folie

I've been told that, if I want a successful business, I need to start a blog.

I really hate blogging, and I hate the word 'blog'.  It makes me feel dirty -- like I just vomited something without heaving first, and now I'm left standing there in shock, my cheeks bulging out, wondering if I should spit it into the mug on the desk or in my purse or just swallow it, too surprised by it all to remember that the toilet is also an option.

A couple of days ago, I came across a picture of a green Gloworm with a nightcap in my friend's...online journal...and became instantly obsessed with getting one.  I had one when I was little.  He went everywhere with Blankie and me.  Then the face got scuffed up, and the light stopped working.  My mom donated him to the church.  When I found out, I made my mom drive me down there to try to buy him back, but someone had already gotten him.  Seeing the picture of the Gloworm made my heart-shaped chest wound physically ache, and suddenly I was 7 years old again, standing in front of the cluttered folding tables at the church with my allowance in hand, frantically searching for the Gloworm that had kept me safe from monsters since the day I was born.

I went to eBay to bid on one despite being in the negative because of my recent trip to San Francisco.  I really should have planned that better.  I put about 10 Gloworms on my watch list and was systematically outbid on all of them over the next 24 hours.  I'm pretty bummed about that.  All that's left now that won't cost a small fortune is one with no Glowstick and holes in the body.

I also had a Cabbage Patch doll that I named Andrew even though the birth certificate said his name was Nadine. And that he was a girl.  I swore I'd be buried with that thing.  Then my rat ate his face off.  My mom didn't give him to the church.

I have a weird bump on my no-no parts.  I'm thinking either my ex gave me syphilis or I have an ingrown.  I'm going to go with syphilis for dramatic effect.  When I was in high school, we learned about King Henry VIII who had syphilis, beheaded his wife, and went nuts.  Too bad it's now curable with penicillin.  I really wanted a medical excuse for beheading people.