(Circa 2006 -- The date stamp is a liar.)
We used to move some serious product. I think it had something to do with the chucks and santa socks; more people have twisted Christmas fantasies than you think. Of course, I'm not taking all the credit. As you can see in the photo, we had some great items to offer besides my post-purchase grinding skills. My dad would get so excited selling stuff that he would just start grabbing whatever he could from the house and slap a price tag on it, like my mom's favorite chairs, or my dowry. That's another story for another time, but I will say this: I imagine that loss certainly contributes to my perpetual state as a bachelorette. I'm pretty positive that my romantic allure would increase tenfold if my gentlemen callers still had the hopes of inheriting that microwave, coffee table, and broken papasan chair. Just the D by herself? Ehhhh, not so much.
Ricky Brindley brought another episode of the Match Game to Brigett's Last Laugh on March 22. This go-round, the performers appeared as celebrities or characters from the 1970s. I chose to invoke Stephen King's Carrie and transition her character throughout the show. Poor Carrie joined the game fresh out of gym class, and she even got her first menstrual period right on stage! How absolutely horrifying, not to mention embarrassing -- a real Dear-Teen-Magazine moment.
For round three, Carrie was in full prom queen mode. Her neighboring panelist, 1970s Billy O'Connor convinced her to take some of his drugs, and before she knew it, Carrie was loosened up and sitting on his lap. She said she was wetter than she'd ever been, and it wasn't the blood; 1970s O'Connor said it wasn't the first time he had a girl's blood all over him. Ohhhh!
It was a lot of fun, and I can't lie, I think this covered-in-blood look is what I really should be striving for on a regular basis. I got hit on at the bar post-show more in costume that night than I have the whole year thus far. A guy also told me something I don't think a guy has ever told me before: "I love how committed you are."
Mine hit at about 12:43 pm, and despite more than 6 hours of binge eating and comparing myself to other people on the internet, I still feel a little blah. I hope to see you out there in the world tonight, but my leave-the-house meter is dipping pretty far into the red. To be totally honest, the combination of Last of the Mohicans and a blanket that's far too warm for the season is whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Perhaps tonight's just a night for burrowing down under a faux fur blanket and the weight of two cats to sweat out what would normally be tears in an emotionally adjusted human being but has simply been transformed into chips-and-salsa-scented perspiration and a perma-scowl in someone like me.
(This scene gets me every time because this is exactly how I feel about the last peach Jelly Belly.)
I used to really enjoy being on the world wide web. MySpace was totally my jam. Don't hate; you know you loved it too. None of this modern social media bullshit even compares. Facebook won't let you pick a profile song from some obscure Polish band that truly defines your impermanent emotional state, or not-so-inconspicuously-but-under-the-guise-of-being-inconspicuous post a headline jab at a complete stranger who is six years your junior and more than likely banging your long-distance boyfriend. Sooner or later, we're going to have to face the fact that the internet doesn't allows us to truly connect like that anymore. Sure, it might feel real being "friends" with Charmin bath tissue or your mom on Facebook, but deep down inside, we all know there's no real substance to those relationships. And having to use our real names? Are you kidding me?? How am I supposed to compete in the lucrative business of internet spam porn if I have to use my real name? Seriously, it's like we're living in an Orwellian novel nowadays.
Nevertheless, I've decided to give it another shot. Why? Well, because there's really nothing else to do. I mean, I suppose I could work on becoming a better person, or volunteering to assist the less fortunate, or learning another language or something, but since there's no like buttons in the real world, there's really no point.
It's been over five years since I've been on the internet.
So what have I been doing?
Tokyo drifting, mostly. And then there was that brief stint I spent as a Furry, but I don't really like to talk about that . . .
In Case You Were Wondering . . .
Sometimes Ronnie D writes funny stuff. Sometimes she writes desperate teenage prose. Most times she just slams her feeble, little woman-hand onto the keyboard in an attempt to feel something, anything.