Once upon a time...

Last night all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I came home, had a friend over from school, (‘cause I’m five years old? That sounds so lame) we ate and I asked him what was the haps with his life. He gave me some pretty heart crushing news and we ended up talking for about an hour outside. I told him he is now the equivalency of a remote control that you insist on still using and try to make it work by pushing the buttons harder. Not admitting that you need to recharge the batteries or get new ones or whatever you crazy kids do now a days with you and your batteries. He got it and said, “Natasha, that is exactly how I feel! Damn, you are good!” I know. It’s a gift. Random analogies are my contribution to the world at large. Anyway, when I came back inside, I was a little worse for the wear and all I wanted to do was sleep. My dim sum and then some friend insisted on reading me a story. I don’t know why, I don’t get it, I don’t know what spawned this. But, I said fine. She ended up starting to read me the saddest bastard story I had ever come across. What the hell is that? I turned to her and said, “This isn’t going to work. I want a happy book. Let me choose a book.” She got more than a little irritated. As I’m looking, she says she wants to read some book about starfish. I tell her no. Then I start talking to her and I tell her a story about when I was in high school and she had the audacity to tell me to stop talking, she wants to read to me. At this point, I sit up in bed and tell her, “I didn’t want to be read to, I just wanted to talk to you!” She noticed that she was acting more than a little Mommy Dearest and said, “I’m going to the living room to finish my beer.” I am 26. My friend is 27. And yet I still somehow managed to have the worst night of my childhood with someone who wasn’t even present in my childhood. I hope she gets me a toy today to make up for it. Oh my God, that would SO make up for it! I need to go plant the seed of toy in her brain. Toys are so much better than flowers and chocolate.

Tanner is wise beyond his three years

Last night one of my friends spent the night. This means I have to entertain someone else in the morning and not just entertain myself. Well, in my half-sleep/ half awake state, I started telling her a story about when I was five. My mom had closed an account and had all these blank checks that were useless, so she gave them to me to play with. I’m sure she thought I was going to write checks to the grocery store, or the mechanic or somewhere where I actually saw her write checks. She was more than a little amused when she saw that I wrote out a check for one million dollars to Toys ‘R’ Us. When she asked me why I wrote it out to there, I calmly stated that it was because I liked toys. Now, if I base this little episode on my nephew Tanner’s logic, that means that I was, in fact, a little kid and not the young lady I was constantly reminded to behave like. My mom still has the check. I still like toys.

She Should Have Been More Specific

When I was about 20, I went through a break-up. It wasn’t horrible, but it was enough to make me cry. So I called one of my best friends who happens to be a gay male for comfort. You know, tell me how fierce I am, tell me I’m better off without him, and sing to me. My friends and I sing to each other. What? You don’t? So he started to sing “My Cherie Amour” by Stevie Wonder. This should have worked but it made me start crying harder instead. Perplexed, he asked me what was wrong, “What happened? I’m trying to cheer you up.” In between sobs I explained,” I always wanted a guy I loved and who loved me back to sing that to me…but now I realize I should have been more specific!!!”
When I was little, my mom used to sing “Forever Young,” by Rod Stewart to me. I think she was thinking the exact same sentiment of being more specific when I showed her my awesome new purchase…BEHOLD!


It's also a voice changer. Autobots, roll out!