An Open Letter To The Person Who Peed In My Shower

Oh, hey there. You thought I was over this, didn't you? Well, friend, you thought wrong. Secretly, I've been stewing and plotting over this for awhile now. Just waiting for the right moment to strike back at you. Just waiting until it's been long enough that you've probably forgotten about the whole thing entirely, and have no reason to have your guard up. You see, I'm a patient person. I can wait. And I will. I'm going to wait until there's something that you hold dear and sacred, like the purity and cleanliness of a hot shower after a long day, and I'm going to piss all over it. Metaphorically speaking. Maybe.

And you know what? You couldn't just stop there, could you? No. You also decided to later throw a glass of ice water on me while I was enjoy a few moments of solitude in the comfort of the shower.

I realize that we are both of the nature of not knowing the appropriate time to stop escalating a situation. I realize that this is only going to get progressively fucking weird and gross and probably infringing on several health codes and human rights, but whatever. You started this. You know full well my feelings on pee in the shower, and how I think that under all and any circumstances it's disgusting. I don't care how good your aim is, which is not great by the way, it is not all going directly down the drain.

You know what I also enjoy doing in my tub? Taking a bath. I don't really want your urine as company during my bath time, and I'm lazy and don't want to have to clean the tub. Do I come over to your house and take a dump in your sauna? No, I don't, but maybe this is where this will eventually go.

So, friend, I'm just going to let you get comfortable. Go ahead and fall into a nice cozy sense of security. We'll hang out and laugh and have a great time and drink beers and I'll probably even let you borrow my pants again. I'm not even going to bring the shower incident up. Let's leave the past in the past! Let bygones be bygones! Hahahahahahaha! I totally forgot what even happened to make me so cunningly vindictive!!!! WRONG. I didn't. Consider this a promise.

Patiently yours,

Me

xoxo

P.S. Oh, and also, while you were sleeping I went and peed in your wetsuit.

Parting Memories: 12 Steps

It probably took far too long to get here, but here we are nonetheless. I don't need to write about this anymore, and that feels good.

Arrange in chronological order, 1-12:

Home Time

When I woke up that morning, I knew you were here again. I had purposely requested an early shift that day. Months later, after everything happened, I would find an old copy of my shift request form and it would make me have to take a deep exhale to see what I had written under “reason”, and just how excited and happy I had been for you to be home.

When I finished my shift and went to get changed, there it was: a text from you.

Later that night I waited outside your apartment, a place that felt familiar, but that I had not been in so long. I can still feel what it felt like to see you again after so many months. I still remember you pulling me in as we hugged, and you were here and real and warm and my friend and I loved you. I still can’t write these words without getting choked up.

You looked so tired, but relieved, and we kept hugging. It was like I had to make sure that it was really you, and it felt so good just to be able to sit beside you and talk and joke and look at you.

My Christmas/Birthday/Homecoming/Kwanzaa present to you was a stuffed animal duck that quacked, yours to me was a bobble head Pope. I still sometimes give his little head a bob when I need him to tell me, “You got this.”

  

First Time

You were so funny, and you made me laugh in such a genuine way. In front of the museum, down near the shallow ponds, I pulled you towards me, and we kissed for the first time. You were such a good kisser. There were a handful of them that allowed me to understand in real life what they mean in stories when they describe a kiss capable of making time stand still.

A while later you would joke that you thought you were a skilled kisser and also piñata maker. When I said you should kiss me again soon and frequently, so I wouldn't forget, I liked that your reply was "I should, and will." But then that changed.

My Birthday Time

I was approximately 30 minutes late to my own party, and felt embarrassed about that and hoped no one was upset. You looked so sharp, I loved your outfit, and it made me smile that you had gone out and bought a bow tie. I hadn’t seen you in a few weeks, and you were right when you said that you could see what I still felt for you. The truth of it is, those feelings never really disappeared for me.

I knew that you probably felt awkward to be there, maybe didn’t even really want to be there, but I was so happy that you came regardless. That meant a lot to me, even if it was hard to see you and I had to steel myself against the feelings and thoughts and things that I wished had worked out differently.

