do over: I only wore the ugly shoes because you’re short

in my world, there are about three general responses i could have when i run into an Ex in the street.

1.Point and laugh.

2.Vomit.

3.Run.

(sometimes a combo.)

i imagine it is awkward under even the best of circumstances. not that i can really imagine what the best circumstances would be. perhaps:

1. You run into your Ex on the way into the book signing for your best selling novel.

hillary duff booksigning

“oh. hello…who is this made out to? jerkface? how do you spell that?”

2. You run into your Ex in the crowd at the ribbon cutting ceremony your hometown has just put on commemorating the library and park erected in your honor.
giant scissor

“oh. hello. could you hold my giant scissor?”

3.You run into your Ex at the airport baggage claim returning from your honeymoon in the Maldives with your new wife who is a rockstar-slash-underwear model-slash-biochemist. 
hot chemist

“that guy? i bet he knows nothing about the practical importance of a phenomenological theory of particles.” or “oh”

or

4.You run into your Ex in a late model pickup truck or SUV with stolen plates… reverse, and do it again. Then drive off into the night, cackling, vengeance yours.

truck

“boom”

I’m kidding.

Sorta.

but there’s always that one person from your past where the relationship went sour like milk and you wouldn’t even want to run into them in the street without a Nobel Peace Prize in one hand and a can of ‘told-ya-so’ in the other and yet you still effing do.  i know a guy like that.

in the first years and a half since that break-up i ran into that guy five times.
five fingers

FIVE.

(one of the run-ins was a semi-drunken late night exchange in front of a 24-hour McDonald’s walk-up window.  his friend threw a chicken mcnugget at my friend’s head. nothing good can come from french fries at 2am. nothing.)

my mother still occasionally asks
“whatever happened to that guy? he had such nice teeth!”
right. you know who else have perfect teeth, ma?
tom

sociopaths.

at first, i’d practice all the scathing remarks and perfectly arched eyebrows that would speak volumes, specifically “eat shit volumes 1 and 2”– that is, just in case i’m not walking with my rhodes scholar super hot french and cameroonian life partner because she’s off leading a pilates retreat in mexico that week.
or, alternately, pretend i am method acting for the lead in a movie about a blind woman by specifically not seeing him.
(constantly wearing sunglasses aids this method considerably)
or, channel my inner ancient ninja and disappear into a rice paddy or the crowd of hustling rush hour commuters.
but, none of these are the right thing to do. as i’ve said – with me as well as with jennifer aniston— the best response may be to ‘just keep livin’, but the best revenge is to
live well.
 
so even if my future life partner IS really a rockstar and a master yoga instructor teaching a course in mexico… but isn’t here with me at the moment of concern because i don’t actually know her yet– i STILL should act as tho’ oprah is about to endorse my book on the OWN network by next week. because without the drama from that guy in my life i AM living better than well.
double rainbow
ok, ok, ok. all of that best inner life, fully transcendant stuff is all well and good.
but if i WAS to run into that guy again, there’d be ONE snarky thing i would definitely have to say:
“I only wore the ugly shoes because you’re short”
ugly sneakers
that would probably settle that.
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f-yeah a-ha moments

11th hour ideas are always bittersweet.

boy with good idea

ding!

you may bask in the glory of your success. you may marvel about how you are a genius and wave passerby over to marvel with you. (hey! party in my cubicle! there’s cake!)

party cake

party time. excellent.

someone needs to call the huffington post or anderson cooper right now because this unprecedented feat of awesome right here needs to be documented.

people from different departments are standing in the hallway pointing at you and whispering “that’s the one! that’s the one who [insert awesome thing here]” before they shyly amble over and join the listening party.  you are  regaling them with the story of your awesomeness and the speakerphone conference call from the CEO who no one has ever actually seen in person made just to congratulate YOU. everyone laughs at the punchline of your jokes. you have never been more charismatic. (is the camera crew for the office newsletter here yet? put on some lipstick.)

vintage lady photographer

be sure to get my good side, sister

you’re hi-fiving, the accolades are collecting in your in-box. steve from accounting hands you a slice of sheet cake. that hottie you see with the yogamat in the elevator but can never muster up the courage to say more than “hi” to  is leaning over your cubicle wall. you notice in your monitor screen the rosy glow that basking in awesome has given you. and you smile. this is your romance novel ending.

but

there is a part of you that wonders how much better this idea would have/could have been had you thought of it say, three weeks ago.

you feel a teeny tiny bit like a fraud.

sad puppy

[insert secret sadface here]

teeny.

is there a style of meditation that you can look into to tap into this core, say at the 8th hour perhaps? or at least in enough time to do a revision or two?

