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| I miss Amy |
You are more comfortable living in a pretend past than in the present. Your need to pose as someone who is over it is a direct result of a five minute encounter with Joel Flang 20 years ago, whom you have since convinced yourself was Jake McGrath. When you remember that kiss, you tell yourself you swooned. You never reread your fondest exchanges on DCUM because you're afraid you may be disappointed. You destroyed your old yearbooks and are horrified at the idea they may go online someday without your permission. Your back up plan is to move to Iowa where they already know you. You are fascinated by the mystery that is Sarah Palin. |
| Well, I still miss her. Even if she was really Rosie O'Donnell. |
| My child got a B in reading so I have hired three tutors and will pick him up early from summer camp so that he can still get into Harvard. |
Your child DID get a B in reading and it is secretly eating away at your insides. You look for ways to flash your Harvard Kennedy School pen on as many occasions as possible, which your husband picked up in the summer of 2002 when he attended an executive training course there (which, frankly, he only got to attend because the original company nominee got shingles at the last minute). You plan to send your son to St. Albans tennis camp and offhandedly refer to his days at STA using the same logic as above. |
The best times of your life took place in the tree house of your youth. You become enraged when your sisters point out that your back yard had no trees. Your fondest memories of your father are of handing him tools while he built it plank by plank, because he was a practical man who believed the best things in life should not cost a fortune. You still believe that's not too much to ask. Your mother gets a sick joy in reminding you your father left when you were two. Your favorite movie is Chasing Amy and you will never change your opinion no matter how many films they make. Your favorite food is toast with butter. |
| I shop at Ann Taylor. |
| I obsessively pump breast milk from my bewbies. |
You are still resentful that your college boyfriend Michael wouldn’t take that hot air balloon ride with you when you were in the Adirondacks. You have made numerous attempts to reconnect with him on Facebook, where you intend at some point to confront him about missed opportunities, but so far you have only been able to locate a smattering of blue collar beer guzzling high school classmates from Brick, New Jersey. Walking into an Ann Taylor store assures you that you have left your Brick days behind you, but you only purchase from the clearance rack. |
| Off to make pesto pasta and fruit salad to bring to my mil's cook out. |
You think your MIL smells delicious, and you worry that your DH thinks so, too. You are desperate to bring the most pungent foods to what you hope will be a bland BBQ. You use words like 'pasta' instead of macaroni in the hopes your MIL will recognize what a smart noodle you really are. You never notice that no one eats fruit salad at a BBQ and you are too cheap to bring meat for the grill. You think you've left your past behind you. |
| The so-called "witty poster" is actually furious with her husband and hates her job, but she's afraid of DH and can't afford to give up the job. So she comes here and invites strangers to let her abuse them. |
You remember the first day you heard the phrase 'the pot calling the kettle black' but you are still mystified by its meaning. You routinely assign your own feelings and motivations to others and have no idea why the world seems so one dimensional. Anyone smarter than you or wittier than you must have too much time on their hands. You start mulling over your choice of wine early in the day but never, ever drink before 5. You miss the phrase "Pardon Our Dust." |
| I like rainbows and sunny days. |
I'm stumped. |