In this, my 495th blog, I’m dropping my byline because I’ve decided it’s redundant.
Everybody who reads me knows me by now; besides, nobody else who writes a blog has a byline.
I drop the byline with a heavy heart; it was my homage to the good old days when newspapers used to publish my stuff, back before the Ottawa Citizen packaged everybody then hired them back for $200 a column doing the same job. Can’t believe real journalists fall for this, but they can’t help themselves.
Word. When you get a package, do something else and give real freelancers a break!
I used to love seeing my byline in a newspaper.
It was important to me.
But it just looks stupid on a blog, so there you go.
Yesterday, you may recall, I thanked my bleaders for encouraging my psychotic ramblings over the past year, and I got back this lovely note from one of my Facebook friends, Debbie, who owns a bookstore and now a pub, who has grown triples (!) , a beautiful retriever like mine, and she still has time to run for public office.
And she’s skinny.
I’d love to get drunk with Debbie sometime. Someone once told me I had a bar face, and I’d like to take that bar face to her pub one day, unannounced. It won’t happen anytime soon, as I am not spontaneous and would need Scott to drive me on his day off, which is never..
Anyway, here’s what Debbie wrote:
“I love your blog, Rose. You are funny, flawed, insecure, bright and compassionate. You speak to the life of a fifty something woman, dealing with adult children, financial insecurity and body image issues. I’ll leave it at that. Thank you, and here’s to the year ahead.”
What do you mean I’m insecure. Debbie?
What exactly are you saying?
And body image issues?
I’m stopping right here, because Debbie is right.
I am indeed insecure.
The last job I had I got a near perfect performance review and a raise, but afterwards spent weeks mulling over one sentence.
“She has trouble with time management.”
Boy, I was pissed with that one. The boss had trouble with time management and I spent most of my time reacting to her time management problem. I was, and am, super-organized and detail-oriented. I’m obsessed with it. Then I thought, maybe she just doesn’t like me, or maybe I do have problems with time management. What can I do? How can I get her to like me better?
It drove me nuts.
Needless to say, I didn’t stay in that job because I couldn’t make her 100 percent happy, so it stressed me out.
On the body image thing, right again, Debbie.
I was at the gym today and, for the first time, decided to wear shorts. I sauntered up to the water fountain, which is under a huge mirror, and discovered that I have fat pads on the inside of my rather skinny thighs. As a result I look bow-legged. So I spent about 15 minutes on the thigh machine, and I’m thinking of purchasing one of those Suzanne Sommers’ Thighmasters.
It’s ridiculous really. I look better than half the women in that gym who have muffin tops, tiny boobies and asses you could use to serve a Chinese banquet.
But nothing is ever good enough for me. I’ve always been this way.
I was looking at a picture Mr. Big took years back. We were playing golf in Huntsville, and I remember being horrified when I first saw that picture. I was so incredibly fat!
I was a size 12!
I look at it now and realize I wasn’t fat at all. Not fat like I am now. (See what I did just there?)
Apropos of nothing, I am doing research for an article on thrill seekers and I was asked to investigate why people become thrill seekers. I discovered the work of one Frank Farley, a Temple University professor who became famous having discovered that there is a new personality type.
Farley describes risk takers as the Type T personality. He breaks down Ts into two categories: T physical (extreme athletes), and Type T intellectual (Albert Einstein, Galileo). He says there is also a T negative, a personality drawn to delinquency, crime, drug experimentation, unprotected sex and other self-destructive behaviour.
I’ve decided I’m a Type T intellectual with T negative rising. I call my T negative Wanda LaTour; she’s been a very bad girl at times, drinking, taking illicit drugs, getting arrested for bad driving, trying to herself into the Guinness Book of Records for the number of bad relationships, having sex with ugly old men who buy her dinner, then marrying them!
That kind of thing.
Wanda doesn’t really exist anymore — I exorcised her a long time ago — except for the drinking which I still do sometimes to excess. Hence the bar face.
Since Wanda moved out and I married the wonderful Scott, I am merely a Type T intellectual.
Also a narcissist.
I like that.
It makes me feel special.
That’s it for Friday.
Have a fun TGIF and all that.
A warning to all you T negatives out there. Have a fun Friday night.
Just don’t let your inner Charlie Sheen out.
You’re not winning, you idiot Warlocks; you’re losing.