Cold Hands Time

It was not too long after you were back and we were lying in bed. As is usual at night, my hands were touch-of-death cold. I accidentally touched your bare skin, and my immediate reaction was to pull away and apologize, but then you grabbed my hands, pulled them into your chest, and warmed them with your own.

Your Birthday Time

My work party was the same day as your birthday, or National Holiday, as you called it. We had Skyped the day before; it was the first time I had seen you in months. But the connection was horrible and the video kept cutting out, so we just ended up talking. I told you all about my new dress and you asked me to send you a picture. I never did because the only one I managed to get was of me riding a 6 foot long dragon. You had a party on your ship that night too, but it was a work party and not your birthday party. You said you would fix that. 

You never really said much about your party, I got classy drunk at mine, and I thought about you that night and hoped you were okay. I was regretful that I had missed your call that morning, because I had wanted to wish you Happy Birthday.

Party Time

There was a going away party for a friend/coworker and you joined us part way through the night. From afar I pointed out my sister and a friend that I referred to as “Brother”. Your response was, “Oh. Your brother and sister are… really close.”  My back had been turned to them so what I didn't realize when I pointed out Brother and Sister, was that they had also been drunkenly making out at that exact moment.

You and Brother later dance-sandwiched me, becoming one of my favourite all-time pictures, and that for me confirmed you as a good egg. You later texted me to make sure I got home okay, and also to say that you thought I looked beautiful, and you liked my pockets.

All The Time

It was a little bit before Christmas. I had a dream about you, though I don't remember what it was. I used to have dreams about you all the time while you were gone. I don't really remember what any of them were or what happened, you were just sort of always there. It was strangely comforting in a way where it felt like we had just hung out on your couch and talked or something. They stopped when you came home. I don't have dreams very often, but those ones were nice.

Swim Time

We went to the Pot Holes, and they were holy-shit cold, but I really liked how you carried my beach bag for me. You looked so European, and you said it was all about confidence. You held my hand when we walked, and I liked that when we had to walk single file because of the trail, you'd reach back for my hand when we could walk side by side again. You were a better swimmer than I thought, and I liked that you wanted to explore everything too. It made me laugh when you started chanting, “Daddy!” along with those little kids who were trying to get their Dad to jump from the rocks. I’m not sure Dad appreciated your encouragement as much as I did.

Drunk Time

You were still away, but there were only about 17 more days before you were home. I had gone out with one of my friends to celebrate her birthday, and we got pretty sloppy drunk. I texted you, and then on the walk home I called and left a voicemail. I knew that you didn’t have access to your phone until you got back. I also drunkenly emailed you when I got home, telling you about the voicemail, and that I forgot how tall you are.

You said that you were choked that the voicemail was deleted by the time you came back because you guessed it was probably awesome. I did always wonder if the text was deleted too.

The voicemail said that I missed you, so much, and that I couldn’t believe that after so many months you would be here, and I was so happy to get to see you. I said please don’t go away again for so long.

Drive Time

I hadn't seen you in awhile. You had asked me if I wanted to come over and watch a movie. Even if it was already pretty late and I was beyond exhausted, I did. I wanted to see you and I knew that if I didn't go then, I probably wouldn't see you at all before you left. You looked good, I had missed you and wanted to hug you, but I didn't. I didn't think you wanted me to.

You showed me your new house, and I was so proud of you. It was nice, and cozy, and your tour made me laugh. The way you say things always has, and it's that kind of humour that has always made me feel a natural happiness, like the way I felt as a kid. It felt good to feel like we could still be funny with each other; it felt easy. It felt right to fall asleep on the couch with you, and it reminded me of the first time I came to your place and we fell asleep on that same couch. I guess there's a kind of beauty in that symmetry.

I didn't know it was last time I would see you. I didn't know it would be the last time I'd be a part of your life, and you a part of mine.  

I didn't know it was goodbye.

