Shannon > Recent Status Updates

I don't understand, I don't understand. Surely this has happened before. Surely other brothers and sisters have fallen in love. Surely they have been allowed to express their love, physically as well as emotionally, without being vilified, ostracized, thrown into prison, even. But incest is illegal. By loving each other physically as well as emotionally, we are committing a crime. And I'm terrified.

"We can love each other." I swallow hard to ease the constriction in my throat. "There are no laws, no boundaries, on feelings. We can love each other as much and as deeply as we want. No one, Maya, no one can ever take that away from us."

I'm desperate to escape myself because the truth of the matter is that the feeling is still there—perhaps it always has been—and now that I've acknowledged it, I am terrified that however much I may want to, I will never be able to turn things back.

Ooh, Moss or Ariana, you guys need to try this.

The realization that he is ashamed of me takes hold: a horrible, clutching, sinking feeling. I know all about being ashamed of a family member—the number of times I've wished my mother would act her age in public, if not in private. It's horrible, being ashamed of someone you care about; it eats away at you. And if you let it get to you, if you give up the fight and surrender, eventually that shame turns to hate.

Never before have I imagined my life without him—like this house, he is my only point of reference in this difficult existence, this unstable and frightening world. The thought of his leaving home fills me with a terror so strong, it takes my breath away. I feel like one of those seagulls covered in oil from a spill, drowning in a black tar of fear.

"Telling the world about this lowbrow party?" I teased.
"Of course," said Hugh, not looking up. "I'm updating Facebook. Do you know why Roman won't answer my friend request?"

Heh.

And the end begins ...

This is starting to feel like a chore to get through.

Boo, had to take this back to the library yesterday, and I just put it back on hold and I'm number 6 on the list -_-

To hell with everybody! Maybe I'll just wait until I'm fifty and give birth to a ball of fingers! "Merry Christmas from Tina, Jeff, Alice, and Ball of Fingers," the card will say.

There is no one of-woman-born who does not like Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. Anyone you claims otherwise is a liar and a Socialist.

When you see your Big City through a non-admirer's eyes you notice things you normally would not.
Hmm. I guess there are a lot of dog turds on Eighty-third Street."
"No, it's great. We just put our garbage out the back door and when it starts to overflow the super picks it up."
"Who, that guy? Yeah...he's playing with himself. Okay, let's go in the playground the other way."

My three sisters-in-law have always been welcoming and affectionate, and boy, can they clean a kitchen. After a big family meal they rinse and scrape and dry and Saran-wrap like nobody's business. I pitch in half-assedly like the spoiled suburban younger child that I am. "Where... should I put...this...chicken bone? Throw it out, or...?"

Lol, that's totally me.

Read! When your baby is finally down for the night, pick up a juicy book like Eat, Pray, Love or Pride and Prejudice or my personal favorite, Understanding Sleep Disorders: Narcolepsy and Apnea; A Clinical Study. Taking some time to read each night really taught me how to feign narcolepsy when my husband asked me what my "plan" was for taking down the Christmas tree.

Stand over the sink and eat the rest of your child's dinner while he or she pulls at your pant leg asking for it back.
Try to establish that you're the only one in your family allowed to go to the post office.
"Sleep when your baby sleeps." I say why stop there? Scream when your baby screams. Take Benadryl when your baby takes Benadryl. And walk around pantless when your baby walks around pantless.

The best thing a mom can do to be a better mom is to carve out a little time for herself. Here are some great "me time" activities you can do.

Go to the bathroom a lot.
Offer to empty the dishwasher.
Take ninety-minute showers.
Say you're going to look for the diaper crème, then go into your child's room and just stand there until your spouse comes in and curtly says, "What are you doing?"

I watched her husband produce a bottle of pumped breast milk that was the size of a Big Gulp. As my friend's husband fed the baby, he said offhandedly, "This stuff is liquid gold. You know it actually makes them smarter?" "Let's set a date!" I screamed. "IQ test. Five years from today. My formula baby will crush your baby!" Thankfully, my mouth was so full of cake they could not understand me.

A pedophile walks through the woods with a child. The child says, "These woods are scary." The pedophile says, "Tell me about it. I have to walk back through here alone."

Why do we need to enjoy chicken wings and boobies at the same time? Yes, they are a natural and beautiful part of the human experience. And so are boobies. But why at the same time? Going to the bathroom is part of life, but we wouldn't go to a restaurant that had toilets for seats ... or would we? Excuse me while I call my business manager.
He said it's a "nonstarter." They already have that in Japan.

Filial honour. Forty years ago I killed and ate Grainer's father. Grainer was ten at the time. There's always someone's father, someone's mother, someone's wife, someone's son. This is the problem with killing and eating people. One of the problems.

I made my husband fly once before we were married because he was offered a free trip to Vienna, Austria, to direct a sketch comedy show for an English-language theater. If you know anything about Vienna, you know that they love Chicago-style sketch comedy!*

*The Viennese do not enjoy American sketch comedy.

On career advice to young women:
People are going to try to trick you. "You're up for a promotion. If they go with a woman, it'll be between you and Barbara." Don't be fooled. You're not in competition with other women. You're in competition with everyone.
Also, I encourage them to always wear a bra. Even if you don't think you need it, just ... you know what? You're never going to regret it.

This worked out perfectly for me in college, because what nineteen-year-old Virginia boy doesn't want a wide-hipped, sarcastic Greek girl with short hair that's permed on top? What's that you say? None of them want that? You are correct. So I spent four years attempting to charm the uninterested. (It was probably good practice for my future career on a low-rated TV show.)

For many people, college is a time of sexual experimentation and discovery, and I am no exception. After a series of failed experiments with Caucasian men, I discovered that what I am really into is Caucasian men.

Don Fey is from the Silent Generation. They are different from their children. They cannot be "marketed to." They don't feel "loyalty" to Barnes and Noble over Borders. If you told Don Fey that you never go to Burger King, only McDonald's, because you "grew up with the Hamburglar," he would look at you like you were a moron.

"One of the sharpest-tongued of the young ladies expressed grief over the fact that a doctor must have forced you to spend time in the sun, because you used to have the most beautiful skin."
"She was distracting you, in the hope that you wouldn't notice her cloven hoof."
"Could be," the prince said, grinning madly.

Anyone here on PaperBackSwap? I know this isn't a new thing, but since Borders is gone, I don't really have anywhere else to get cheap used books from. Here's my profile if you want to add me as a friend. : )