December 15, 2004 2:18 PM- sucks to be you


Really. I'm not kidding. You missed a helluva post. Not just that it was long. JESUS was it long. Perhaps the longest post of all time. A post so long that it might have outweighed a Russian novel had it been transcribed from the digital medium into paper and ink. It was long people. Believe me.

And revealing. An expose that left nothing to the imagination and would likely have left me with no readers as I gathered up the torn fragments of my frock and crawled into a corner to keen and rock at the abject shame I had brought upon myself by writing such a godawful long and personal post.

Could it really have been so bad, you ask (with morbid curiosity). Well let's see.

It began by bringing you into the angst that was my Monday. But before I could fully indulge my engorged ego that was demanding a full-blown self-pity extravaganza-- my events coordinator (who has a proclivity for reading books that insist we are responsible for our own lives and that the key to contentment is sending improved thoughts down the rickety track known as our neural pathways) declined to host a wailing and instead suggested to my engorged ego that I spend some time in meditation.

That's when the post took a turn off the screen and drove straight down a steep incline like Herbie the Lovebug going down those winding stone steps in San Francisco. Boom. Boom. Boom. My engorged ego had NO FUCKING INTEREST in meditation. Instead, out came a parade of justification for the pity party. And it wasn't just any old parade-- oh no. We had pycho-pharmacologists from McLeans, boys who were once the object of our obsessive compulsive behavior were trotted out, there was the ghost of my great-grandmother who died when my grandmother was 4 and doomed us all to a broken maternal line, we had the prick who stole our screenplay and the hateful theatre director who makes Cruella DeVille look positively cuddly. It was more than a parade. It was a fucking medieval pageant with stories of blood and anguish and no Excalibur in sight.

The events coordinator (being as put together as she is and not one to permit maudlin, self-indulgent rants) began listing out every blessing that has been heaped upon my head (and there were thousands upon thousands)-- but the only thing missing from the pile was my soul.

Ah, yes. Small detail. I had sold it in order to purchase my contentment through the material possessions package offered by Satan himself. This then brought on a veritable torrent of details about how when I was a starving artist and wearing wretched clothes I ran out into the cold, barren field and ate a turnip that made me vomit and I swore to the heavens above I would never have to go without cable television and trips to Boston and expensive salon hair and beauty products again.

But then, just before I was about to post this long sorrowful, self-absorbed tale--- I went to the post office and picked up the mail. In it was a package from a healing woman I hadn't seen in years. She had written a most beautiful letter and enclosed a tiny blue book "Steps Toward Inner Peace" by Peace Pilgrim. My events coordinator jumped with joy and my engorged ego shrunk down to a little nubbin likes testes dashed into cold water as I read, "Whenever you bring harmony into any unpeaceful situation, you contribute to the total peace picture. Insofar as you have peace in your life, you reflect it into your surroundings and into your world."

So, I'm feeling peaceful now. Full of light and peace. Which unfortunately for you, isn't very funny or entertaining. Remember in that Woody Allen movie where he says, "too bad insecurity isn't a turn-on"? I would say, too bad suffering makes for such fucking hilarity and contentment just blows.

On the humor meter, of course.

got 2 cents?

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lizardek says:
Peaceful, schmeaceful. :P
posted on: December 15

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Karen says:
"my engorged ego shrunk...like testes dashed in cold water." Just beautiful.
posted on: December 15

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stephanie says:
so this was the short version? snark, snark.
posted on: December 15

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gatsby says:
yes, the testes line... i share a terrible proclivity towards guilt and i honestly believe that of all the muses, low self-esteem is second only to full blown madness. be glad the little blue book wasn't the "blue day book", the one with all the mopey animals- squirrels with empty ice-cream cones and such- you could've slipped into a coma or accidently written a childrens book with an obvious subversive subtext.
posted on: December 15

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violetismycolor says:
poor, poor BP!!!! Okay, do you feel better now? Sorry to spill cold water on your inflamed testicles parade, but I am of the same mind as your EC friend...you want peace, you get peace...you want drama, you get drama (and believe me, I was the most dramatic of Drama Queens when I was in my 20's, and I wallowed in it)...Now, I practice sending love out to the world, including my fellow bloggers, and I get love back...like wonderful friends like you, Bluepoppy, who write funny and loving things in my blog...
posted on: December 15

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Very Mom says:
"like testes dashed in cold water" *standing ovation*
posted on: December 16

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Marilyn says:
"It's my pity...er, party...and I'll cry if I want to..." Those damn events coordinators...always getting in the way of a good time...
posted on: December 16

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Gale says:
I am deeply suspicious of those who embrace self-help tomes. I prefer meditation through tequila!
posted on: December 16

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Margaret says:
Je suis d'accord avec la Violette. Il y a toujours du drame si on veut le chercher. Il est quelquefois difficile(impossible) de vivre heureusement, mais il faut, au moins, faire l'effort! Courage, coquelicot!
posted on: December 16

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pastamasta says:
Please don't be making with the cold water-dashing upon the hapless testes; the mere thought of such a thing is unpleasant enough that my own are curling up in self-defence.
posted on: December 16

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meg says:
Yeah, but you know...you needed that bit of a wallow you did before checking your mail. It made the peace that much more valued. Or..it sounded good anyway. :) glad you're feeling better.
posted on: December 16

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Erica says:
I will be clinging to that hopeful thought like a drowning woman for the next few weeks -- see? You're already making a difference!
posted on: December 16

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nichole says:
sometimes I read you bluepoppy and feel so inept..like my blog sounds like "how are you, I am fine. I taught yoga today"... but I so enjoy reading you and getting a glimpse of the inside of that fabulous mind of yours. you make me wanna be a better writer. wanna. that's a word right?
posted on: December 17

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bp says:
Dear Nichole, it's okay if I WANNA make out with you, right? Compliments go straight to my head-- and I'm not talking about la tete here.
posted on: December 17

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