Flower Time

You texted me a digital rose. It was a joke, but we agreed it was true love then. Never again though, because it took you like a minute to text.

One-Upsmanship Time

The night we met, we were talking about how jokes can just keep escalating until it's a whole new kind of weird. We were going back and forth, and then to try and win I licked your face. I had maybe only known you 3 hours at that point. I had created a monster because it turned into a never-ending game of one-upsmanship between us, usually coming at the end of a perfectly good moment. 

It was after you had come home, and we were in the shower, and we had been irresponsibly consuming hot water for a ridiculous amount of time (But for the powers of good! And not evil.), that you rebooted our gross little game. But because I didn't want you to think you had won, I just let you slobber all over my face for what felt like a full minute. 

When I think of you, it is the weird things like this that I miss.

***

It's time to go now, but these will always make me smile, even if sometimes they feel bittersweet.

Key: 1) First Time 2) Flower Time 3) Party Time 4) Swim Time  5) All The Time 6) Your Birthday Time 7) Drunk Time 8) Home Time 9) Cold Hands Time 10) One-Upsmanship Time 11) My Birthday Time 12) Drive Time

- Natalie Bell has an uncannily detailed memory. She remembers everything in pictures and feelings, but strangely, can never remember where she parked her car.

Instances In Which Emoticons Are Acceptable

Emoticons are terrible. Just awful. I fucking hate them. But let me tell you how I really feel; those obnoxious little symbol-based faces offend me. 

My Dad, an upstanding champion of proper sentence structure and grammar, recently started accenting his emails with them, and I felt like I suddenly didn't know the man anymore. It was a dark day. 

When getting to know someone, if they happen to drop in a smiley or winkey face, it almost immediately signals to me that we no longer have anything in common. Whatsoever. And to my horror, it seems as though errbody is getting all up ons the emoticon wagon! People I respect and like as human beings are sending me texts with all kinds of digital faces!! 

I have gotten into lengthy and heated arguments over this. For the most part, what I hear is that these devilish little faces help in identifying whatever emotion is trying to be conveyed. They signal a joke, a sad situation, or a horribly passive aggressive exchange. Fuck. That. Shit. I'm about to get curmudgeonly up in this bitch and say YOUR SENTENCE SHOULD ALREADY EXPRESS EMOTION ON ITS OWN. Yup. Shit just got real, friends. 

If I am sending someone a message and I have to let them know it's a joke otherwise they'd think I'm appallingly off-putting, sexist, racist, homophobic, xenophobic, sociopathic, sexually aggressive, etc., then we are probably not meant to be; friends, lovers, distant acquaintances, or otherwise. 

This is no monkey business, and I'd appreciate if you took this seriously. The only place an emoticon ever belongs, is in a life or death situation. That is all. 

Please observe the examples provided:

A murderous psychopath is trying to kill me :( 

A shark just accidently ate my torso, will probably bleed out :'( 

Hey Mom, the cancer came back. Won't make it to Christmas; life insurance is in your name :$ 

Lucky I came out alive from that catastrophic 6 car collision. Not so lucky for the guy in front of me ;)


Just walked in on my fiance in bed with my best friend >:(

Dear cruel world, today I quit you. Also, sorry about the blood- tried to keep it all in the bathtub! :) 

- Natalie Bell doesn't actually feel human emotion, and this is the real source of her contempt towards emoticons. How freely and effortlessly they experience a smile of happiness or a wink of mischief. How easily they show laughter at a mildly funny joke. One day, she will destroy them. SHE WILL DESTROY THEM ALL. She was also hungry when she wrote this.

Conversations I'm Pretty Sure My Dogs Have: The Voice

Probably a true story. 


Goblin 1: Hey, where's Mom?

Goblin 2: Probably still arguing with her bike.

G1: Wasn't it her body?

G2: Yeah, whatever. She knows that bike has like 24 gears, right? I mean, that's pretty much enough to get her up Everest, so I don't understand what all this bitching and moaning over some hill is all about.

