Tardy to the Party

Tardy to the Party and Things That Make Me Snigger

 Oh god. I am so late with this blentry. Please forgive my tardiness. It’s been my m.o. lately. And by lately, I mean the past year or so.  Maybe two.

I am late for everything now. It’s really pissing me off.  I was so good for so many years, after having been a “late” person for most of my young life and adulthood.  Grad school beat most of it out of me, as my instructors did not tolerate being late AT ALL.  So I learned to be good for a long run. I was early to the airport, to movies, to dates.  I had to train myself to not look too eager on dates by arriving too early --- so I’d arrive early and hide somewhere until the dude showed up and then I’d stroll in all nonchalant-like.

But something has snapped in me and I am trying to figure out what my deal is. Am I acting out some hostility? Am I mismanaging my time? Am I just so damn tired that I plain oversleep until there is no time left to be on time? Do I just not care?

I do know that I am overwhelmed by the amount of work I feel needs to be done, almost constantly. A constant sense of impending doom tends to make one worn down and give up, after trying for a long while to catch up.  It’s like “what the hell difference does it make anyway??” and then I am 15, 20, 25 minutes late again.

It makes a difference to my increasingly frustrated and pissed-off friends. They are certainly sick of my excuses and hurried apologies and are starting to call me out on my shit. I’ll tell you, THAT sucks.  I feel terrible when I let people down. I am in utter awe of people who truly don’t give a damn about what people think. I care about what EVERYONE thinks.  (or is it everybody?  I don’t know.)

So again, I apologize, and am going to try, try again to be a good little soldier. So far, my self-chastisement has not worked (obviously), but it certainly makes me look as if I feel bad about being such a late dick.

Okay, change of subject. In lieu of further late-flagellation, I thought I’d give y’all a wee list of:

Things that make me snigger.  I said SNIGGER.

1. the word “shaft.”

2. my dad’s unexpected fart  and his “oh!” afterwards.

3. seeing a guy in a suit trip on the sidewalk and act like “it’s cool.”

4. guys who wear sunglasses indoors, at night, to a club.

5. women who wear stretchy minidresses and are trying to secretly tug them down every five seconds.

6. people who secretly admire themselves in subway window reflections.

7. men who wear their pants sagging below their underwear and are secretly trying to keep them from falling down to their ankles every five seconds.

8. fancy folk who mispronounce “Hermes,” “paradigm,” “supposedly,” and “drawer.”

9. my mom trying to pronounce “croissant.”

10. me trying to pronounce “Phuket.”

11. me trying to pronounce “pho.”   (the Vietnamese soup)

12. any foreign person trying to pronounce my name. It’s nearly impossible for them.

13. men adjusting their sticky manparts.

14. 26 year old men who ask “are you going to take me home tonight?” five minutes after they introduce themselves because they figure I’ll be such a grateful cougar-lady.

15. toupees

16. men who stare at breasts unabashedly as they talk to women.

17. the Chinese lady who farted loudly while sitting as I looked at purses in her store on Canal Street. She was completely unfazed.

18. Lower East Side folks who refuse to believe that their dress code of Bettie Page/Goth/punk is as ubiquitous as the Banana Republic-wearers.

19. mean girls pretending to be “nice.”

20. Upper East Side hair helmets

21. any song by the band Bread.