Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

thoughts

Birds, Bees, Abs, Pees

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Okay, maybe I was supposed to remember this from biology or from the little clear-plastic visible woman I put together when I was eight that came complete with detatchable pregnant belly. If so, I apologize for my general scientific truancy.

If a woman has very defined abs and she gets pregnant, where do the abs go? Are they behind the belly, still intact? Does the belly dissolve the abs?

You have to realize that i’ve hardly known any pregnant people in my life. All of my aunts got pregnant in the same year, in which i recall seeing them only sparingly, and i’ve had one pregnant friend who i didn’t have an entire conversation with for the length of her pregnancy. I am operating on a deficit of facts here. The Internets and The Google have yet to come through for me.

This one is slightly less embarrasing then when, at age eight, I asked how a mommy pees when she is giving birth since she’s somewhat busy down there at the time.

Yeah, I was pretty precocious, wasn’t I? No cabbage patches and storks for me, I was already trying to understand the points of vaginal multi-tasking.

Thoughts Right Now

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The most awesome part of Eight Minute Abs is that the instructor totally doesn’t mind when you scream obscenities at him on every exhale.

As an added bonus, if you continue this habit (even under your breath!) after picking up the phone mid-crunch for a telemarketer they will find a way to hang up with you as quickly as possible!

In other news, i was just a quarter inch shy of my longtime dream of crushing a rat to death with a flip flop, except it was a mouse and a box of wine. Still, so close!

Tastes Like Burning

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During my mucho hanging out with Mary prior to Bonnaroo she turned me on to the magic that is Listerine. My only standing association with the stuff is my grandfather keeping it in his bathroom, and it smelling so toxic that i was sure it was supposed to be aftershave and not mouthwash, as its commercials implied.

In any event, i’ve been using it since i returned from Tennessee, and i have to say that i love it. Anything that makes my mouth numb and my eyes tear is either great for oral hygeine or fantastic for mixed drinks.

Sadly, rarely both.

Never Again To Enter the Cabbage Patch

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With the Lyndzapalooza landmark passed on my yearly calendar i’m in a bit of a drift. Bonnaroo, maybe, St. Louis in July, and then my birthday and Christmas and the whole thing starts all over again.

It’s a bleak outlook on the rest of a pretty good year, but i can’t seem to help that i’m starting to understand why everyone loves to complain about their jobs and longefor their weekends. You know what i mean; as a child they’re half the grownups you know and the majority of the adults on sitcoms, and even now it’s half your friends and half your co-workers.

My job is actually enjoyable, and it’s not that i like Saturday or Sunday any more than any of the other five days of the week. It’s just the centripetal force of circling around and around each week in the year. If you work a 9 to 5 job you can help but be drawn to the weekend like water circling a drain.

But what’s in that weekend? If you’re some people i know, the weekend is so packed full of activities – otherwise unachievable on a weeknight – that it’s just as much work as work. If you’re me the weekend is the same wasteland of exhaustion and listlessness as any weekend, just without intermittent workdays to break it up.

I’m starting to think that the key to adult happiness is staying away from both of those poles: don’t waste your weekend, but don’t lay yourself across it like a martyr either. Because, those fifty consecutive hours of “off” aren’t any different than the sixty-some non-consecutive hours of off you get during the week, which aren’t even that much different than the forty-some hours of work except that you get to do exactly what you want to do with them instead of what you should do with them. Except, maybe if you did what you should do they’d be more satisfying.

What do i know? I’m still pretty new at this grownup thing.

Anyanka

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One day i will be able to watch the finale of Buffy and not cry every time Anya is on screen.


If only we could get a little teevee running the finale at the side of the stage, i could cry in the play.