NAH-TAH-SHAH!

When I was 15 years old, I broke up with a guy who can only be remembered fondly if I twist my memories around and think of him as an experience that I learned from…and what I would never do again. For whatever reason, he called me Natash. And looking back, it’s probably because he was too dumb to realize there was an extra “A.” After we broke up, I hated anyone shortening my name at all. It was a reminder of this moron that I dated. Well, lo and behold one fall morning at my high school. I was a sophomore and ready to learn (or ditch…maybe learn a new way to ditch? Yeah, that’s what I was learning!) and he, after a whole summer of us not speaking or seeing each other, insisted on talking to me. When he approached me, I felt like I was cornered. And we did that silly dance that you do with people who are walking in opposite directions, and yet constantly walking into the other one’s path. When I finally broke free, I walked down a stairwell…rather rapidly. And he was following me shouting, “Natash, Natash, I want to talk to you! Natash, I need to talk to you! Natash!” This shortening sent me into mega-mad overload and I yelled to him, “My name is Natah-AH you moron! It’s not like you’re so busy you need to drop one syllable!” That sidelined his progression to a halt. Don’t get me wrong, I would encounter such an episode weekly, and would even look forward to what I could yell at him. It became a game in fact. For the next 5 years or so, I insisted no one change my name or shorten it. I became lax about it when I met one of my best friends in 2001. He always called me Tash. When I got my tattoo (and that’s a WHOLE other story) he would yell to me periodically to make sure I was okay. “Tash! Tash!” When he died in 2005, again, I was apprehensive about shortening my name.
This morning’s revelation: for the last 8 months or so, everyone has somehow decided to call me Tashy. I don’t know if all my friends decided to have a meeting and decide on a new name for me or if I now exude the qualities of a Tashy they once knew, or if I exude the qualities of all the Tashy’s before me. What a conundrum. I’m sure a Sara never had to go through this. Their biggest name qualm would be along the lines of, “ No, there is no H. Sara with no H.” I guess we all have our crosses to bear.

if looks could kill I would be an uzi

Last night we went to a bar, and I think I am the only person in the world not in the Christmas spirit. In fact, I was raining on everyone else’s hijinks too. But, to preface this, the guy totally deserved it. Ok, so we are sitting there, consuming internal sweaters and this dhu-runk older guy comes up to us. He starts talking to my friend and I just look away. This is what I do. There is no need to impede upon Mr. Drunk guy hitting on said friend. She can handle herself. So then Drunkie McDrunkerson (he was Scottish) insists on introducing himself to me. “What’s your name?” insert drunken hand shoved in my face. “Natasha.” “Mamasha?” “No, N as in Natasha.” “Mamasha?” “Yes fine. That’s my name. My mom had marbles in her mouth when she named me.” Insert me yanking my hand away from the over zealous drunk guy. He got the hint and went back to my friend. When he realized she wasn’t responding he staggered away. Ok, so now insert the guy that just makes me hope for Armageddon next week. And then I’ll go into my theory about him. This guy JUST witnessed the OG drunk guy strike out. Why he sauntered over, I will never know. But he makes his way towards us and goes into this whole “Hey man, what happened there? He had no game, huh?” Ok, at this point I’ve takes all I can takes and I can’t takes no more. “Why are you here?” “Well, I was just wondering why he left.” “Oh, do you mean the creepy drunk guy that had no chance whatsoever?” “Well, you didn’t need to shoot him down like that.” “Well, why don’t you two creepy ass drunk guys go conjure up a game plan over there? And when he starts creeping YOU out, then we can compare notes on how YOU left. Up until that time, you sir, also have no chance. Have a good night.” He walked away. Creepy drunk guys-0, Natasha’s verbal kick to the balls-2
Ok, so that may have been kinda harsh. But here is my theory on him. He is the guy that at 28…30…32…36 even was thinking to himself, “there is no way I’m going to settle down! I’m just going to sleep around and hit on girls at bars. And all my friends that got married are idiots. I get a hot girl every night.” Now, fast forward 20 or so years. He is alone, on a Sunday night at a bar frequented by people in their late twenties or early thirties. He honestly believes that he is amazing and hot and can still score. The sad fact remains that he cannot. All his friends that he made fun of are at home with their families during this holiday season. Possibly with children or grandchildren. This is more than a tragic tale. This is a Goofus and Gallant that is way more pertinent than “remember to not take the last apple.”

