So..

I just finished reading “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” by Jenny Lawson. Which is a good thing as I recommended it to my girlfriend for her book club before I even read it. Comedy/Humor is very hard to write..I went with my gut just by the reviews on Amazon, and I did find myself at once laughing out loud and questioning my sanity. Why, you may ask? It seems I found my writing doppelganger.

Now mind you my past isn’t filled with mostly dead animals and memories of my arm stuck in a cow vagina, for which I’m thankful for, however..I used to think I was normal. But as I read each page and went on her wild ride I started taking self test here http://www.psychologytoday.com/tests.

Mind you I’ve put myself through therapy before, twice as a matter of fact and I do highly recommend it. I don’t recommend taking online quizzes that just irritate the crap out of you, because you already know the answers. *sigh*

But back to my doppelganger. Now I’ve only read one of her books, and glanced at her website, but the one thing I know that has to be in the back of her head if she ever confronts it, is like me she just “knows” she will die of something embarrassing.

Case in point, I happen to be accident prone, either by going to fast, trying to do too many things and just plain bad luck. Did I ever mention that I’ve been damn near electrocuted three times in my life? First time I was young, curious and wanted to know how the sewing machine worked. So after dismantling it while it was still plugged in mind you, I stuck my curious 7 year old finger in the light bulb socket. ZZZZOTTT. Lesson learned.

Which somehow didn’t stick in my melon head when we fast forward 13 years or so later when I was dating my ex Brian. For his senior project at Temple he was filming a movie at his house. Being the good girlfriend, I was helping with everything from scripts, makeup, reading lines and…holding the lights. So there we were on a rainy Friday night..I remember being on the back porch..wet stones..lots of electrical cords and I was holding a backlight (metal pole with those huge lights balanced on top) and I reached for the metal screen door. ZZZZZZZZZZZOTTT! I shook for a good ten minutes after that jolt went through my body.

My last close call, as I now respect electric more than anyone should and I even stopped using electrical toys, batteries only folks, its just safer *wink* because to be honest I think that would not be the legacy or information I would want on my tombstone, Buzzed to Death..but my last foray into almost electrocution was simply housecleaning and definitely why I can justify a maid. There I was innocently vacuuming at my old town home, and I had Simon’s litterbox in the downstairs powder room. I had removed the head off the pole to suck up the litter when the vacuum turned over on its side while running. Still holding the vacuum, I spun around to pick it up and the hose/pole landed in the toilet inches from sucking water into the vacuum. Near death I tell you.

While Ms. Lawson is afraid of a Zombie Apocalypse and spends  a lot of her time figuring out how to address it when it happens, I have to deal with my husband and his “doomsday” preparedness. So far he’s bought a survival knife and a wind up /lightradio. He wound it up this weekend to show my girlfriend who was over, and was quite non plussed to find out he picked up some station where they were speaking Arabic or something. Personally I think he should have called the FBI as there must be a terrorist cell nearby that we picked up on our airwaves. However I did put my foot down when he decided that he was going to start buying MRE rations and fill the house with it. I did the only logical thing and blocked National Geographic channel on the TV and told him that I would not live in an underground house to avoid the Apocalypse. I’m too old to reproduce, everyone I know and love would be gone, so what’s the point? I’m too old to lead the Resistance and my guess we’d be outgunned by the aliens/enemies or whomever is going to do us in.

But I will recommend her book because at the end of the day, no matter how effed up you think your life is, someone will always have it harder/stranger/tougher than you ever think you will. For years I’ve put off ever writing my memoir because in my head..who would ever read it? After reading Ms Lawson’s “mostly true memoir” I’m second guessing myself. If it puts a smile on your face, and you feel better about yourself, then I think its my duty to put it on paper and make some sense out of it all. Though to be fair I will change the names to protect the guilty. I’m just that nice.