Sometimes I imagine a life different than the one I lead. This life involves an actual hairstyle and interaction with adults–or at least people who do not insist on standing on the bathroom counter and licking my chapstick while I’m prying open my eyes and pressing contact lenses to my eyeballs. In my imagined life, stuff (like shoes and magazines and clean dishes and the remote control and the cushions on the couch and the crocheted afghans) would stay put. I could sit on the toilet seat without wiping it off first.
I would get a paycheck and a W-2 form and tote a leather bag back and forth to a Very Important Job. I’d eat lunch in restaurants with silverware and work out at the gym on my way back home. Weekends would be for sleeping in, seeing movies and getting pedicures. Only the telephone would interrupt my reading and I wouldn’t have to answer it, unlike the whining voice calling from the bathtub which will not be ignored.
And in my spare time, I’d write Meaningful Prose which would magically work itself into novel form, find itself an agent, get itself published, garner itself glowing reviews, and sell fifty thousand copies. And then I’d go on Oprah and become Very Rich.
I’d spend time at a cottage at the beach with friends so witty and amusing that I’d overcome my natural inclination to hibernate and laugh my head off instead.
And while I walked barefoot along the frothy beach, shivering in the always chilly ocean wind, I’d imagine another life, the life I have right now, the one full of life and noise and unmatched socks.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
Mel, I’d probably trade my life’s situation with yours in a heartbeat. (assuming I could bring along my own kids, of course… lol)
Isn’t it funny that no matter where we’re at in life, and no matter how happy we might be, most of still tend to wonder, “What would it be like…?”
Great entry!!
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That would be my life, too. š
Feithy
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Matching socks are overrated.
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I had the very important job, the w-2, the expensive haircuts, and spa treatments. But I also had 12-18 hour workdays, working weekends, impossible deadlines, incompetent co-workers, overbearing bosses, stress headaches, facial tics, layoffs (2), several months of unemployment, and a nasty little caffeine habit.
Now I have a gorgeous little newborn boy, grocery money, hair scrunchies and breast cream. Oh and sleep deprivation, an aching back, leaky b**bs, a mushy middle and ankles that are still puffy.
We really can have it all. Just not at the same time. And by “all” I mean “all” – all the good, and all the not so good. š
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Oh my, I know exactly what you mean. I have this fantasy almost every day.
Great post.
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feeble knees, you starred BOOBS?!! C’mon, you don’t really have to star boobs. Here I’ll help you with your boob therapy. Sing along with me…
boob boob ba boob ba nana fanna fo foob fee fi mo moob, boob.
I’m so sorry but matching socks are NOT overrated.
You realize, if you had that life you imagined you’d be a gay man.
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If you were a comedian than this Elizabeth person would be your heckler.
What is her deal anyway? Go bother someone else’s blog – you obviously have some unknown bone to pick with the universe.
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“You realize, if you had that life you imagined you’d be a gay man.”
That’s the funniest thing I’ve read all day – ‘ course it’s still quite early.
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Mel, I’d probably trade my life’s situation with yours in a heartbeat. (assuming I could bring along my own kids, of course… lol)
Isn’t it funny that no matter where we’re at in life, and no matter how happy we might be, most of still tend to wonder, “What would it be like…?”
Great entry!!
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That would be my life, too. š
Feithy
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I love the Elizabeth Person and she is my favorite wise-ass.
The Elizabeth Person gets my vote for Queen of Wisenheimer Land.
Which is located in the western Booby region of Boobonia, where all the happy homos and their left-leaning friends and otherwise intelligent beings live.
It is a very cool place and uptight people must be innoculated with (call me crazy) a sense of humor (imagine that!) before they may be granted a visa. Also known as a boobula.
ell š
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Matching socks are overrated.
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I had the very important job, the w-2, the expensive haircuts, and spa treatments. But I also had 12-18 hour workdays, working weekends, impossible deadlines, incompetent co-workers, overbearing bosses, stress headaches, facial tics, layoffs (2), several months of unemployment, and a nasty little caffeine habit.
Now I have a gorgeous little newborn boy, grocery money, hair scrunchies and breast cream. Oh and sleep deprivation, an aching back, leaky b**bs, a mushy middle and ankles that are still puffy.
We really can have it all. Just not at the same time. And by “all” I mean “all” – all the good, and all the not so good. š
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Oh my, I know exactly what you mean. I have this fantasy almost every day.
Great post.
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LOL!…thank you ell (I’m doin’ the queen wave right now).
K2…you didn’t leave a link so I can come visit. Not very brave of you. Feel free to come heckle me- nfluxus.net/flux. As they say in my family, I was just giving fk the ‘business.’ All in good fun.
If you take a parody of the Name Game using the word ‘boob’ that seriously then real sarcasm must send all your veins popping out so far they need their own zip codes.
Besides, if I didn’t heckle Mel, who would? Someone needs to keep her humble or all the praise would go to her head. Why should I come here and say, “Oh Mel, you’re a great writer and a wonderful person and you should be a star” when she’s got a zillion other people telling her that and it’s a bit like acknowledging the importance of air. A real no brainer.
