I interview me, again, and will probably regret it

I was going to put in very recent pictures of me, but wimped out. Here’s the ensuing conversation

I: Don’t you feel stupid?

Me: Yes

I: We have eyes, where are they?

Me: You didn’t want to wear any make-up. Go for the natural look you said. Just lip gloss. And a fake tan from towelletes which are kind of cool.

When did makeup become a chore and not a pleasure. Sometimes getting ready was the fun part of the night?

I: You never listen to me. Why did you let us pose?

Me: You took over. You refused to let me philosophize on how putting on makeup helped make us a deep thinker. We spent so much time doing it. And we discovered that beige in the crease, brown in the lid makes deep set eyes look larger.

I: I’m in total need of a break, needed you to be strong. For once you behaved. You always have to have the last word. Now you do nothing.

Me: Hey, I thought of buying a power strip for Savannah two the laptop, the Ipod, the new Bose headphones, the camera, the clarasonic skin brush which can double as a nail brush, the cell and the toothbrush. Now we need a manicure and pedicure.

I: You’re so shallow. You need to do laundry, clean and pack.

Me: Why me? Don’t you do anything?

I: I put the music in the Ipod.

Me: You’re predictable. Even eat breakfast for breakfast. We have the frigging Subdudes, Warren Zevon, John Hiatt, Roseanne Cash, Motown, the CD of great 60’s death songs,Annie Lennox, Ben Harper…

I: Welcome to the cruel world, shut up, and I won’t let you listen to “You must be an angel, tonight,” on the Bose. Remember the first time we heard it on the Walkman? Heaven, we found heaven on earth at Jones Beach.

Me: We deserve a vacation. We better see some real music. And I want us to walk on the beach for endless hours each day.

I: If we spend two hours a day blogging. And another two hours writing. We can break it up. Maybe.

Me: You are so rigid. A vacation’s supposed to be about giving into fun.

I: That’s life. You should begin thinking about giving into middle age. And fun is what it is.

Me: Never. When we’re eligible for Medicare, we can entertain the thought. Where are all the books we’re going to bring?

I: We can read Ian Rankin, Peter Robinson, Jeff Abbot, Marcia Muller, though we can’t bring hardcovers….we’re not giving up mysteries, but first we have to be productive.

Me: Isn’t that the family crest? Productivity reigns. We have to do fun things.

I: Funny. First we have to do the laundry, and clean this apartment, so that we can once again feel superior to the organizing shows on HGTV

Me: You’re hard. Why the hell didn’t we wait for the frigging pictures?
Rafe was supposed to do them. He used to be a photographer for NASA and could have done our hair in different fun styles, and he wouldn’t have let us forget to do our make up.

I:You were. Didn’t forget. Didn’t want to, remember?

Me: That was dumb. When did we go from being pale and Irish or Slavic looking to Native American? And when did our hair go from being uncontrollable to what you used to call “rich girl hair?” Though it goes back to frizzy

I: Can we cut this conversation and do something productive?

Me: Productive. That’s all you ever think about, being productive. We should have been like Marie Dana.

I: You want to be like somebody who had a beer belly at 25? Her idea of a good time, besides hounding old men, was playing quarters in a teen-age boys apartment. And we would never live with an old man to get his estate.

Me: You wouldn’t. I loved listening to “The Wall” over and over again. Marie was fun. She always had a rich man supporting her. You think that women should be completely self-sufficent. Cold bitch. She didn’t hound them. They adored her, beer belly and all because there was something sexy about her.

And you wouldn’t let us go to Lips last night to see a drag show and eat.

I: We’re not on good terms with food right now.

Me: No, you didn’t want to be out late and to drink or have fun with old friends. They had a great time.

I: We needed our strength.

Me: For what? Doing stupid get ready for trip things. We didn’t even do half the things we meant to.

I: You began to play with the camera and explore the vast world that lives in it. It was your idea. The bad ones always are.

We decide to finish this conversation in private where we can really show how shallow we can be. But first we are really really happy that Sar won best political blog in the blogs of summer.

We showed them that a liberal woman with a mix of everything could win a contest. It was short, sweet and fun, unlike a few other contests we know.

I won’t be around blogs for a few days because I do need a total break from life as I have known it for two years. Before that I was a reporter and took stories with me. Why am I defending my need to have a vacation? From blogging. Something that costs me but can be much fun.

And buy Steph Klein‘s book. Straight up and Dirty. She’s a Long Islan bred blogger who moved to Manhattan and is currently trying out life away from New York, and I sure empathize with that.

If I hadn’t followed her into BE on November 14, 2004, I still would be clueless about blogging, and not have met any of you.

From now on when I feel the need to blog about an issue, I will put it in a page.
While I left comments open, I hope that they aren’t misused.