Klutzy

I was all excited to open this post with a song lyric.  Belle & Sebastian’s “Act of the Apostles II,” which I thought contained the lyric “I’m a genius / a prodigy / My sad sighs / are up for a prize.”  Prize-winning Sad Sighs??  Yes, please.

Turns out “my sad sighs” is actually “at maths and science”.  Stupid Scottish accent.  So that is not relevant at all.

ANYWAY.

I’m just here to report on a small Sad Sigh.  I’ve had a nosering for, like, 5 years now.  See:

Me

So I’m used to it, right?  Except that apparently the other night I rolled over violently on that side of my face OR SOMETHING because now I have a cut inside my nostril and a bruise surrounding the cut from the nose ring.

Yes, that’s right, I injured myself in my sleep with my own nose ring.  My friends know that I’m very prone to falling down randomly, dropping glasses, and generally being awkward, but apparently I’m also capable of hurting myself when I’m dead asleep.

Let this be a lesson, Sad Sighers

This afternoon, I come to share the news that honorary Sad Sigh writer Morrissey collapsed and was taken to the hospital, causes unknown.

Speculation abounds! What could have toppled the former Smith’s lead singer, responsible for lyrics such as “I’ve a shyness that is criminally vulgar” and “life is a pigsty” and “life has killed me”?

Grace: Do you think sorrow brought him down?

Kristin: I think he collapsed under the weight of his own tears.

That’s right!  We know what made Morrissey collapse!  And let this be a lesson to you all as well.  Sadness has its price!  IT HAS ITS PRICE.

Sassed by a slowpoke

I’ve only recently begun listening to music on my iPhone, once on the train, and twice yesterday while walking around on my usual quest for food. I’ve also just discovered the Genius option and yesterday I picked an Alicia Keys song as the catalyst for my Apple-induced playlist as I walked towards Whole Foods. Having already walked around extensively while sweating profusely in my poorly ventilated jacket earlier in the day, I was hesitant to walk at any sort of pace that would make me sweat. Plus, I was listening to Alicia Keys, and she does not make one want to pick up the pace.

As I walked, tuning out the world, I noticed this guy walking slowly somewhat ahead of me. He was older, walking with a limp, and wore a fanny pack. I decided it would be rude for me to brush past him, so I just minded my business and we basically started walking side by side. At that point, I decided enough time had passed to make it impossible for me to go faster without it being obvious that I was trying to get away. No need to make a decision though, as the guy, despite my headphones, remarked loudly and proudly, “I’m keeping up with you!” I gave a polite chuckle. “We’re walking at the same speed. But I can’t go faster because of my heart.” I didn’t know what to say, so I kept walking next to him. We reached a corner and I made like I really wanted to stand at a Don’t Cross light even though I wanted to continue around it like him. When I looked and didn’t see him walking, I realized he had sat down at the bus stop. The light was nowhere near changing, so when I determined he wasn’t going to turn around to see me, I hoofed it past the bus stop for half a block to the next light. And broke into a slight sweat.

A sad reminder

You know you’re really not wowing anyone with your body when your doctor yawns and doesn’t bother to hide it while giving a breast exam. Not that excitement would have been an appropriate reaction.

Conversation with an Ex with Whom It Ended Badly – Part the 2nd

So, this has really got to stop happening….

I ran into that guy AGAIN today. Actually, more precisely, I ran into his daughter in the ladies room at the local bookstore. She looked me up and down and said “Oh. You. Hi!”

“Hello…” I responded. “Nice to see you.” I then quickly exited hoping her dad wouldn’t be waiting for her. He was. No escape.

We were actually pretty civil and, fortunately, I’m wearing an extremely work inappropriate outfit today, with a super tight top and skirt, so you know. I got that going for me. Looking hot is the best revenge…or something?

Anyway, I’ve happily settled into a seemingly stable relationship with a new guy (although, I thought that 3 months ago and that guy turned out to be a lying, cheating jerkola, but that’s another sad sigh for another time; remember that I am the Cathy of Sad Sigh) so seeing the ex didn’t have as jarring an effect on me this time as it did last time. Not that I regret getting rid of him, it’s just, you know, being dumped for being too smart has a rather, um, terrible effect on the self-esteem of even the brashest of young ladies, ya dig?

But, universe, just because I’m used to seeing him now doesn’t mean you have to throw him in my face, OK? I get it. He still exists. He didn’t die of heart failure while having sex with someone else. Now let’s all pick up and move on. Because he neither lives nor works in my city, so he has NO REASON for being here so goddamned often. Got it, universe?