If Mel wants me to leave then I’ll leave, or is Mel a puppet and you’re the real brains behind the operation? If so, you need to work on your smiley face.
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feeble knees, you starred BOOBS?!! C’mon, you don’t really have to star boobs. Here I’ll help you with your boob therapy. Sing along with me…
boob boob ba boob ba nana fanna fo foob fee fi mo moob, boob.
I’m so sorry but matching socks are NOT overrated.
You realize, if you had that life you imagined you’d be a gay man.
LikeLike
If you were a comedian than this Elizabeth person would be your heckler.
What is her deal anyway? Go bother someone else’s blog – you obviously have some unknown bone to pick with the universe.
LikeLike
“You realize, if you had that life you imagined you’d be a gay man.”
That’s the funniest thing I’ve read all day – ‘ course it’s still quite early.
LikeLike
In my parallel existence I’m training for a marathon. As for today, morning sickness and a sonogram later in the day. And no socks whatsoever in either world.
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I love the Elizabeth Person and she is my favorite wise-ass.
The Elizabeth Person gets my vote for Queen of Wisenheimer Land.
Which is located in the western Booby region of Boobonia, where all the happy homos and their left-leaning friends and otherwise intelligent beings live.
It is a very cool place and uptight people must be innoculated with (call me crazy) a sense of humor (imagine that!) before they may be granted a visa. Also known as a boobula.
ell š
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LOL!…thank you ell (I’m doin’ the queen wave right now).
K2…you didn’t leave a link so I can come visit. Not very brave of you. Feel free to come heckle me- nfluxus.net/flux. As they say in my family, I was just giving fk the ‘business.’ All in good fun.
If you take a parody of the Name Game using the word ‘boob’ that seriously then real sarcasm must send all your veins popping out so far they need their own zip codes.
Besides, if I didn’t heckle Mel, who would? Someone needs to keep her humble or all the praise would go to her head. Why should I come here and say, “Oh Mel, you’re a great writer and a wonderful person and you should be a star” when she’s got a zillion other people telling her that and it’s a bit like acknowledging the importance of air. A real no brainer.
If Mel wants me to leave then I’ll leave, or is Mel a puppet and you’re the real brains behind the operation? If so, you need to work on your smiley face.
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Mel thinks every girl needs her own personal heckler. Elizabeth loves me–ha, she can’t help herself!–and I take her comments in light of that undeniable fact. š
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In my parallel existence I’m training for a marathon. As for today, morning sickness and a sonogram later in the day. And no socks whatsoever in either world.
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Mel thinks every girl needs her own personal heckler. Elizabeth loves me–ha, she can’t help herself!–and I take her comments in light of that undeniable fact. š
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Well, I’ve got a mix of your life (no matching socks to be found, never any private time in the bathroom, etc.) AND that other life (job, briefcase, lunches out with important people), but of course, I too have times when I dream of something different. Some days, I’d like to ditch the job and stay home with the kids. Other days I’d like to ditch the kids and stay at work. Today, I’m trying really hard to be content with both š
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It’s true. Mel’s a babe. Shhhh…just don’t let on I admitted to my utter devotion to you because then no one will heckle me when I heckle you.
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With all my boys, you always catch me with the toilet seat comments. Clorox clean-ups are definitely my friend.
Your real-life posts so often put into words what goes on in my head on a daily basis. Thanks for the laughs.
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To clarify:
I personally don’t have a problem with the word “boobs”. I starred it b/c I don’t have enough bandwidth in the brain to remember whether or not it’s one of those words that Blogger.com blocks. I didn’t think so, but I figured I’d star it so that my comment would go through, just in case.
Sorry to spoil the fun! Go ahead and heckle anyway if that floats your boat. I’m waaay too tired and strung out to be bothered much. š
Cheers,
Feeble
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Well, I’ve got a mix of your life (no matching socks to be found, never any private time in the bathroom, etc.) AND that other life (job, briefcase, lunches out with important people), but of course, I too have times when I dream of something different. Some days, I’d like to ditch the job and stay home with the kids. Other days I’d like to ditch the kids and stay at work. Today, I’m trying really hard to be content with both š
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It’s true. Mel’s a babe. Shhhh…just don’t let on I admitted to my utter devotion to you because then no one will heckle me when I heckle you.
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With all my boys, you always catch me with the toilet seat comments. Clorox clean-ups are definitely my friend.
Your real-life posts so often put into words what goes on in my head on a daily basis. Thanks for the laughs.
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To clarify:
I personally don’t have a problem with the word “boobs”. I starred it b/c I don’t have enough bandwidth in the brain to remember whether or not it’s one of those words that Blogger.com blocks. I didn’t think so, but I figured I’d star it so that my comment would go through, just in case.
Sorry to spoil the fun! Go ahead and heckle anyway if that floats your boat. I’m waaay too tired and strung out to be bothered much. š
Cheers,
Feeble
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Great post and so very true!
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Great post and so very true!
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