This is horseshit, it's almost 8pm! If she isn't here soon to feed us dinner I swear to god I will eat that pair of boots that I've never so much as sniffed and she has wrongly assumed are safe to leave on the shoe rack because we've always left them alone.

G1: Also, she's going to make us miss The Voice, and she's way too cheap to get a PVR.

G2: I am NOT waiting to have to watch it OnDemand two days later.

G1: Well, if she would just learn to pedal faster, then we wouldn't have to.

G2: Blake is really falling behind on building his team this year, and I want to see if he picks up anyone good.

G1: Adam really scored with that Avery Wilson, eh?

G2: OMG, such a wow moment. Just raw fucking talent.

G1: Agreed. But I really liked Nelly's Echo too. Maybe because we are part evil, but the emotional manipulation those shows try to pull with the sad backstories usually makes me feel completely unmoved. But that guy? Shit, he made me want to cry little goblin tears.

G2: It was pretty dusty in here.

G1: Okay, if you could pick any of the coaches, which one would you choose? Don't even think about it, on the count of three we'll both just say it.

One, two, three--

G1 & G2: BLAKE!

G2: The tallness?

G1: The tallness.

G1: And kind of a babe!

G2: Such a babe. He's got that assertive charm.

G1: And he seems funny. I liked that he brought his award.

G2: Never heard any of his songs though.

G1: Nope. Me either.

G2: Fuck, Mom. We're missing our show!!

G1: Oh, I just heard a bike on the balcony. You better go put her boots back.


-Natalie Bell (Mom) would like everyone to know that although her bike does have 24 gears, she's still the one powering it. It's not like the gears are pedaling the bike for her, okay?

An Open Letter To My Body After Day 5 of Riding My Bike To/From Work

Dear body,

We've had a pretty good relationship over the last 28 years. Together we've been through good times, bad times, swim times, sexy times, and lots of nap times. We've made it through some shit together, you know?

When our back got hurt, and we ended up in the hospital, and they loaded us up on Percocet, I tried really hard to take it easy and nurse us back to health. Sorry though about the time that I didn't really think the Percocet was doing anything because I was still in a decent amount of pain, and I decided I didn't want to take them anymore because I am stubborn and also don't like taking medication. Turns out, the medication was doing a whole lot, but I didn't fully appreciate that until we were in a movie theatre, 30 minutes into the cinematic gem Stealth, and I was writhing in pain. The combination of feeling like I was being aggressively prodded with fiery hot pokers while simultaneously being beaten with unusually large phone books, both physically and intellectually, was enough to convince me that I should stop being an idiot and listen to doctors, but that I should also never let the boys pick the movie.

Recently though, and by this I specifically mean in the last five days, I feel as though we have come to a rough patch in our relationship.

I bought Dad bought (Thanks, Dad!) us a bike with images of us happily gliding along, the wind blowing in our hair, breezily riding down by the ocean, any worries or cares swept out with the tide. It appears that you feel differently.

I anticipated that at first we'd be feeling the effects of having used the necessary bike riding muscles as frequently as never. I even mentally tried to prepare us for some preliminary soreness and minor aches. I thought we were in this together, body. I thought we were in it for the long haul; that for awhile it might get hard, but we'd push through just like we always have. I thought wrong.

I thought I knew you, body.

Today, while riding up the one hill on our way to work, I felt as though you were violently trying to quit me. You let our quads turn into puddles of pathetic non-strength, our calves felt weak and atrophied, and small children casually strolling down the street probably would have lapped us. Yeah, I realize I could easily choose a route that involves zero hills, but you know me well enough to know that I always make things harder than they need to be. And no, we're not getting off the bike and walking up the hill; we're not delicate flowers. I don't even feel real feelings anymore, just a constant, throbbing pain. What the fuck, body? That old couple waiting at the cross walk could even see how gassed we were, and started cheering us on. I had to tell them that it really was a bigger hill than it looked. I'm pretty sure they laughed while we rode off. 

Do you see what this has come to? Old people laughing at us. Well keep laughing, jerk. I'm eating a big fucking pizza tonight. Tomorrow you're dealing with that hill on your own.

