Falling Down is Overrated

I have fallen down 4 times within the last week. All in painfully public places.

It's as if the cacophony of my emotional life is affecting the timbre of my gait. (I know that doesn't make any sense as cacophony and timbre are aural words and falling down is an often painful tactile experience but what's a little sensory obfuscation once in a while?) Or I'm just a klutz. Or maybe I'm a mess. It's like that Lady Gaga song 'She looks good but her boyfriend says: She's a mess.' Except that I have no boyfriend, which is probably a good thing for me right now.

This weekend was very interesting and probably one of the better ones I've had in a while; I think I got to see everyone that I currently love. Including sexpot neighbor. (Not that I love him or anything but it's always nice to see him, because he's pretty. It's kind of like my watch, I love looking at my watch because it's shiny and awesome.) I also saw 'He Who Must Not Be Named' and no it wasn't Voldemort, but Dipshit, which is why I'm grateful I don't have a boyfriend because I remember what it was like having a boyfriend like Dipshit who sucks at life even worse than I do which is pathetic. (God, it's amazing how unattractive someone becomes because their personality sucks.) Yes, we don't refer to Dipshit by name as I'm still currently angry that we're sharing the same atmosphere but that would require one of us to shuffle off this mortal coil and I'm not sure that I hate him That much. Close, but still...I'm trying to be an adult about all of this. Anyways, off to my bar I go and guess who's there?

Personally I'm somewhat proud of myself. The last time I saw him I was completely unprepared as I had just left the gym and Spruce Street was the last place I ever imagined seeing him, and do you know that this Asshat had the gall to try and speak to me? Who is he kidding? But this time I didn't make eye contact nor did I stress and hyperventilate. Okay maybe a little and I did try to sneak out the back door of the bar. I was prevented in this by my bff who informed the watching parties that we/I are/am 'VIP Motha Fucka' as we walked past him and his posse. She then chided me that I shouldn't be the one slinking around avoiding eye contact. As always, She's right about this too.

So oddly enough I'm strangely confident and have a renewed sense of awesomeness which I like to imagine never quite left but was there all along.


I haven't fallen down lately either.

But that may be because my unknown degenerative neuromuscular disease went away?