I wish, I wish, I wish, I were a fish

Things remembered…the night I went to see Sweeny Todd with my friends, I apparently said something in the car that can only be described as “very telling.” Telling what exactly, I don’t know, but telling nonetheless. Let me paint a verbose picture for you. My friend picks me up, I am…how do you say…a sheet or two blowing in the wind, and my stream of conscience just would not shut up. She said she was over some sort of encounter and therefore no longer wanted to be a person. I told her she was preaching to the choir and I’ve been wanting to be a color for a couple of months now. The color thing is harder than it seems. To be just a color and wearing the color SO does not count. After I realized that I could be anything in this little game we made up, I decided I really wanted to be a fish. Now, here is where the telling part comes in. In my state of no judgment and speaking more to myself than to her, I realized I wanted to be an ugly fish so no one would want to keep me in their house. I also came to the fishy conclusion that I wanted to taste horrible so no one would want to eat me. I want to be an unappetizing ugly water creature. I don’t want to be studied, so the cool fish at the bottom of the sea that light up are out. A blowfish would be fun, except that everyone would want to scare me just so I will puff out. Jerks. Halibut would be awesome because they have two eyes on one side of their head and are constantly camouflaged on the oceans bottom. But…halibut are delicious, and therefore a no go. Sharks are scary and make a fine Chinese soup with their fins. So I’ve heard. I wont eat something that could potentially smell their brother off of me during the summer. Revenge is a fish best served cold. Whale, no. Jellyfish…no. (I also don’t want to be in a Sea World type place. And no to aquariums, too) People catch seahorses just to dry them out and pin them somewhere. Huge no. I need to really think about the kind of fish I wanna be. Ugly and unappetizing and no one will want to study. Just left alone to swim all over and do what I want…this has to be textbook psychology, right?

life goes on

It has been a week of work I thought I would never have to experience. Death is easy for the dead, hell on the living. But in the past week, I have also had some really…bizarre situations. My new thing is falling asleep on the couch. I end up desperately trying to catch up on the day’s news events and end up zonked out by the first commercial break. My roommate usually waltzes in at an a.m. time and wakes me to then go to bed. My bed. Not my new couch bed. Another new thing that happened is my roommate and best friend got me a fish. I’ve wanted one for so long. My roommate and I feed it and just watch it eat…and then spit it out. I think my fish is bulimic. No, I really do. My fish has body dismorphic disorder. She thinks her fins make her look chubby. We need to go into counseling. Poor fat fishy. You’re not fat, you’re voluptuous.
Last night my friend’s and I went to see Sweeny Todd. My friend’s friend’s dressed up. It reminded me of when I was in high school and every weekend I would go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show and dress up. At first you think, “ Damn, I am so with it and in the know!!” But then during the movie…your dress starts riding up. Your shoes really start pinching. Was it this cold in here always? I wish I were wearing jeans. Would it be weird if I brought a blanket? Maybe I’ll bring a blanket next time. But then they’re really going to make fun of me. I should bring a poncho that way when they pick on me next week and squirt their water gun at me, I can remain somewhat dry. But knowing that jerk Jeff, he’s probably going to crawl over and shoot under the poncho. Damn, I hate Jeff.
But lucky for me, I didn’t have any of that thought process. Until right now, I mean. I was cozy and comfortable…until we went outside. May I just say I really am eagerly anticipating global warming. Last night was Siberian husky cold. What was the deal with that? Bone chilling. We live in Los Angeles for a reason!!! I mean, in addition to the occasional celebrity sighting and an array of venues to keep our minds from never having to actually think about the important things, we live here for the weather!!!!

Judith Meuli

This morning/last night was single handedly the best/worst time of my life. My mentor in life and the reason for who I am passed away. I was bedside and got to hold her hand as she made her way out. She was a remarkable woman. She was one of the founding members of NOW and of the Feminist Majority. She hid it from me well for quite some time, but as I was working along side her, I quickly caught on. I consider her one of my best friends. But she was so much more than that. She was a confidant and an ally. She was a supporter and made my life into something I never thought possible. The last couple of weeks, I could see her deteriorating, but was really trying to be optimistic. It only gets you so far. Cancer is a nasty disease and all the optimism in the world can’t fight it. Last week we went to the UCLA Medical center and I insisted she play Scrabble with me while she get her blood transfusion. While her partner was out of the room (and Jude was still kicking my ass) she told me that this was her absolute favorite time ever at UCLA because she was just having fun and actually forgot what we were there for. That made my life. She was surrounded by people who love her. We were all telling stories and laughing and having a great time with each other and with Judith. We knew it was only a matter of time; I’m just surprised it went so fast. As she released her last breath I can swear I saw a smile creep across her face. And if it’s only in my head, so be it. But that’s not what the history books will say. Not if I have anything to do with it. I only hope I can have such a beautiful departure.

