Remember when Thumper said to Bambi, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all?” Sage words, I’m sure. But that means I should have remained silent from the moment I opened my dried-out, blood-shot eyes… wondering why I felt the need to stay up half the night reading the work of more talented writers and berating myself for the years I wasted selling drugs (legally, but still…). I would not have uttered a word throughout the bikini wax from hell, or the frenzied grocery shopping that followed. I would not mention that it was the FOURTH time I’ve been to the grocery store this week or that I’m sick and damn tired of the whoosh of its automatic doors and the sub-zero temperature of its interior. I certainly would make no comment on the emergency bathroom stop I had to make at a church on the way home due to the sudden and complete liquefaction of my insides, and would feel no need to describe the walk of shame that followed my tortured sprint to the ladies room. Without doubt, I would have no comment about the @#$%ing box of cupcakes that upended itself on my garage floor as I struggled to unlock the kitchen door. And mention of the crippling case of writer’s block I’ve suffered for the past week would never pass my angelically pursed lips.
Yet the more I think about it, the more convinced I become that I would bore myself to death. And so, dearest diary, I will conclude by saying that today blew enormous donkeys and I will be quite happy not to repeat it.
Love, Jodi
OMG…….I am laughing out loud!!