See you on the road, asshole,

Me 

Boyfriend in a Box: Cold Hard Truth Edition

Alexander Skarsgard. Not a BF in a Box.
Just a ridiculously good looking man, in a
ridiculous good looking suit. Just because.

When I was maybe 13 or 14, there was this cheap jewelry store in our mall that catered to teenage girls. You probably had something similar. It was where you'd go to buy one of those BFF 4EVAH necklaces for you and your girl friend, or a pretty (as pretty as $8 will get you) necklace to wear to the coed but also supervised party someone's parents was letting them throw, or just your go-to store for when you and your friends would walk over to the mall in the summer time. One time, my friend and I came across something called "Boyfriend in a Box". It came with everything you'd expect a 14 year old to have if she had some cool, older boyfriend, and lived in a movie where teenagers gave each other glossy head shots of one another, a list of their extracurricular activities and interests, and cheesy love notes no actual human would ever write. I take that back, Stephenie Meyer probably would.

Anyway. A while back, a friend and I were joking about what the adult version would look like. We made up a few imaginary ones like "Hunky Humanitarian Hernando" and "Business Executive Bill" and "Doesn't Want His Identity To Be Judged By The Job He Hates Dennis". We laughed at the things we imagined you would find in the box set. Things like a long sleeve button-down to casually leave lying on your sofa, a toothbrush in a man color, a pricier but not too pricey men's watch to leave on your nightstand, a Greenpeace donation form, an issue of The Economist, and a pair of boxer-briefs to put in your laundry. 

It was the start of something big, and yet it felt not quite specific enough. Sure, Hernando sounds great and everything, but let's keep this legit. Boyfriend In A Box just got a slap in the face with the truth. Ladies, buckle up. This shit is about to get real. 

. The Older Man- Is super complimentary, almost to the point of suspicion, but who doesn't love being told they're gorgeous? Yeah, you're totally not complaining. It does seem like he asks a lot about you, but never reveals too much about himself. But maybe he's just really interested in getting to know you? And your insecurities.

He pretty much never answers his phone at night and on weekends. Instead, he will text you or email, and always seems to have some reason that sort of makes sense as to why he can't pick up his phone.

He rarely sleeps over, and convinces you that expecting your boyfriend to stay over on a semi-regular basis is a weird, distorted and outlandish request in a relationship.

You will begin to get a horrible, sanity-flaying feeling that something is not right, but you won't know what it is.

Turns out, you aren't crazy; the Older Man had just been lying. About pretty much everything. From the fact that he had never actually been single; to why even after a year he never introduced you to his friends, family, and only ever came to your house; to the amount of time he spent in the hospital when he told you he was recovering from a serious condition; and right up to when he said you were going to move to a new city together, find a house, and you almost completely uprooted your own business and life to step even deeper into his grave of lies.

The box set comes with: Diminished sense of self-worth; emails that reveal more lies that you found when a frantic feeling of suspicion sent you to snooping; an anniversary card from his wife; a paranoia that all subsequent men will be hiding something awful; invoices from lengthy therapy sessions; a few beautiful pieces of jewelry; a cross-country move; confirmation that you should always trust your gut instincts.

. The Strong Starting Juicebox- Seems pretty good at first. He does some genuinely kind and caring things like picking up you and your girlfriend from the bar at 2am when you've gone out and gotten sloppy drunk, and then puts you to bed and walks your dogs. He takes you on a few day-long driving trips (something that makes you so, so happy), and you have what is maybe the tastiest, salty-little-piece-of-heaven giant pretzel ever. A few days later he surprises you with his own homemade pretzels. It is these things that lead you to ignore some of the red flags that pop up along the way. Like the way he will sometimes toss out unexpectedly barbed comments that are meant to remind you that although he likes you, he doesn't like you too, too much; or the occasional offhand comment criticizing your personal style, wardrobe, or hair. It is when you begin to get into arguments that you realize he doesn't understand how to keep the fights clean, and it quickly devolves into what feels like a toxic whirlpool that makes you feel a panicky sadness, uncharacteristically unconfident in yourself, and as though you just should have never said anything in the first place so as not to have made him upset. When you try to talk it about it, you are met with accusations that you are crazy, twist everything around, and that your bullshit cost you a friend and a boyfriend.

