I don't know why you all thought my Ann Landers quote was directed at you. I was really saying I was dumb, seeing as I have never once talked about ideas or things on this blog. Well, there was the Lean Cuisine Vending Machine idea, and of course the runaway dog magnet. Two fine ideas. But other than that.
Well, and I guess the men-can-stay-home-from-couples-dinners was an idea. Okay, so this blog is full of ideas. It's brilliant.
I used to always go around quoting Ann Landers like I knew her personally. Now I do that with dcrmom. You know how you guys write in and say your husbands are annoyed because you know stuff about me but you don't actually know me? That is how Marvin feels about dcrmom and me. One time I made him get English muffins at the store because they were dcrmom's brand. Who is over me? Who is over dcrmom and me as a duo?
Speaking of Marvin, here at last is my third and final diary installment.
April 18, 1986: Went to a party with D., D, and B. After, I made them all walk with me past Marvin Gardensalad's house. They all acted like they KNOW something. Like maybe Marvin doesn't like me.
I do not know why my college friends have to have the most distinctive names ever in the history of time. There is no way I could have put their real names in here and had it look vaguely anonymous. And I am too lazy to ask them if I can put their names in my blog.
Plus, I like how I assume my friends had some sinister secret about Marvin on their minds and not "Geez, I really don't want to stalk this guy. Can't we just get some chili cheese fries now and go home?"
I had met Marvin the previous fall, and had spent the entire year basically trying every trick in the book attempting to get him to like me, short of dancing in front of his window in nothing but pasties and go-go boots. And had I known where to get pasties, that would've been next.
May 16, 1986: Tonight I went to Ron & Brian's party and Marvin Gardensalad was there. I acted like an idiot. I got so flustered and embarrassed. Pretty in pink! Rich thinks he likes me, tho! Afterward, we were all outside talking and Marvin came out to the car and I was an idiot again. Pretty in pink again! Anyway, things still went well!
Remember when there were parties every weekend? Why can't life be like that now? And I think "pretty in pink" was my NOT AT ALL ANNOYING phrase for "gee, that was an uncomfortable situation." I can't imagine why Marvin didn't want to give me the time of day. Also, I apparently acted like an idiot both indoors and out, (I was kind of a versatile idiot) yet my assessment was that it went well. I guess that self-esteem was still in high gear. Wonder if he'd noted my pretty class ring yet.
May 21, 1986: When I got home tonight, there was a message on my machine and it was Marvin Gardensalad! I called him, and we talked all night! It's 2:30 now. I think he likes me! I HOPE so! He's so cute & kind & his love for music is a good sign, I think.
Oh, honey. Do you have any IDEA how many Who documentaries there are out there? Do you KNOW how bad it hurts to drop a microphone stand on your foot? Try dusting under the bed when there are seven guitar cases under it. Go ahead. Try it. Yes, it's sexy now, 20-year-old self. I know. It's sexy now.
May 27, 1986:Went to Marvin Gardensalad's tonight. We chatted all night and at 12:00 he walked me to my car. We sat in there till 2:25 and he KISSED ME! I could think about it FOREVER!
What was this, a police report? Was it necessary to report the time every second? Was I Captain Kirk? Star Date, 2:25. And when was the last time you were up at 2:25 that you or a loved one didn't have diarrhea? When was the last time MARVIN was up at 2:25? I'll tell you when. May 27, 1986, that's when.
Do you think he was practically in REM, and that's why he finally worked up the nerve to kiss me after the two-hour-and-twenty-five-minute "let me walk you to your car" scam?
Anyway, this diary ends with our painful and dreadful breakup, which I am NOT writing down here, but I want you all to know I read this diary this morning, and then all afternoon Marvin and I were downtown at antique stores, where we bought nothing because we actually had money to spend and if we had been flat broke we would have seen eleven billion things to buy. After, we went to lunch, and during a lull between chips he caught me glaring at him.
"Did you just decide to get mad at me again about our breakup?"
"YES! Why did you have to DO that?"
So you see? Really. Diaries are a bad thing. They dredge up all sorts of hideousness, things that are better off forgotten. Who needs to be reminded that they were evil in fifth grade? Who needs convincing that they were the world's largest twit in high school, or that their husband-to-be should never have gone to see Howard the Duck with THAT OTHER GIRL in the summer of '86, a painful, itching deceit that may still fester to this day if one thinks about it?
Pretty in pink.
