phone

I’m half of a hundred, I’m free. I just told a guy that I had a Facebook crush on him. Would I have been too cautious to say this at twenty-five? I don’t know because that was the last century. Facebook hadn’t been invented yet.

So would I have been able to tell this same guy face-to-face that I had a crush on him? Would I have been able to tell him during a rotary phone conversation — by Pony Express? I’m such a silly dewy – Pony Express! Ahaha!

But I don’t even know if I would have used any of these modes of communication for conveying a crush, because like I said, it was a Facebook crush, a different animal. I haven’t seen this guy since he was a kid either.

But generally I think I’d tell a guy I had a crush on him. I’m bold if I have a hankering for you. I’m possessed by my hormones then and you should hear some of the stuff coming out of my mouth. I should have been a dude, I’ve got so much swerve.

There are many things I feel more confident saying nowadays, and not just because of premenopause hormones – speaking of hormones. I’m on the planet half a century and have been through more. My theories have been tested and proven to work.

It gets better. I hear we can turn off that filter completely and, you know, let it fly. Like grandma. She says what she wants. You should’ve heard what she said when I told her I kissed a boy dressed like a girl. It was absolutely vile what she said. I laughed two days.

That’s why I don’t want to visit her now because I’ve nearly shaved my head. She WILL say something about it and I WILL say something back. That’s how we roll. But she know I luv huh.

At the half century mark I’m just warming up. Protect your heads. No more hemming and hawing, beating around the bush, no sugar-coating or pretty euphemisms. With time running out, my language will be condensed. There will be nuggets of truth flying in the air hitting people in the head. Who said getting old wasn’t any fun?

I’m one of these. If not for my father telling me to “get with the program” in 1987, I never would have gotten an answering machine. My dear totally-my-hero-Dad from beyond the grave even had power to force me to get with the program. After his death in 2003, I was forced to get call waiting, years after it had been introduced to the public. After his death so many people called, and at that same time I was looking for a job, so I couldn’t have my lines tied up. So, from beyond the grave, my Daddy forced me to “get with the program,” and get call waiting. Think I’m bad? Yesterday, I swear, I talked to a lady who still has a rotary phone.

So here we are in 2012, and I’m finally blogging, way after the idea of blogging began. But fuck that twattering, what is it — that twittering bullshit. I find this blogging medium serves just as well for twittering: that time of month. so hungry, want sugar, fuck food!

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