Friday, February 13, 2004

#12: Little nothings about my life

One dozen Columns and you keep coming back. Why? Because you love me. And because I force feed them into your inbox. But mostly because you love me.

Not much today, I'm afraid. A little of this and that about what has been going on in my life. I haven't kissed any rock stars, seen any concerts or done anything incredibly stupid recently. Except fall on the ice in my driveway. Which was an accident. Let me explain.

In temperatures below zero, cars start pretty hard. So that's why I ran outside to run my car before I had to go to work on the coldest day of the year.

In hindsight, running probably wasn't a good idea. Our driveway was covered in ice which was covered in really slippery, packed down snow.

I went out the door and turned the corner to get to my car. Well, I turned the corner. My feet kept sliding forward. Which is how I lost my balance and fell squarely on my right hip-bone and shoulder.

I just lay there, in four inches of snow, taking check of my body parts. Ankles, fine. Legs, functioning. Elbow, not scraped. Hand/wrist, in the snow and starting to get really, really cold. Hip and shoulder, ow ow ow ow OW! I honestly thought I was going to have to drive myself to the emergency room for a fractured hip or dislocated shoulder.

But no. My hip and shoulder just hurt (insert whiney voice) really really bad. Enough to make me feel nauseated. That lasted about two days, then it got better. Two weeks later I still have a pretty yellow and black bruise on my hip the size of my outstretched hand (fingers included) but it doesn't hurt any more. Another fine, fine injury story to tell at parties.

Changing subjects rapidly, (hi, I have the attention span of a gnat) guess who I was on the phone with today? Go on, guess! I'll wait.

Nope.

Na-uh.

No, the Rolling Stones and I don't talk any more due to an "unfortunate incident" involving pink flamingos, a golf cart and Keith Richard's bandana.

I was on the phone with Paris! And not Hilton you sickos, Paris, France. As in Arc de Triumph and the Louve. As in "Bonjour..." okay that's all the French I know. My job isn't that exciting, but today I got to be on the phone with Pa-ris!

I spoke with an office manager over there who had an outraaaageous accent (all hail monty python!) and was trying to arrange payment for two of his employees who are taking one of my courses.

Our conversation consisted of mostly money stuff and was really quite dull. But the whole time we talked, I was sitting there, humming in my head, "I'm talking to Pa-ris, I'm talking to Pa-ris..." Antoine's outraaaageous accent also did not hurt my enjoyment of the conversation.

I have a thing for accents.

I think I need to get out more.

I AM getting a surprise for Valentine's Day tonight. And I LOVE surprises. (And no, I don't know what it is yet so don't ask... although I have a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with a new tiara... hee hee!)

Golly. What else has been happening? Hmmm. I am currently in the market for a new health insurance plan. Let's just say bad things, very bad things, happened with my previous provider, parents got involved, aaaaaand leave it at that.

My poor car, Mickey, was in the shop, again. Herb, the garage manager, and I are now like this (picture me crossing my fingers). And after spending $600, Herb has promised to be at my service forever and ever, amen. Especially if I'm willing to hand over that amount of dough again. Little Herby Jr. needs a college education, you know. (And I'm pretty sure I only covered Little Herby Jr.'s braces this time.) But it's nice to know that I've added a mechanic to my entourage.

After all, a girl needs a good entourage that is prepared for anything.

Did you all hear that Barbie and Ken broke up?? Here's the press release from Mattel. I was crushed. First Brittany and Justin, then Ben and Jen, now Barbie and Ken? I don't think I can believe in true love any more. If two twelve-inch, plastic dolls (Barbie and Ken, not Brittany and Justin) can't make it work after 43 years together, who can? And right before Valentine's Day? The day of love?

(scrape, woosh, shatter, scream)

That was the sound of all my childhood illusions shattering into tiny little pieces.

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