2) I wonder why Archer doesn't find me entertaining enough to comment on my blog anymore when he's out there commenting on the blogs of people who are a lot more insufferable than I am. It must be something I said. He used to like me.
3) I wonder why some of my friends, whom I actually know in real life and with whom I have real conversations, with words and sounds and everything, and whom I know read The Boat quite often, never comment here. Come on, people, you're making me look bad! Peanut Gallery and Racer X, I'm talking to you.
4) I wonder why I always say I'm too busy to exercise. The President of the United States exercises for 45 minutes a day. Therefore, I must be busier than the President.
5) I wonder sometimes at my capacity for getting through the hard things. Is it because my mom was a Buddhist Japanese? Do I just have a better bounce reflex? Am I cold and unfeeling? Maybe, just maybe, I'm really a cat in human skin who falls off the edge of the bed, walks two steps, and says, "I meant to do that!" Then I walk two more steps, sit down, throw my leg in the air and start cleaning my butt.
6) I wonder why a really hard cry leaves you feeling hungover? Not similar to hungover, but actually hungover? I wondered this yesterday, because embarrassingly, I spent two hours in my office with the door closed, sobbing at my desk. Thank god my office mate was out yesterday and I got into the office at 7:45, so the storm passed before anyone was here at work (I work in advertising), but still, I cried at my desk, something I haven't done since the Soul-Destroying Job of 2006. Then I spent the rest of the day with no mascara and a craving for a bacon-egg-and-cheese on a roll. See? Hungover.
7) I wonder why people say, "This is really better for both of us," when, if they want to be really truthful, they should say, "This is better for me."
8) Now that I've been on Facebook for a week, I wonder why so many women who are younger than I am, for some reason look like 55-year-old hausfraus. Like this nice lady:
Is there some waiver you sign when you move the suburbs that says, "I agree to get some variation of the dowdy housewife bubble hairdo?" Do they just stop giving a shit after a few years of marriage? I want to put my arm around their tender little shoulders, walk them off to the side, and say, in a Jethro Bodine voice, "See, now, you look like your husband's mom. And your husband don't want to fuck his mom. And trust me, just 'cause he don't want to fuck you, that don't mean he ain't gonna fuck someone else."
9) I wonder why my boss wants to promote me. HAAAAAAAAA hahahahahahahah (gasp!) hahahahahah (wiping tears from eyes). Not only that, she wants to make me a Director! In a Fortune 500 company! (going off in gales of laughter again.) But you know what, now that I think about it, I do understand why. I'm fucking Great At My Job. One of my young mentees (yes, I was allowed to have youngsters to mold and shape, I KNOW) told me that I was very "authoritative," and a guy I work with called me "direct." I saw him swallow before he said it, so I know he really meant, "GOD, you are such a BITCH."
10) I wonder why people carry those 90-ounce bottles of detergent to the laundromat. I buy the big bottles, but I also bought a smaller bottle and a funnel, so my detergent bottle fits into my handbag.
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