Debbie Does Drivel

BROKEN-HEARTED ME

My baby is forgetting who I am! Damn this daycare thing. She no longer has a twinkle in her eye when we reunite after a long day apart and she has ceased looking and me and smiling when I talk to her.

I am WAY too insecure for this. I need to be loved by everybody, especially the fruit of my loins.

I'm not kidding. I am very upset. Is this a phase or do daycare babies really lose interest in their moms? Is she going to grow up to be totally self-sufficient and not co-dependent on me at all? That would break a very long and illustrious precendent set by yours truly.

No, really. I'm serious. Does she still love me? My heart hurts.

STRANGE DAYS

I had an unusual weekend., predicated by the fact that I was husbandless and child bare for two evenings.

Friday I went out with a bunch of co-workers to bid farewell to a colleague leaving for Illinois. I relived the "old" days by playing the Eagles on the jukebox, breaking up a bar fight and talking to the crazy cross-eyed locals hanging at the dive.

Of course, I also danced to "I Will Survive," and said regrettable things to the people I work with. Things like, "I shave down there," and "You smell sometimes."

I did my usual drunk dance moves like "All the Way Down!" and "Everybody Swing Dance!" I also performed my signature piece: "Hey! Make a Tunnel with Your Legs and I'll Crawl Through!"

Then, right when I pinky swore myself to NEVER go out on the town again as long as I live because I am a bad mother! What kind of mother drinks Miller Lite with Bob, the loopy-gaited raspy-voiced 85-year-old neighborhood drunk and then makes people conga to Wolly Bully?? No kind of proper mother, that's who....and right when I said this to myself, I decide to see the Indigo Girls with a lesbian from work on Sunday night.

Kev had bought me tickets because he knows how much I love the Indigo Girls. But he would not attend the concert with me, so I had to find a lesbian. This lesbian I found is from work and is a nice lesbian and we went to the concert together because no one else would go with me and I love the Indigo Girls and everyone knows lesbians love to see The Girls in concert and so I took a chance and asked the office lesbian to go with me.

Well see the nice office lesbian gets a little "grabby" when she drinks and forgetful too. Like she forgot I wasn't also a lesbian.

After the concert, we heard the Indigo Girls might be at a local gay bar and so we went. There were about six people there at that bar and one karaoked the entire time. As I went to request "Desperado," she humped my leg (the karaoke-er). These girls were straightforward, I'll give them that.

So anyway, a strange weekend. I feel a little skeevy about it: Do any mothers you know drink beer and unwittingly court lesbians? One of my friend's moms once got drunk and puked in her purse and made her daughter clean it up and that's worse, right?

WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT OF GIRLS...

So I'll come right out and say it: I'm obsessed with women.
I study les femmes constantly and wish I had their clothes or their legs or their cool-ass accessories like that fushcia leather cuff. Or those rimless eyeglasses.

Once, when I went to France, I spent all my time looking at the girls and coveting their small French feet and unstudied way of wearing a scarf. Like they just swooped it around their necks, so franchy and cosmopolitan. I can't do that. I end up slamming it in a car door, barely escaping asphixiation, looking like a choked dipshit from San Diego.

I crave style. I don't have it and I envy those that do.

So now I'm obsessed with this new girl from work. She is very styley.
She has the clothes I do, I think. It's just the way she puts them together, like light blue with camel. I don't do that. Light blue goes with camel? I didn't know.
I've tried to copy the styles, but something is lost in the translation. Like I'll wear peacock blue with maize. Whole different vibe.

Seriously, I've tried to analyze my life year by year and I really don't know when I became such a geek. I suspect, though it can't be proven, that it was in the 8th grade sometime.

IS THIS IMAGINATION OF MINE EVER GONNA MAKE ME SOME MONEY?

So I'm strolling with my baby. She is snoozing. It's a nice walk. Gentle breeze. Pretty sunset. Green grass. Kids on bikes. It's nice. But wait! A dog barks. Maniac dogs! What will I do if they attack? I have my baby! For God's sakes, these dogs could jump my baby and tear her throat out! Killer dogs! Good grief! I will throw my body in front of her stroller and offer my arm to the rabid, crazy dogs. They will gnaw on it while I unstrap Alex from her infant seat. Where will I put her? Why, there! I 'll roll her under that garage door. It's open a crack. She'll fit and the mutant dogs can feast on my juicy flesh while my baby enjoys her cement sanctuary. Hold on! What if the garage door slit is open just enough so the dogs can slide in after her? Then, I'll be left outside and my baby will be food for dogs! Plus, she's juicier than I am! Hound dogs love juicy babies. Eeveryone knows that.

Wait!! I'll throw her over that fence. Because she might survive that. But she definitely won't survive bloodthirsty dogs tearing at her throat. Yes! The cards are stacked in her favor with the fence scenario. That's what I'll do!

And I left my house 3 minutes prior. There's still the Zombie Park Teen-ager Attack! and the Man Driving By Slowly Who Tries to Grab Us, But I Pretend to Inject Him with a Neurotoxin Stored in my Take-Along Hypodermic and He Gets So Scared He Drives Off! murder attempt.

I hope you enjoyed this 5-minute glimpse into my brain. And if you think that was scary, try owning the brain in question. Ow! It hurts!!