The box set comes with: A bouquet of flowers to immediately throw in the trash; a pair of lightly used big boy pants; a cell phone number you will delete; a regained realization and unwavering need to hold yourself to higher standards; and also, further proof that drinking and texting are never a good idea. No good things ever come from this. Only things that are unnecessary and you later regret, and yet you always seem to forget this.

And that’s why you always leave a note.

Bonus item: A note to your future self, “Hey, you with the hair. Stop acting like an idiot and/or like a 19 year old. And wash your goddamn dishes already.”

. The One You Loved, But Could Not Marry- He will always be one of the nicest, kindest people you've ever met. You are together for a long time, and a lot of that time is some of the happiest you've known, but it still isn't enough. He treats you like absolute gold, and you know that you sometimes take advantage of this. You are not proud of this. You love him, and you know that he would do just about anything for you, and it's sort of disheartening that this brings out a quiet unrest in you. You find yourself sometimes committing selfish acts of sabotage, yet he never walks out. He never calls you crazy, even when you do something that might legitimately warrant that description. He never fights back, and is somehow always able to diffuse you when you've got your gloves on. He is a gem among men, and you have a good, happy, and laughter-filled relationship, and yet there is something in you that is not fulfilled.

You feel a cold sadness when one day you realize that fundamentally, you are not the same. You realize the things that in the long run are truly important to him, are not to you. You know that the hardest but kindest thing that you can do, is to leave. You know that you tried to be cold and tried to not do the awful friends thing so that he would be able to move on. You know that you hurt him deeply, and for that you are sorry.

The box set comes with: Two weeks worth of food he prepared for you on the day you moved out because he knows you hate to cook, and he didn't want you to go hungry; a puppy you got together; three years of wonderful memories; an apartment amount of furniture that he helps you take to your new one; a retrospective understanding of what a healthy, loving relationship looks and feels like, one that you will sometimes think of longingly when you manage to put yourself in relationships of the unhealthy variety.

. The Friend- You've never been anything except just friends, but the fact that you think so highly of him makes you sometimes wonder what if. He gives you the best, most straightforward advice that always steers you in the right direction. It's a terrific, intelligent and supportive friendship. It makes you feel like someone believes in you, and believes and encourages and inspires you in the things you strive to accomplish. And because his friendship is so important to you, you would never want to risk it. Even after the time he was describing his ideal girl and you thought, "I am just like that! Why does this sound like me? Does this sound like me? Is this a coincidence?" But you played it cool, and were happy when he found someone that made him happy.

You hope that you will be friends for a long time, but if one day in a terrifying but exhilarating turn he realizes that he is crazy about you and wants to run away to Cartegena, Colombia with you or whatever; well, that would probably be pretty okay too. Worst case, you know you'd still have some excellent conversations.

The box set comes with: Tickets to a great show you saw together; books and articles that you've suggested to each other and you consume with awe and wonder; perfectly blunt advice that you refer back to often; some sort of small, tacky or culturally/religiously insensitive gift that always makes you laugh; a person for whom you think the world of.

. The Ghost- He was wonderful, and someone you always thought would be a part of your life, even if just in the form of a friend, because you got along so exceptionally well, and you always felt like you were both the same kind of weird.

Then one day, without explanation, he disappeared. Your texts go unanswered, as do your facebook messages where he had also unfriended you. But you don't even feel angry. You just feel confused, and so very sad. The ghost of someone who used to be a part of your life now silently reminds you of the conversations you'll never have, the accomplishments you'll never get to excitedly share with them, the friend who is no longer.

 You didn’t know that the last time you saw him was goodbye.

The box set comes with: The old emails you cannot bring yourself to delete; a heartache you cannot shake regardless of how much you'd like to; a souvenir he brought you back from abroad that was also a part of a joke between you; an overwhelmingly physical feeling of being gutted when you see him one day from afar, but you just keep walking because you know that he is gone.

