2006-02-09 - 10:50 p.m.

Ok, this isn't typical PR fare, but I just need to unload for a minute.

First, before I do, I went to Dallas last week with Geoff, which, overall, the trip was really good...I will write more about that later. But, on my flight home

*SIDE NOTE* on Barnum & Bailey's flight 666

here's the seating arrangements: me=aisle seat
guy across from me=kept looking over at me, back and forth, unstopping, as if his head were a swinging screen door--once it slammed back into place, it just bounces back open. then he would, every 10 minutes or so, stretch out his right leg and say, "shit."

*SIDE NOTE* not an "Oh shit" as if to say, "Man, my leg is tired and cramped up." But more of a statement, as if to say, "Hey, there's shit."

guy sitting next to screen door=had a paperback book, opened to the first page and instead of reading his chosen literature, he fluttered the pages with his thumb and forefinger.

*SIDE NOTE* THE WHOLE EFFING TRIP!

flight attendant lady=Lurch from the Adam's Family. As in, "You raaang?" Tallest woman I have ever laid eyes on. Gaunt. Horse teeth. Straight, shoulder length blonde hair. And legs as tall as me. Whenever they brought the cart threw and she had to bend over, because of her giant, "pay $.50 to see this kids" stature, her ass was honestly the length of a packet of airline peanuts away from my head.

The seat directly next to me was empty, however, the window seat? Well, that's another story. Who may have sat there you say? A bear on a unicycle? No. A juggler? No. The bearded lady? Uh-uh. Drumroll....

A midget. No shit. A midget. Not only was he a midget, he had asthma. So, every twenty minutes or so, he was puffing off his his asthma meds. I thought I might have to do CPR on him at some point.

*SIDE NOTE* How do you do CPR on a midget? Do you use the two finger, infant rule or do you layer your hands and pump? And, even more importantly, if he DID die, would my 15 minutes of fame be the girl on the news that gave mouth to mouth to the midget with asthma!?!

We all piled into a little tiny car together and rode home....

Ok, so on to today....here's the anti-PR blog moment for the week. Sorry.

Today, I had a melt down. The kind where you just let it out and cry your fucking head off. Why? Because I am a pussy. Planning a wedding, heading up a non-prof, getting into a new job (where they are taking two positions and merging them into one, mine)that I am still struggling with morally,

*SIDE NOTE* I am not stripping or whoring myself out, nor do I own an establishment that does. I'm not doing porn, or selling drugs. It's all about the "working for the big corporation" b.s.

financially I am so crunched I feel like I am going to vomit at any moment, engaged to a pastor and in the makes of becoming a pastor myself--we aren't under the microscope AT ALL,

*SIDE NOTE* If you can sense the sarcasm in that one, good, because I'm laying it on pretty thick.

fielding a billion

*SIDE NOTE* slight exaggeration while using the word "billion"--that's what it feels like, it's not literal.

phone calls a day from people wanting or needing this or that,

*SIDE NOTE* By the way, why do people, who call you on your cell phone in the middle of your WORK DAY ask, after they have left 3 or 4 messages, "Why aren't you picking up?" "Because I'm at work, asshole, that's why." Glad we could clear that up so swiftly.

or even better the two emails I received regarding my "sinful remarriage"--whatever,

*SIDE NOTE* If you want to talk to me about marriage, remarriage, whatever the fuck, please do it on a regular basis and not once in a blue fucking moon. You=not allowed to speak into my life if you don't give a shit the rest of the time.

Geoff's birthday party is tomorrow night and I am such a loser that I haven't gotten him anything yet and don't know if I can afford anything and am out of art supplies so I couldn't even paint something for him, I've gained about 10lbs in the past few months and all I can think about is someone harpooning me from the crowd when I walk down the aisle at my wedding as the "great white", I feel like I am in a vice right now and someone is cranking on it and won't stop.....total emotional vomit. sorry.

The brilliant thing is, I was able to bust out in all my mascara running glory in front of Geoff...

*SIDE NOTE* No humiliation there.

not only did he pray for me--because I was so upset that I didn't even know what to say, he said I was beautiful and reassured me we would be fine...and while he knows none of those things are an immediate fix to all of it, I know he loves me and I love him and quite frankly at that moment, that's all I needed.

I am tired and worried, but I am also thankful and hopeful. Total contradiction, but who the hell cares?

In the end, I am the one woman circus. The only thing is, I'm not nearly as amusing as the midget.

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