Saturday, July 22, 2006
Happy Birthday To Me (thud, sniff, waaaaah!)
I had a dreadful morning. Simons didn't help me do the pork marinade for the three batches of Puerco Pibil we have to make for Moise Island tomorrow that has to sit for 12-24 hours, so I had to do it THIS MORNING before work. I got one batch out of three done. Note to self: never de-fat pork before morning coffee. Then I got habanero in my eye. And Simons left the breakfast stuff out so the dog ate all my kashi. And then he hid my keys in a gift bag, so I didn't find it until I had reached full steam lost key weeping hysteria and finally kicked the immortal crap out of the bag and heard my keys jingling. And then I had to go get a shot at the allergist. Thirty sucks ass.
Yes, today is my fucking birthday. And no, do NOT wish me a happy birthday. I’m OLD! And I’ve done NOTHING WITH MY LIFE! I’M A TOTAL FAILURE! WOE! AGONY! AND A GREAT WAILING OVER ALL THE LAND! Soon my hearing will start to go and I will have to wear ill-fitting wigs and muumuu’s and protective undergarments, and will never write anything good or win a Pulitzer and will end up living under a bridge, drinking cheap gin out of a paper bag, yea verily.
So how is your day?
For all the people who have asked recently, my last name is now Young, which is much easier to spell than my old name. Only I don’t like it. Having a new name is like having to make friends with a new person, when really you’re just too lazy and can’t be bothered and you’ll just make meaningless small talk over your cafeteria trays but never ask her over to play after school. You know what I mean? I’ve spent thirty (egads) years getting to know Jemima M. and filling her name with meaning and memories, and now, she’s just gone...POOF! And I’m not sure about this new person. She sounds boring. I bet her dog has fleas. Of course, it could be worse. My poor friend Lindsay is having to change her name to Hujsak, which is pronounced like Hudgesick, but really, wouldn’t YOU call her “huge sack?” Yeah, me too.
In other news, I’m training for marathon Number Two. It will be Chicago this year, which is good. I’ve never been to Chicago. I have, however, run 26.2 miles in a row before, and I’m trying to figure out why I am considering doing it again? Was training in the Charleston summer so much fun I need more of the same? Um, no. Did I enjoy lying around feeling sore all day Sunday and hovering in front of the fridge like a human garbage disposal? No, that was pretty much the low point last time. Ice bags and Advil and smelly laundry...all of these things have I.
Posted by Sarah Moïse Young at 5:44 AM