Late night encounters of the third kind

After a long day in which I learned the fate of one of my best friends, I needed a break. A major break. When I came home, I thought I was just going to go to sleep. It was an exhausting day. So my roommate and a friend and I decided to go to a neighborhood bar. For loud music that makes us not be able to think and drinks that fulfill the same purpose, obviously. So we go and have a great time. It was a much needed diversion. We played songs on the jukebox and sang and danced and end up having a ball. My roommate and I ended up having a discussion about why I was so emotionally detached from current situations and I explained my emotions can only go towards one thing at once. I totally won that round. Anywho, as we were heading out I hear a “HOLY SHIT, NATASHA!!!” And as I turn, I am hoping it’s someone I actually want to see. No such luck. It’s two, count ‘em, two, people that I went to high school with. “Oh my god, how are you?” “ Oh, I’m fine. How are you?” There was a guy that I have actually known since the second grade and a girl that I never really even seen since high school and don’t really remember her that well. The girl would not stop saying how much she missed me and my jokes. Really? I don’t remember even having a conversation with her. But apparently I leave a lasting impression. I asked if they go to the bar often and how I live about three blocks away and bla bla bla. So we have plans to meet tomorrow. I stopped going to malls so I don’t have to speak to these people. There is a reason I haven’t spoken to them since high school. There is a reason I never spoke to her in high school. Is there nowhere safe that I can go to not see people I used to know? I hate the world getting smaller when all I want is an island where I don’t know the people and don’t have to hear “holy shit, Natasha!” on a bi weekly bases. It’s good to be remembered, but things are getting slightly out of had. Maybe a visit to Dr. 90210 will remedy the situation

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...so I hear

When I came home today, my roommate was washing dishes and saw me at the window before I came in. His face was uber excited and I thought he was mocking me because it’s the face I always have. When I went to the door, I heard him running to open it for me. He blocked me from coming in and told me to close my eyes. Ok, I’m down for this game. So with my eyes closed he led me inside. I had no idea what I was in store for. He told me to open my eyes and lo and behold, he got a Christmas tree! A baby LCD light that you plug in, but it’s SO freaking awesome I jumped up and down and just started screaming. I think my reaction was better than he anticipated because he was speechless. It’s the little things…it really is. This is the closest I’ve ever been to having anything remotely Christmas since I was about 12. I’m not Santa just yet, but I’m not Scrooge either. WAIT!!! I may be the Grinch. Doesn’t he end up liking Christmas at the end? I don’t remember since I haven’t seen it or cared to since I was about 12. See above. My roommate can kick your roommates ass!

