It has come to my attention that people are actually reading this blog.
Which, don’t get me wrong, is great! But this means that I need to come up with things to write about and to fix this atrocious layout. I can’t do web layout for shit so expect the same crappy look for a while until someone takes pity on me.
I haven’t had a boyfriend since ’07. This is not an accident. That was an odd relationship, one of those where you look back and think, “Huh, how ’bout that”. Which is the same sentiment I have while watching Alton Brown’s “Good Eats” and if your feeling on a relationship is the same as that on a show on the Food Network you’ve got some problems there, stardust.
I emerged from the whole ordeal a little worse for wear. I can no longer listen to the Magnetic Fields. Which honestly isn’t a huge drag for me. They’re like Belle and Sebastian but with a deeper voice. I’ll take B&S.
One of the most awkward things about breaking up is what to do with all of the stuff that accumulates. Everything that he gave me, I sold. However there was one item in particular that was a bit harder to get out of my life.
I have a huge thing for David Bowie. He is my favorite musician of all time. My ex, in an attempt to be thoughtful, bought me a HUGE framed photo of David Bowie. Sweet, right? Well the problem here is that 1.) It was friggin HUGE and 2.) It was the scariest fucking photo of David Bowie that I have ever seen. Seriously, it was in black and white and it was a closeup of his face, and the expression he had made me want avert my eyes and start praying to Jesus Christ for fear that an albino priest was going to emerge from my bathroom with a whip. I mean that’s how fucked up David Bowie looked. His eyes followed me everywhere. And by this point in the relationship I knew I wanted out but I was too much of a pussy to say so. So every time I went out the door or into the kitchen or really ANYWHERE (I lived in a studio apartment in New York) all I saw was David Bowie and all I heard was, “Ground control to Major Tom…YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS FUCKED WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING GET THE FUCK OUT YOU STUPID BITCH commencing coutdown engines on…”
When we finally broke up I had a bit of a quandry with this giant Bowie face. He was not as easy to sell or give away as a Magentic Fields CD. Again, I lived in NYC at the time and it just so happened that as I was breaking up I was getting ready to move back to LA. So everything that I didn’t want to grag with me back to California I needed to get rid of, and fucking fast.
My BFF was helping me move and she had no suggestions for disposing of Giant Bowie Face. I just couldn’t leave it in my hallway. It was saying too much. So I devised a plan. “We are going to drag GBF into the elevator, hit a random button, and leave him in the hallway of that floor.” And my friend actually agreed that this was a genius idea.
So we dragged GBF into the elevator and prayed to God that no one else would get in. Now at the time two friends of mine also lived in this building and so I couldn’t choose their floors. But for some reason I also decied that this meant I couldn’t choose the floors immediately above or below them. This left us fewer options.
“Why not the top floor?” my friend suggested.
“The top floor? THAT’S THE FIRST PLACE THEY’LL LOOK,” I screeched.
“I DON’T KNOW. You pick a floor.”
“Ok, how about eleven?”
“ELEVEN? BUT THAT’S THE FLOOR RIGHT BELOW MINE.”
“So they’ll figure out it was ME.”
“I DON’T KNOW. PEOPLE TALK.”
FINALLY, we got out on a floor, I don’t remember which one. She checked to make sure that no one was in the hallway and we dashed out with GFB, dumped him on the bench and shot back into the elevator like we were having that classic high school dream where we’re naked in the halls.
The last thing I remember before hitting the button is seeing this giant, angry David Bowie face staring back at me, and wondering what poor soul was going to have the shit scared out of them once they got out on their floor.
And then I laughed. And couldn’t stop.