Okay, my only mandate on this blog is…
Write the truth. Don’t lie, and don’t exaggerate (or try really hard not to).
Why? Because it’s too easy to lie to make a point or a joke. I’ve found that in life the hardest thing to do for me is to expose my vulnerabilities to others. It’s scary, and my mind has many ways of coping. Mostly by denial and/or humor.
It’s been a while since I’ve introduced you to a new D.J. confession. In the past I talked about how I used to wear tight jeans, and how I pretended I was in bands when I wasn’t, and how I poop when I talk on the phone. But that’s nothing compared to this confession.
I need to tell on myself, to once again reveal an insecurity.
Last night a woman contacted me online, who happens to be the wife of a national television news anchor. (…and no, this isn’t Gertie Rather)
I just guessed that Dan Rather’s wife would be called Gertrude, even though a simple Google search revealed that she is actually named Jean.
Did you read every last word I wrote this past week?
What? You didn’t?
That’s hurtful, goddammit!
I bet you didn’t miss Top Chef! Seriously, is that good? What is it, a bunch of cooks hanging around with their Ginzus? No offense, but watching people cook doesn’t interest me when I’m IN a restaurant.
When I was a newborn, I developed a double hernia at ten weeks and underwent emergency surgery.
During the delivery my mother received a botched epidural, and the doctor accidentally struck her spine. She was in a coma for four weeks.
During that time I was sent home with my father and two grandmothers. Within a few weeks they had started me on human food (bananas and such), which turned out to not be a great move. Apparently, my nervous system was not fully developed and I cried like crazy. Food shut me up.
We all know at least one person that is a “people pleaser.” This is someone that puts all other people’s needs in front of their own, often sacrificing their happiness.
They have learned early on, “If everyone is happy, then I will be happy, too.”
I have something to share. Something vulnerable, embarrassing, and difficult.
An issue of mine.
Now, in a world of real problems like famine, AIDS, sex-trafficking, and Bieber-fever, this does not chart in the top, oh, I’m guessing 100,000 of actual situations that would qualify as an “issue.”
There has been an unfortunate trend over the past few years where men, usually in their late-teens to early twenties, have started to purchase and wear “skinny” jeans. I’m talking about the jeans that are not just tight in the seat or waist, but in the legs, too.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
