09.08.11

sorry i pushed you in the head

I always turn to Harv when I need advice. Mostly because the advice is free, and it’s easy to track him down. Sometimes, when I call him during the day, he says he can’t talk to me because he’s “in a meeting.” I’m fairly certain he’s just trying to play hard-to-get, so I then text him every five minutes until he calls back in a huff. I’m assuming this is how a healthy marriage is supposed to work.

Last night was no different. I needed to pick his brain. It was important.Me: I can’t think of what I should write in your anniversary card. I need your help.

Harv: Wait. Are you asking ME what you should write in MY anniversary card?

Me: Yeah. I already have “Happy Anniversary!!!” and “I still probably love you” and “Thank you for still speaking to me after four years” written down, but it seems unfinished to me. Would you be happy with that?

Harv: I don’t…I don’t know.

It was pretty clear that Harv and his impossibly high standards weren’t going to be any help, so I went back to my desk to think.

I thought about apologizing for that one time I got extremely angry during a game of Scrabble because he wouldn’t agree that “pimpin” was a real word, and I “accidentally” pushed him in the head when I was “sleeping” that night. The sentiment seemed out of place. Plus, I still believe “pimpin” is a word, so it would have been an empty apology.

Dear Harv,

Happy Anniversary!!! I still probably love you. Thank you for still speaking to me after four years.

Thank you for loving me when I didn’t love myself.

Love always in all ways, Elizabeth

photo by Bonnie Tsang
September 8, 2011
09.06.11

I’m not even sure why I tried to act like a lady.

I have some good news, and I have some bad news. Let’s start with the bad news since it will probably lower your expectations, and then anything I say as the good news will just seem that much better. Bam! I’m a genius. I use that term loosely here.

A few times a year, I try to act like a lady. Last week was one of those times. I did an interview, and before I hopped on the call, I reminded myself over and over again: Don’t say the word shit. Don’t say the word shit. Don’t say the word shit. 

I sat on the edge of my chair, pinching my leg as a reminder to act like a lady. I’m happy to report that I did not say the word shit. Instead, I said fuck…numerous times.

Luckily, the writer, Tracey Lomrantz, was cool about it. Thanks, Tracey. And sorry I’m so fucked up.

So, now for the good news: I somehow managed to get my ghetto self onto the ever fabulous Glamour magazine’s website.

You can check out the interview here. 

And let’s remember, folks. I didn’t say the word shit.
image via blueq.com

September 6, 2011