-Natalie Bell lives on an island and does not have a boyfriend, but she does have a lot of pets. 

Things I Am Afraid Of

I remember being in, maybe grade 5? Our English teacher made us write an anonymous letter talking about the things that we were afraid of. I'm pretty sure this was after we had just watched one of those PSA videos on the birds and bees of growing up. At one point in the video a young girl accidentally dropped a tampon right in front of the boy she had a crush on. We all laughed at her, but in the video the boy picked it up for her and smiled. Thanks a lot PSA, that NEVER happened to me. In fact, my mom wouldn’t even buy me tampons for the longest time because she thought they were “Too much like a penis.” Yup. Oh Mom, I love you. Those were the actual words that were used one day when we got into an argument in the feminine hygiene aisle at the pharmacy.

I sort of suspect that those anonymous letters were just a time killer for our teacher that day, and I was a little upset because I felt like I poured my fucking heart out into that letter and we never heard or saw anything to do with them again.

I remember writing that I was afraid to get my period, I was afraid of my parents dying, and I was afraid of growing up and not knowing what to do. My parents did not die (yay!), but I did get my period, and eventually realized that no know really knows what to do; they just trick you into thinking otherwise.

It would be fair to say that a lot has changed since that day in grade 5; namely that I am now afraid of a shit ton more things. Oh childhood, it was all so much easier when legitimate fears where things like whether Wolverine would survive having the adamantium ripped from his body, or if I would find my plastic Apatosaurus that I left near the pool the other day.

What am I afraid of now? Well friends, here is what my adult list would say:

. Sharks- The logical part of my brain tells me it is very, very unlikely I would be attacked by a shark while swimming in the ocean. The Discovery Channel tells me that if I was, it would be a mistake. My right leg and half missing torso tells me that is a pretty big fucking mistake.

. Millipedes- The big ones with the long, hairy legs. Groooss! Dry heave.

. Air kisses- I think this is self-explanatory.

. Kevin Bacon- Have you seen Hollow Man???

. Stephenie Meyer continuing to be a New York Times Bestseller.

. Game of Thrones season 3 not being as fucking badass as season 1 & 2 because SPOILER: the zombie-walkers or whatever, were exterior-shot-of-the-submarine-from-LOST lame. Totally ruined it for me. Zombies are stupid, so let's just never go there again, okay?

. My body slowly starting to fail me.

. My dogs eating my new Sperry Top-Siders. Again.

. I'm still afraid of my parents dying, because jesus christ, they've always been here! I love them! Please don't leave me yet. I'm not ready.

. Crocs- Please. Just stop it with these horrible atrocities against good taste.

. Stupid superficial stuff like my boobs getting saggy, my face getting wrinkly, my ass getting flat.

. Never paying off my debt.

. That you will let logic win out over your heart.

. Angie never leaving her husband for me.

. STEVE HOLT! Not getting his chance on the big screen.

. Never getting to see Celine Dion in concert. Serious. I love that woman. Her televised concerts make me cry big, ugly, baby tears.

. I am afraid that you are gone forever, and that I will never see you again. I miss the way you talk.

. My dogs one day figuring out how to surmount the impenetrable wall (i.e. the long, skinny mirror that is turned lengthwise and lies across the doorway in front of my bedroom).

. Getting my period unexpectedly while sleeping at a boy's house.

. Unexpectedly not getting my period after sleeping at a boy's house.

. Fish touching me. That's not a euphemism for anything. I mean that. Seriously. No touching.

. That the wizard is still holding my heart hostage.

. That the wizard is actually Alexander Skarsgard, and he will never realize that we are actually soul mates destined to dance together in the garden of passion and love (and sexy times!) for all of eternity, until the end of time.

. I am afraid not of being alone, but ending up alone.