Talking to strangers is the new black

Bodhi and I lost a member of our family…moment of silence. Please remove your hats. I returned Scooba. It was not that hard of a decision. I get to the mall and holy crap, it’s like St. Nick threw up on the place. I hate Christmas. That’s fine, I just need to get to the store, talk to the worker person, and walk out a ton lighter. As soon as I walk in I hear “MISS BAKODY!!!” Ruh roh. I turn around to see one of my former students that I had during my first year at Madison. “Oh my god, hi…. (I look down and thank god he had a name tag on)…John! You work here?” “Yeah! Do you need help with anything?” “Yeah, I need to get rid of this hunk of junk and return it. Can you help me?” “ Sure.” As I head to the cashier, I realize he is no longer behind me. I end up having to talk to one of the other worker peeps. “Hi, how can I help you?” “Hello, I would like to return this. I have all the parts and packaging and receipt and what not.”
Her- ok, lemme see
Me- here ya go…
Her- (uber long pause)…um, ma’am, you have used this.
Me- Yes, I know, that’s how and why I know it doesn’t work.
Her-Yes, but you used it…
Me- Well, I had to use it in order to see if I liked it, and I don’t so I don’t want it anymore. And I’m within my allotted time frame to return it.
Her- This is dirty.
Me- Yes it is. Its primary function is to remove dirt so chances are it would be dirty. Now see, if I was returning, say, a sanitary device that only was made to be sanitary, it would be clean if I returned it. But being that the Scooba’s main purpose for existing is to clean up dirt, chances are that it would be dirty.
Her- But you didn’t even clean it.
Me- I decided to clean up Scooba as much as he cleaned my floors: not much.
Her-(Rolling her eyes at my constant verbal backhanding) let me go see what I can do.
She ends up leaving for about 20 minutes. During this time my former student sashays up next to me, “So, how are you?” “I’m great thanks. Are you at Grant now?” “No, I’m home schooled.” “WHAT? WHY? You’re so smart. Why did you do that?” “I’m getting all A’s and B’s. I am doing well!”
And that’s when it hit me like a flash: I absolutely hated this kid! He was such a liar. He would look you dead in the eye and attempt to convince you that he was mayor. But he would believe it. I don’t know how many times he would all of a sudden walk around class and I would say, “ John, what are you doing?” His response was, “I’m going to the bathroom.” “Um, dude…you need to ask for permission” (and yes, I used to call the kids dude, amongst other things.) “But Miss Natasha, I did ask you and you said yes.” “John…was I asleep? Did you ask me while I was in a coma? Or, oh wait, were you asleep and this was a dream you had?” Every single day, the same freaking thing with this kid. What a douche! I honestly didn’t like him. Anyway, as I was flashing on how I always wanted to drop kick this kid, the lady came back and without looking at me asked for my card and receipt and completed my return. Oh happy day. I thanked her and wished her a happy holiday. Then, as I was heading out, I bid John adu and high tailed it out of there hoping not to see anyone else I knew. I walked out a ton lighter, my wallet a ton heavier, and my people confrontation skills a ton sharper. My new goal…no more malls till 2009. You never know which ghost from your past is likely to haunt you.

I wanna sell out

Reasons I’m glad I’m not famous:
I went to the bank by our place wearing my yoga pants that say, “get lucky” on the butt. I didn’t think anything of it until I started getting catcalls and what not. I had no idea what was happening until I realized what I was wearing and thought… ”ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I deserve it.” If I were poor Brit Brit, it would have been all over TMZ and Perez.
I rap in my car. And when you rap, you have to do the arm movements. I’m glad it’s not photographed.
At home, Bodster and I make up lame games when watching TV and when one of us gets it right, we crazy high five each other.
People come to our place at all hours on Tuesday’s because they know we’ll be home because we made a crazy TV schedule. We can only speak during the commercial breaks. If we were being filmed…oh boy!
I leave bars…unlike Natasha.
I get excited over little things but in a big way. I embarrass those around me. But not me. I make me happy.
If I don’t know you, don’t be surprised if I ignore you. If I don’t ignore, expect an inappropriate joke. Thank God it’s not being recorded for posterity.

I still want the Waffle Maker though...

I blow out speakers on a regular bases. I listen to music too loud for my own good. The reason: I don’t really know. I like not being able to listen to anything else, my own thoughts included perhaps? I realized it when I was listening to an album on my comp and it sounded better turned down which totally sucks. In my car, same dealio. I still blast it though. It makes me feel gangsta. Just kidding. Or am I, son?
So today I went to Target for some retail therapy. I think it may have made a dent in my current state. I purchased a Hello Kitty water dispenser for my room that is so cute it makes you wanna puke! I also got a five-piece Hello Kitty bowl-plate-cup-silverware set. It was between that and the Transformers one. I decided on the Kitty because I wanted my roommate to question his sexuality if he used it for his num nums. I also got an owl jacket that was made to be worn by a 12-year-old girl. It fits like a glove. I don’t know if that’s sadder for 12-year-old girls or for me. When I was a baby, Clash of the Titans came out and apparently I used to run into things just like the owl in the movie. My dad started calling me owl and it kinda stuck. Well, more than kinda. It totally stuck. Tomorrow my roommate and I are going to the light festival because we are both encountering pretty heavy emotional issues and I’m hoping that seeing a bunch of lights will help. Wait, why the hell would looking at lights help? Oooo, shiny...life doesn’t seem so bad. Wow, check out Santa! I’m in a better place! Look at those reindeer! All is right with the world! That sounds so manufactured and ignorant. If lights helped I would have illuminated everything I encounter. Maybe we’ll just stay home and watch House.