[ask the hottie from the elevator what style yoga they do. wink wink.]

pretty woman holding yoga mat

hi.

the glory of the 11th hour idea is its own miraculous nature. don’t go looking a gift-idea in the mouth. nay! and whats the  big idea calling it a “gift”? those sleepless nights you spent tossing and turning (or drinking) and nail-biting and wondering WTFAMIGONNADOOOOODEARGOD is certainly just as stressful, if not more so, than sitting at a monitor toiling and toiling away.

woman biting pencil

the best part about 11th hour ideas  is that in the end, not only are you awesome but you make it look easy. the worst part about making it look easy is that people may actually think that it is. the last thing you want is for your boss/parents/potential co-signers to think that you are bullshitting them. granted, the level of bullshit depends on how awesome your execution is. but obviously 11th hour execution is part of your magic.

magic hat

..and for my next trick: Q3 reports!

you could make that work for you. “I Specialize in Awesome 11th Hour Ideas”

thumbs up

website tagline: done

but the thing about 11th hour ideas is they come as just as much as a surprise to you as they do to everyone else. perhaps tony robbins has a book about how to harness this energy? if not, he should.

awaken the giant within

i love this guy

or YOU should. “Tapping Into You Innate Accidental Awesomeness” written by: you.

i’d buy that shit. i’d want you and tony robbins to be my life coach.

but for now it’s a celebration. frame that email from your boss. steve from accounting just bought everyone a round of shots. that bitch with the cat posters who sits across from you looks more sour in the face than usual. yoga hottie just pulled up a stool next to you. tonight, is your night.

tomorrow morning you’ll start writing the great american self-help book…

or… you know, eventually.

i want lisa bonet to be my life coach

lisa bonet

professor bonet/moon

I want to take a self-improvement course with Lisa Bonet as life coach.  Anybody who has been wedded to or life-partnered by both Lenny Kravitz AND Jason Momoa needs to teach a  class.

Anybody who has been wedded to or life-partnered by both Lenny AND Jason and can have them both whipped   hypnotized   blasted on peyote or some other natural yet eclectic hallucinogenic  on good terms off the strength of her abilty to make any scenario in which she is involved infintely cooler needs to teach a class, write two books  with diagrams and quizzes and  have a motivational speaking tour.

She makes things like this happen.

She makes things like this happen.

She’s bohemian, creative, mysterious, independent and gorgeous — all the top things that I had on my ‘when i grow up list’. Controversally (at the time) nude in a film as opposed to the more popular and timely naked on the internets via cameraphone, she’s famous for the body of work that she’s done and not for getting out of limos with no panties on unlike  so many other actresses who grew up on camera. Not that I am assuming that shes never participated in ‘crazy hollywood’ behavior. She’s just better at keeping it underwraps. Managing how to do that could be a class on its own.

lisa bonet yoge

obviously she is skillful at amazing feats of balance

When she randomly pops up in some big buget movie or prime time TV show its like a blip. Its like peripherally seeing a ghost. You say- “hey wasn’t that-?” but then she’s gone before you can finish the sentence.

She was  everyone’s favorite Huxtable  kid. And A Different World lost more than a little when she left. Whitley Gilbert was not an acceptable stand in, IMO.

Nice Try.

(sidenote: You can just tell Whitley Gilbert was like a third generation Jack &Jill kid. Does that make me jealous? A little bit.)

(sidenote: I’m wearing the  skirt she has on right now.)

Anyway, this How To Win At Life class would probably be taught somewhere kind of like the  Learning Annex,  keeping it accessable because Professor Bonet/Moon (in my head) seems like the kind of person that would want to empower the masses.  There would be field trips to visit practicing shamans and to planetariums  and to local artisans who would give a lesson on how to make our own hand tooled (vegan) leather knapsacks and jewellry.

Vanessa Paredis would be a guest lecturer. Angelina Jolie would  come too, but she’s in a helicopter working on the syllabus for her own class next semester.

When I was just a lower case k, we used to play the Lets Pretend to be Characters from that Popular TV Show game.  When we played Brady Bunch I had to be Jan. If we were playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles I had to be  Irma.  And that tells you everything you need to know about me as a kid.  I understood my role in society and in the afterschool game hierarchy.I accepted it. But if it was The Cosby Show day it was game ON. I didn’t care who I was in life currently I was practicing for who I was going to be.

And technically, I was more a ‘Rudy’ (precocious, borderline annoying, youngest sibling that the older kids alternately ingored, treated like a pet, or tried to force feed non-food objects)  than a ‘Denise’ (bohemian helion whose parents knew  was smoking weed upstairs but were too tired from life to ask about it). And as  I grew, I became more of a ‘Vanessa’ type teen (awkwardly trying to emmulate what they saw the older kids doing before they all took off for places unknown like ‘college’ or ‘overseas’ or ‘band roadie’ but was about seven-to-ten years too late. Like a Deadhead anytime after… well, ever.)

Happily, I’ve gotten my life more evened out now. I think I’ve come into my own a little bit more from thinking asymmetrical haircuts were cool, (technically seven years too early).  I’m doing my own thing. But I truly think my life would  benefit- the world would benefit from a signed copy of the take home manual and audio lecture  on CD.