UGH.

mortify
v., -fied, -fy·ing, -fies.
v.tr.
To cause to experience shame, humiliation, or wounded pride; humiliate.
To discipline (one's body and physical appetites) by self-denial or self-inflicted privation.

Sooo.... I'm packing right now.

I am moving to Napa tomorrow. After unceremoniously being "kicked out" (although she did say she wasn't 'kicking me out'... she merely informed me she was no longer comfortable and felt the 'space was off' and that she 'shouldn't settle just because she needs money') and being accused of drinking her wine (No.) I am now upstairs, packing, just six weeks after my last move. I am upstairs packing while the lady is downstairs giving a dinner party where her daughter performs dances in a clear "Look at me, Mommy pay attention to me" fashion,while the lady shows off her boyfriend to her old flame in a "Look at me, old boyfriend, I'm just as happy as you are" fashion.

And I'm upstairs, packing.

Earlier in a feat of self-indulgence I ordered some green beans and fried rice from China Dragon. After I paid, I shoved my 3.95 change in my pocket and realized there was a tip jar filled with assorted bills saying "Hey Vanessa, you forgot to tip this nice man running a restaurant in a bad economy." So I pull out 2 bucks and all my change falls out of my pocket at the exact time a man approaches the register to pay. So I am squatting, bending over, what have you.. while I try to pick up quarters and dimes, and realize yes I am wearing the blue cords with the hole in the ass.. thinking God oh God.. of course.

I mean in the scheme of embarassing situations this falls pretty damn low, but all I had to do was laugh and think "Of course."

And what is the point of sharing one embarassing moment without sharing others?! I mean why leave your audience wanting more.

Just a few weeks ago I was closing up at work. The kids had left and I had some emails to respond to in my inbox. My door was open (crucial) and I had been harboring some bad gas for the last few hours. I let out a good, juicy fart or two, which I neeeeeeever do in public. Felt good. I stewed there in my gasses finishing up the emails for five more minutes.

As I left the room, a teen staff, Julian, jumped at me from the left side where he had been crouching behind the door. ZOMG was he there the whole time?! Did I smell?! He made no mention of it and promptly challenged me to fly a paper airplane with him. So either he didn't hear, or he found it strangely arousing.

back to packing...

v.