. Even more, falling into the security of thinking that someone will always be there, because the truth of it is, they won't. No one ever is. None of us are bulletproof. None of us are impervious to disease and illness and cancer and life and time. None of us are immortal.
And what if they come to see you fully, to know you inside and out, to love you in a way you had previously not known; then one day, after years and years and family and birthdays and holidays and good days and bad days and couch days and so many days, they leave? 
I am afraid of being blindsided.

. I am afraid that this doesn’t get easier. But I don’t think that it’s supposed to.

- Natalie Bell, surprisingly, sleeps pretty soundly at night.

Angie and I Talk About Our Period Underwear

Oh, what's that? You missed Shark Week? Dry your eyes little dragons, because there's another kind of Shark Week I'll bet you didn't even know about, and it's a whole lot bloodier. Yup. I'm talking about Period Week. My sister referred to it as that one time, and it pretty much took off from there. 

So listen up dudes, we think it's disgusting too, but it's just a part of life. Deal with it. You know what else is disgusting? Peeing in the shower. The difference is that's not just a part of life, that's a choice. And this is why boys are not allowed at my house.

Angie: Hey, have you had this spa treatment yet?

Me: Oh yeah. I had that on my first day here. It was great, though overwhelming. I had literally just arrived in town the day before after driving across the country, and then showed up for my first day of work, and I think I was still on EST and feeling all kinds of weird emotions that I can't talk about because ewww, feelings. But I just felt unprepared, though extremely grateful to get this awesome treatment right off the bat.

Angie: Unprepared?

Me: Yeah, well I mean I wasn't expecting to have a massage or anything, and I had just been in a car for 5 days, and I was wearing trousers, so I hadn't shaved in awhile. Also, don't judge me, I was wearing underwear from the shark week roster. Because of the 5 day car thing... and definitely not because I was too lazy to dig out a nice pair.

And then on top of that I had never had a treatment with the body scrub and bath part too, so when the therapist told me to get fully undressed, I was all "You want me to get naked?" and "You are also staying in the room while I have a bath?" I didn't know it was for safety purposes, and not for, you know, voyeur purposes.

Angie: Hahaha! Shark week roster. You have that too?

Me: I just assumed everyone did.

Angie: One time I went to the chiropractor, and I was totally wearing shark week panties, but it's not like you could tell how battleworn they were, I thought, but then the chiro off-handedly says, "Oh, interesting colour."

Me: Your chiro commented on the colour of your underwear?

Angie: Yes! So when I got home I was all paranoid they were stained and I had to thoroughly check.

Me: Wow. That was pretty unprofessional of the chiro. Unprofesh.

Angie: But maybe it was just because they were Ron Burgandy coloured?

Me: Maybe he likes Scotch?

Angie: Take me to Pleasure Town.

Me: Oh you minxy little seductress! Please stop making advances that you are not prepared to follow through on, otherwise I am going to HR.

Angie: Ugh, I also have these underwear that my mom sent me that are, and I have no idea why she would buy these for me, a large, and come like half way up my waist.

Me: But you are at your bloatiest, maybe an extra small!

Angie: I know. But they really are comfortable and the waist band doesn't cut into me and now they are all worn, so I threw them into the shark week lineup. But soooo much material!

Me: Hahaha! Remember (name redacted)? She had these pair of jeans that were super old but she said she kept them for the very same comfort reasons. She said her husband affectionately named them the Mat Leave Jeans.

Angie: Yes! They are just like that. Ryan (the husband) jokes that if I ever didn't make it to the bathroom in time, it would be no big deal because there is so much extra room. He sarcastically calls them the Skanky ones.

Me: Whoa. If that ever happened, I think they would be the Stanky ones.

Angie: Mra haha! High five!

*We high five*

Me: If there was anything worse than blood bath underwear, would it be slightly-chewed-by-dogs underwear? I mean, the really chewed ones I throw out, I'm not disgusting. But the others, they only have a few small teeth holes.

Angie: But I bet they are comfy?

Me: So comfy!

Angie: You totally wore shark week/slightly chewed undies on your first day, didn't you?

Me: Yup.

Angie: Lunchtime!