The Over-Educated Nympho

It’s been raining all day. All today, all yesterday, including on the drive back from visiting the folks. I enjoy driving for hours at a time, even when raining. Especially when raining.

Everything is made ugly. All colors are muted. Everything has been equalized to the same state of grey. Different shades of grey, but boring grey all the same.

Many people think the rain is depressing. Not me. But maybe that’s because I start at the depressed state and there’s only so far to go from there, so the grey rain doesn’t seem so bad to me.

I find it soothing. There’s no pressure to be happy and excited to be alive like when it’s sunny and beautiful outside. You can just be in all your simple ugliness.

Something about the rain… it doesn’t try to hide anything it just dumps because it fucking feels like it. It’s just dreary and sucky and I have always loved the grey feeling it casts upon the world.

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It rained all day today. It was nice. I was in a rainy sort of mood.

Here’s what I listened to today at work:

Ani DiFranco: Grey* and Your Next Bold Move
Smashing Pumpkins: To Sheila and Crestfallen
Sarah McLachlan: Elsewhere and Fumbling Toward Ecstasy
Snow Patrol: Chasing Cars

*one of my all-time favorite songs. more explanation in next post.

My dear friend Dr. Barbie invited me to a party this Friday. She emailed me today to inform me there would be a “tall, SINGLE, cute guy” there that she was going to push in my general direction.

I asked if she thought he was someone I would want to date or want to fuck. She answered that he’s from out of state.

Bingo.

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Go here to read about what happened next.

I left yesterday afternoon to go out of town to visit my parents.

I always have mixed feelings about seeing my parents. Dad is great. Cool, fun, easy-going, smiley. Mom is… The MOM. A force not to be reckoned with because she ALWAYS WINS.

My stomach was in knots the whole drive. Over the years I have called The MOM less, returned less of her calls, made the journey to visit them less, because what’s the point of spending an afternoon driving across the state to get yelled at?

Especially when it’s so much easier to get yelled at over the phone… preferably over voicemail. Because I set my cell phone to have a special ring when The Mom calls so I know not to answer because… drumroll.. I will get yelled at. Or worse, sighed at.

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