Jack went off to the NAMM convention down in Anaheim yesterday. He was supposed to be exchanging professional secrets with his deep industry contacts, but it sounds like there’s a fair amount of fanboy joy going down, too. Jack called last night and name-dropped ten famous-but-not-to-me bass players he’d met within his first hour on the floor. I’d put them down here so you could see if you know who they are, but their names all finished their drinks and excused themselves for a moment and then forced themselves out through the men’s room window that I thought I’d painted shut. Oh, but I do remember one! “I met Prince’s bass player,” he said. I remember that because Jack didn’t know his name either but we both know who Prince is. “Let me guess,” I said, “he’s a big black guy.” “Church guy,” said Jack, ignoring my racist racial profiling.
Anyway, last night Jack was in the Disneyland Hotel not watching porn and I was left in peace to do a few things at home. One was to ruthlessly pursue my quest to crush Brian at Word Twist on Facebook — he wins almost all of our games but now that he got laid off his mind is slipping he’s becoming less competitive and generously let me win a few he’s more brutal than ever. Secondly, I wanted to transcribe for you some of the best bits of this book of personal ads Antonia sent me for my birthday. Here are two favorites:
You were reading the BBC in-house magazine on the Jubilee Line (12 November), I was coughing hot tea through my nostrils. Surely you can’t have forgotten? Write now to smitten, weak-kneed, severely burned, bumbling F (32, but normally I look younger). I’ll be quite a catch when my top lip has healed. And this brace isn’t for ever. Box no. 7432.I am the literary event of 2007, or at the very least the most entertaining drunk on my ward. Please visit (Mon-Thurs, 5-7 p.m., bring chocolate, and gin). F, 41. Box no. 4365.
The third thing I did was watch Wit, which I’ve had for probably a month from Netflix. I kept trying to persuade Jack to watch it with me. “It’s directed by Mike Nichols!” I thought for sure that would pique his interest. “What’s it about?” he asked. “It’s about Emma Thompson dying of cancer,” I said brightly. I should have known he’d never watch a cancer movie in a billion years, even if William Holden and Ava Gardner both came back from the dead with a bottle of 40-year-old scotch and acted it out in front of him in their boxer shorts.
So I watched it last night by myself and cried my fucking eyes out. I needed a good cry but there’s usually too much going on for me to commit the time it takes to get good and worked up for one. But lately I’ve felt like I’ve had a sort of emotional cold and I needed to sit in front of an emotional humidifier with eucalyptus and a towel over my head to draw it out of me. I think you can have a cold in all parts of your body and this is because of my mother. I remember once when I was a kid my eye was a little red and puffy and my mother said, “Oh, you have a cold in your eye.” She gave me a damp washcloth to put on it and I laid down for an hour and the next day it was gone. Since then I’ve also been known to have a cold in my vagina, the flu in my lower back, and nostril plague. But this week was the first time I think I’ve ever felt like my heart needed to blow its nose. So it did, and I did, and Jackson was perfectly content in the other room eating pizza and doing his homework and watching a DVD of the first season of 30 Rock.
I can’t handle cancer movies.
I can hardly handle discussing or writing about cancer.
I have cancer phobia. When I get a headache, I immediately assume it’s a tumor.
I had a sore testicle about a year ago, and when my wife thought I was joking when I said it was probably testicular cancer, I was aghast. “You can’t be serious?” she asked. My reply? “Well, what the hell else could it be?” (Answer: nothing.)
Also, I’m a big sap who can’t handle movies that make one cry one’s eyes out. I think the last time I knowingly subjected myself to such a thing was to see “Philadelphia” when it first arrived in theaters. Tom Hanks’s character was unbelievably reminiscent of a close friend who also is gay and HIV positive. We all balled our friggin’ eyes out. I could start bawling just thinking about it.
Now see what you’ve done?
(P.S.: Cool new design.)
I know that feeling: I think of it as needing an occasional emotional sneeze. F, 37, NSOH, seeks absorbent gentleman to wipe herself on. Box 8145.
Hi Eden,
I have never posted but have read you for quite some time. In fact, you are perhaps my favorite blog to read. You have a brutal honesty and ability to lay yourself bare that is really amazing to read. Thank you.
I have had a serious emotional flu for sometime now. There is no vaccine.
My mom used to say that, too! (About the “cold in your eye.”) My brother used to imitate Arnold Schwarzeneger (wow. I really can’t spell that. Or can I?)all the time after ‘Kindergarten Cop’ came out, saying “It’s not a tumor.” 10 years later, it WAS a tumor. (Brain) Luckily, he survived. Coincidence? Yes. But,a very weird one.
I think I need to see that movie. Because in the last two years my mom got cancer, my dad’s alcoholism hit rock bottom, they divorced (and then reconciled when he got sober) and my love of 7 years unceremoniously dropped my ass like a hot potato. And I’ve yet to shed a tear over any of it. I’m starting to think that I’m cold and unable to love, or possibly dead inside. Perhaps maybe I’ve been so busy being strong for everyone else that I’ve yet to really feel any of it. Thanks for reminding me that I should probably do that. You know, take some time to feel it, let it sink in.
