…rhymes with “neuralgia,” which my grandmother had when I was little, so I used to hear that word a lot and now I always, ALWAYS think of “neuralgia” whenever someone says “nostalgia.”
That was possibly one of the most boring things I’ve ever shared. Do not read my blog before driving or operating heavy machinery.
ANYWAY, I am a pretty nostalgic person. In fact, one of my favorite things to do when I can’t fall asleep is to think about what I was doing a week/month/year ago.
Needless to say, IT WORKS. Also, this picture totally cracks my shit up. It’s funny ’cause it’s deadly!
So, being the nostalgic soul that I am, I’m shocked – SHOCKED, I SAY! – that I totally neglected to recognized my 2-year blogiversary back in July. And I also meant to write on August 1st to commemorate the anniversary of when I found out I was totally knocked up last year. I am thinking my recent forgetfulness MAY have something to do with a certain someone who was the size of a poppyseed this time last year, but who is now more like a giant, chubby poppyseed with multiple chins.
No, I have no idea what my mother is talking about. Just ignore her. I know I do.
So, in the spirit of blogging (which is to say, “in the spirit of blathering on about myself on the internet”), I’m taking you on a little virtual stroll down memory lane, during which we’ll explore what was going on in the life of a Jive Turkey in the mid-Augusts of bygone years.
You can probably go ahead and cancel your prescription.
COME SNORE WITH ME: A 14-year retrospective of the mid-Augusts I have known, by Jive Turkey
I was living in: my parents’ house, but preparing to move into my dorm, Boyd Hall, for my very first semester as a college student OMG I cannot wait to get drunk and do my own laundry.
Every day I: worked at the mall.
Personal Motto: College is going to be so much better than high school. Right? RIGHT?!
I was living in: my parents’ house, soon to move into the all-girls dorm with my dear friend Deez. This is the dorm I would nearly get kicked out of thanks to my desire to try to run an Underground-Railroad-like operation of sneaking boys (some for me, some for friends) into the building after hours. (Brad: you did not just read that. And I was just sneaking them in for Bible study anyway.)
Every day I: tried to figure out why why whyyyyyyy my freshman year boyfriend was avoiding my calls and ignoring me. Turns out he was dumping me using a method I like to call “You Can’t Exist If I Don’t Talk To You.” I…did not handle this well. I passed my time getting a rebound boyfriend, a tattoo, and really really drunk.
Personal Motto: Can you put that Indigo Girls song on repeat? *SOB*
I was living in: my very own grown-up off-campus apartment! It was a shithole, but still!
Every day I: ate the new staples of my diet: instant mashed potatoes and Pepsi. The food budget clearly took a hit now that I was paying rent.
Personal Motto: I probably shouldn’t date this guy, but I think I will anyway.
I was living in: A BRAND NEW off-campus apartment, that was actually really nice and not a shithole at all. Although, truth be told, I was mostly living in Brad’s off-campus apartment and merely showering and changing clothes at my apartment. I’m sure my parents would have been pleased to know I was paying hundreds of dollars a month for something I could have done for free at the Y.
Every day I: wondered what the fuck I was going to do after graduation but eh, who cares, let’s have some more wine from a box.
Personal Motto: OMG BRAD BRAD BRAD BRAD I LOVE THIS DUDE NAMED BRAD
He is on the right, very drunk, and still rocks my socks.
I was living in: my parents house again, until grad school the following fall. My father complained about the white Christmas lights I strung around my bedroom window (“They’re going to catch the house on fire!”); I wondered if there were any vacancies in the 4th circle of hell.
I wonder if anyone in Lower Hell would bitch about how loud I play my Dave Matthews CDs.
(This was 1999, remember.)
Every day I: looked for a damn job, cursed my present Brad-less living arrangement.
Personal Motto: I am an ARTIST! I am an ADULT! I am…sharing a bathroom with my mother.
I was living in: My brother-in-law’s house with Brad (WEE!) as we were newly married and had nowhere to live until we made the huge move to New Jersey later in the month.
Every day I: wrote thank-you notes for wedding gifts, packed things for the move, thanked every religious figure throughout the history of man for the fact that I was finally out of my parents’ house.
