much like
asking the firing squad if I could keep the blindfold.**
100 Things ~ cause I'm so avant garde like that. Right...
Check out some of the delicious reads I found for you. They are down below...
I'll admit it, this gal can't always be scintillating and titillating. It's true! So, for the rare mindblowing
occasion where you find that I am *gasp* not enough for you, I have done this; I searched far and wide for other ways
to whet your appetite. Until you return to me, that is. *Kisses*.
These archives tend to appear and disappear with more frequency than an eye twitch. Bear with me and keep watch... Archives
Ari Goes Down
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
~ Well that is Change For the Better:
The first clip is sheer fun and mockery. The second is honest to goodness dumbassery. Enjoy.
Under Barack Obama we get nine more states. He just might be the Messiah.
And please clarify for me, which is worse, not knowing the amount of homes you own or how many states we have - I think a 2nd grader would know that. Hell, I bet even Bush knows that.
I would rather be without a friend then friends with an absolute lowlife who can't be trusted or believed. I would think I'd be in the majority. I'm often proven wrong. So what about you guys - how many of you hang on to 'friends' that you know are going to disappoint you/fuck you over/make you regret that you gave them a chance? And why - does anyone need companionship that badly?
Today was just the fucking weirdest. But I'm already getting ahead of myself.
Have you ever seen the infomercial for the Ped Egg? Well I did and I instantly knew we needed to be together. One afternoon I was in the Bethel, CT Target and we found each other. Bliss. I've been pedegging myself regularly and loving it. Last night I gave my heels a quick once over and while checking out my handiwork I noticed a small, hard, raised dark spot on the sole of my foot. I futzed with it for a second, thought I saw something sticking out and felt relief. A splinter! I can tweeze that sucker right out. Grabbed the tweezerman, dug around for a sec and got it. Oh. Not a splinter. The top of a tiny scab. Hmm. I soaked it in hot water. Tried to remember if anything had bothered me lately. Went back to the tweezerman. Came up empty. I remembered I'd once had a wart on my foot as a kid. A wart... ok... a little gross but manageable.
I get to work Friday morning and look up plantar warts online. Yep, that's what it is. No big deal. During lunch I go to the pharmacy, pick up a few wart cures and head over to the pharmacist to see what she recommends. He asks me a few questions.
"Is it white or flesh covered"? Shit. "No. It's kinda dark". "Oh? Dark"? Fuuuuck.
He asks me to show it to him. I do. He suggests I go to a doctor. Except he phrases it this way; if I were you, I wouldn't buy any of these. I'd leave here and immediately see your doctor. Whatthefuckinghell?!
"Why, what do you think it is"? "Well..." "Just tell me, my mind is going to go to the outer limits of crazy anyway, you're not going to say anything I won't come up with on my own. Believe me". "If you're sure..." "Go" "I had melanoma last year. That is precisely what it looked like, but that's just my experience. Go to a doctor".
What choice do I have now? I have melanoma. Or an African-American wart. If I'm lucky. Which I so often am. I thank him (for giving me foot melanoma) and leave the pharmacy (to die).
I happen to have spent my formative years dating a fellow who would grow up to be a podiatric specialist. We've always stayed on excellent terms (I was part of his wedding party and I dig his wife) so even though I haven't talked to him in at least a year, I don't even think of not calling him. I try his office and get the answering service. I try him at home and his wife answers.
"Amy? Hi! It's Ari." "Wow!" "I know! How are you?" She tells me she's good, the kids are good, the older son is practicing for his bar-mitzvah already. OhmygodhowoldamI?86?!?! We bullshit for a few minutes and then I tell her I was actually calling for Evan's doctorly advice.
"Is he around for a sec?" "No... he's been fucking a slut for the past year and I kicked him out. He hasn't talked to the kids in 6 months. Wanna know why?" Uhm... no. NO. I want to know no more of any of this. I almost want chemo right now because the poison might just burn that last minute or so out of my brain for all eternity and wouldn't that be nice? "Well, the kids don't want to meet his slut and he said if they can't be happy for him he doesn't need them. Can you believe that?! Like our 7 year old has those kinds of reasoning and logic skills?! I'm telling you Ari, you wouldn't recognize him anymore. He's an accomplished liar and a fucking cheat now." He'd have to be as nothing that she is saying jibes with my memories of the boyfriend that taught me how to drive. Caught foul balls for me at Shea. Laid on the lawn with me and didn't spend all our time together trying to slide his hands up or down any of my clothes but just scratched my back or stroked my hair. The boyfriend that bought me a talking Alf even though I was 17 because we thought Alf was funny. The boyfriend that took my brothers to Mets games. Helped me clean up after my first non-parent-sanctioned house party. Gave me my first shot of Absolute. Didn't pressure me to "lose it" to him. Helped me move into my freshman dorm even though we'd been long broken up by then. Yes, she was right, he'd be unrecognizable to me now in (apparently) any light.
I am speechless. I can't think of a single thing to say other than repeatedly telling her how sorry I am. I'm in Fairway (a supermarket) and I'm so blown out of my mind I can't even remember why I went in the market in the first place. She asks me if I'd call her again sometime, she's trying to reconnect with old friends and be social again. I'm about to yes, out of nothing other than horror and pity when she tells me the connection has gone bad.
"I can't hear you." She's trying to figure out if it's my crappy connection or hers. I'm so shell shocked I can't say anything because all I can say is "sorry" and that's just not at all the right response.
"Ari? I'm losing you." She cuts in and out.
And then, because I'm somewhat of a coward, she lost me.