This made me chuckle. I think my heart needs to blow it’s nose too.
A cold in your vagina and the flu in your lower back. You, my dear, are hilarious.
When I get the emotional flu the only cure is a day devoted to hoop skirt movies. I watch Little Women and Gone With the Wind back to back and by the time I’m done I fell like my heart has had a refreshing enema.
Ohhh, I guess I have to get back on the Word Twist bandwagon with you guys! My work has been so slow this week, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I could have been playing that stupid game!
I cried yesterday at Broken English (have you seen that, so so good) which isn’t even that sad so apparently the need to cry is going around.
Lastly, I usually read you through my RSS reader – I love the new(?) brown Fussy!
I, too, am a Word Twist addict. Maybe I need to tear myself away for a good cry one of these days. It’s sounds cathartic.
My Mom still thinks you can catch a cold by going outside with wet hair and no hat. She kept a box of hats in the closet and used to force my friends to leave with a hat if they didn’t arrive with one. To this day, you can’t tell her you catch a cold from germs.
Glad you had a good cry, even if only so you could write about your heart needing to blow its nose. Brilliant.
Wit. Can’t. Speak. Right. Now. So. Painful.
I remember well the last time I saw it – it wasn’t the first time I had seen it, by the way. I saw it with my mother. We were on vacation and watched it in a hotel room because it was on the only English language channel. Later that year, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and too much of that movie came true in my life. I don’t think I will ever watch it again.
I couldn’t cry at the hospital, at the funeral, ever. Then 6 weeks later they killed off Mark Greene on ER and I totally lost it. Catharsis, I guess.
I saw “Hotel for Dogs” today and Don Cheadle gave me an eye irritation. A sucker is me.
So … um … did Jack meet Bryan Beller?
I know people have talked about “needing a good cry” but I get hangovers from crying. Puffy eyes that hurt all day and give me a headache. Therefore, I have trained myself not to cry. Unless I am at a wake or funeral–then I lose it and have trouble managing the tissues and eye make up. Probably rookie mistakes.
I totally know the pent-up-ness of needing to blow one’s heart. Cancer movies don’t do it for me. For some reason it’s like not real to me. And I don’t want it to be.
Joy Luck Club usually does it for me. Extremities like leaving your two infants under a tree with all you owned in the way of jewelry, that works for me.
I cut a personal ad out of the Austin Chronicle back in something like 1990 and taped it to a card in my Rolodex so I would never lose it. It says, “Bitter, disillusioned SWM seeks cynical SWF for mutual disappointment.
A cold in your vagina? Suggest you remove the Popsicle.
THANK YOU.
And I don’t get the title.
*Ahem*
The title is from one of the personal ads in the book.
I’ve never had a cold in my vagina, but I get diarrhea of the mouth all the time.
Bludog – Mark’s final episode of ER is my go to I-could-use-a-good-cry remedy. As soon as I hear the opening notes of that Israel Kamakawiwo`ole version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World, I lose it.
Did you see ER a couple of weeks ago when Mark made a guest appearance? I blubbered like a baby.
My old boss lives in the same building as him, and I was always afraid I’d meet him in the elevator. I probably would have embarrassed myself by clutching at him and sobbing “Oh, Mark!”
(Did I mention that I get diarrhea of the mouth every now and then?)
I have wanted to see Wit for a while, but no way I could get the hubby to watch it. I tricked him into going to see Rachel Getting Married (“it’s funny!” I said, “like Terms of Endearment”) and he’s never going to let me forget it. It wasn’t even that sad, just emotional, which he hates.
That is hilarious! My grandmother taught me that you can get a cold anywhere too! I usually get them in my back, my brother gets them in one eye. I have never heard of anyone else that believes that!
I can totally relate to the emotional cold. I’m just now getting over a 30 year case of the flu.
Love the new masthead. I really liked it when it momentarily said only “F – U”. Beautiful!
When I used to get a cold, I’d freak out and tell my mom that I was sick and she’d just take one look at me and say “No you’re not, you’re just pretending.” Amazingly enough, that convinced me I was fine most of the time.
I need to cry too! Wit, you say? might have to try it. PS I Love You didn’t do it for me, but I had an audience. I need an alone time movie cry. The back of my eye sockets have been burning for three weeks!
I generally like a good depressing movie but Wit was lately I’ve been too busy PLAYING WORD TWIST BY MYSELF to watch any dvds.
(Ahem.)
U R Brilliant.
I love when I good movie can reach down your throat and get your heart pumping again. Thanks for the story and will add Wit to my Netflix order.
Wit was definitely hard to watch, but Emma Thompson blew me away in that film. She was just. so. good. Amazing.