I went to the emergency room.
I truly wish I could say I injured myself roaring down the Willamette, standing on the seat of my personal watercraft while sucking on a Mike’s Hard Lemonade, but like most things in life, the truth isn’t quite as exciting or as sexy as I’d like it to be.
I got a metal splinter under my fingernail while cleaning the barbeque grill.
Come to think of it, what happened to me over the weekend is a pretty apt metaphor for my existence so far: the mental image of myself is hella more exciting than the reality. Though I always had a vague notion the two worlds weren’t exactly in sync, it crystallized some twenty-odd years ago when Bill (now Wm.), a guy who at the time I would have patiently sat through endless sci-fi zine conferences in the second circle of hell for (which, come to think of it, are pretty much the same thing) said “you’re a good girl who desperately wants to be bad.”
But he was right. I am genetically hard-wired to be good: a half a glass of white wine and I’m tanked. I floss every night. The one time I tried smoking a cigarette (at 26, no less), my sinuses refused to clear up until the next presidential election.
But lord, did I ever try….(to be continued)
The Night of Joy Needs You: I’m pledging to donate September’s and October’s proceeds from my cafepress.com store to the Red Cross to help Hurricane Katrina’s survivors. If you’ve been waiting to get that LL bib you’ve been dreaming about, now’s the time.