Personal Motto: New Jersey is going to be awesome! And check out these wooden nickels I just got!
I was living in: New Jersey, the Garden State*, after the expensive failed experiment of grad school. Preparing to move to New York City on Sept. 14, 2001. Stomach hurts just thinking of that.
Every day I: went to work at a computer hardware/software supplier, which – in hindsight – probably involved some seriously shady business dealings. But no matter – I literally had NOTHING to do if customers didn’t call me, and since I got maybe one call a day, I was able to openly surf the net and play computer games. Ah, Bejeweled, this was when we fell in love.
Personal Motto: New Jersey can only hurt me if I allow New Jersey to hurt me.
I was living in: our sweet apartment in Queens. Seriously, I really did love that apartment. Except for that bitch who lived upstairs and had really loud sex at 3am.
Every day I: pretended I was totally a New Yorker because I totally love this place, really, and I only cry in the bathroom at work because I fit in here so well.
Personal Motto: You’re not livin’ unless you pay for your groceries with a credit card!
I was living in: our tiny but charming apartment in glorious, glorious Pittsburgh
Every day I: worked my retail job at the mall, which had not yet turned into the hellish experience I’d know about 9 months later.
Personal Motto: You can get a sandwich in this town for under FIVE DOLLARS?! FIVE DOLLARS?! OMG WHEEEEE!
I was living in: our lovely apartment, which was made just a little less lovely by our less-than lovely downstairs neighbor, who managed to simultaneously be a hermit AND walk around naked with no window coverings all at once. Lovely.
Every day I: worked my stupid job downtown where I was tricked into being the receptionist. I had never been at one job for more than 11 months, and this job would be no exception. I actually came across my personnel file once at this job, and saw that one of the women who interviewed me (who YAWNED during my interview when I was answering a question, no lie) expressed concern that my appearance wasn’t “professional” enough. I am still really pissed off about this, seeing as how the woman in question had the same haircut as fucking Nigel Tufnel.
Personal Motto: “Having no direction in your life” is the new “having direction in your life.”
I was living in: our apartment, still, but not for long, as we had recently purchased a HOUSE. I have never, ever been more anxious in my life than I was during the home-buying process. And friends, I have pushed another person out my privates.
Every day I: worked at the same place I’m still working at now, so…shushy-shushy about that. Nothing to see here. Move along. I was also in an awesome outdoor production of “Dark of the Moon,” which is were I met Rodger and a whole host of other equally awesome mother-scratchers.
Personal Motto: Savings, schmavings, I WANT THAT HOUSE.
I was living in: My house. MY HOUSE! My glorious house! My reason for being chained to a desk for the rest of my days but oh, original woodwork and pocket doors and front porch swing, YOU ARE WORTH IT.
Every day I: performed in another of Rodger’s fantastic shows, “The Crucible.” Yes, I was an office-worker by day, a persecutor of witches by night.
Personal Motto: Kids? Psssh.
I was living in: the house, which I finally felt confident in declaring Officially Not Haunted.
Every day I: worked and read mommy blogs. And read mommy blogs and worked. And had lots of drunken conversations with Brad about OK, so maybe, maybe we will have kids one day although I am already 30 and now that I think about it I can’t stop thinking about it but WAIT! Give me until at least 2009 or maybe sooner and oh fuck it let’s just have a damn baby already.
Personal Motto: OMFG, I am going to go off the pill in October. Or am I? Babies are scary, scary little people.
Not as scary as this flash in my tender infant corneas. Damn, Mommy!
I was living in: our house, in which one of the guest rooms was about to assume a very important purpose.
Every day I: hated the ever-living shit out of someone who may or may not have been my boss (emphasis on “MAY”); struggled to survive in a world that contained SO MANY SMELLS, including the smell of the fish counter at the grocery store, which still makes me a little sick when I walk past it sans-fetus.
Personal Motto: YAY! Pregnant! Now get those disgusting lemon candies out of my field of vision before I barf all over your shoes. *GAG* Also: ZZZZZZZZZZ.
Needs no further explanation, bitches.
*garden not included
Entry filed under: And you KNOW THIS!.