Can I Just Tell You?

Welcome to Can I Just Tell You?
Thanks for visiting!

Can I just tell you? This whole site needs an overhaul. My goodness! Thank you for visiting, come back again in a few weeks. I still appreciate your support. :)
 
I love your support. So many of you have encouraged me to keep writing all these years. I took a few years off because I wasn't feeling very confident about my skill and self-conscience about my subject matter. I really appreciate your gentle (sometimes haunting) push to get back on the proverbial horse. My favorite thing in the world is making someone laugh, typically at my own expense. It warms my heart to hear that my silly stories have helped you smile or laugh out loud when you felt like that's the last thing you could do.

 

I also really appreciate the support of many boyfriends who read through my entire collection of crazy and still chose to continue dating. I'm not sure if you felt bad for me or found me charming. Regardless, thanks for the encouragement.

 

I'm going to change things up a little bit. As you may have guessed, from some of my posts, I have aspirations of writing a book. (Or two, three, or four… We'll see.) Anyway, all of my stories, up to this point 8/3/15, are true and happened to me. I'm thinking about adding some characters to my stories and playing around with fiction writing. You'll be able to tell the real stories from fiction. I think. ;-)

 

I'm not sure what my books are going to be like, yet. I've always enjoyed reading fiction but, maybe non-fiction is the right path for me. I'm pretty confident with the voice I've developed in telling my silly stories and would like to continue to write in that tone. I know I'm going to start off slow because, as you know, self-discipline has never been one of my stronger qualities. I may try to play around with other subjects, too. Stay tuned.

 

This site is meant to make you laugh through stories that you may be able to relate to whether it's sour love, a cooking disaster, a social faux-pas, etc. So, bear with me as I stumble through my experiences, hopefully, more gracefully than the actual event, but just as funny, and either share the lesson or just make you laugh out loud.

If there's ever a story that really hits your funny bone or makes your day, let me know. I'd love to hear from you.

So, sit back, put on your reading glasses and enjoy.

Please, take a minute to sign my guest book. It seems I have readers from around the world. I'd be more than happy to put you on an update list so you'll know when I have a new post. Cheers!

  

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Friday, July 11, 2008

Pearl Jam

I can’t even imagine being pregnant.


I went to my first Pearl Jam concert on Monday and throughout the night, I was thinking about the story I would write…


Would it be about my lack of preparation this time? I didn’t study any of the PJ discologies so the only song I could remember the lyrics to was “Can’t Find a Better Man.” How apropos? Or, would it be Kevin singing “Jeremy” to me? He won second place in a karaoke contest singing it. He sounded pretty good... Might it be the energy and pot smoke in the crowd? Or could it be about the full beer that was spilled on my flip flops that I had to rinse off with a full bottle of water? No. No. No. And, no.


Don’t get me wrong, it was a great show and the friends I went with were tons of fun.


I was the designated driver. My plan was to drink early; we tailgated before the show so I went in with an appropriate buzz. I had a beer or two more, enjoyed the show a bit then switched to water. I went through two big bottles…


We knew they would be ending around 11pm. The man who gave us the tickets had gone two nights earlier and told us how the encore would go; the band would leave the stage, rest for five minutes, come out and sing 5, leave for a few minutes more then come back and finish with the last two. I knew when they were playing their final song, as did 85% of the audience. My better judgment urged me to start heading for the exit. (I had to use the restroom but I didn’t want to miss any of the encores so, I chose to hold it.)


To make a long story short and cut to the chase, it took us about 20 minutes to get to my car and another 20 minutes to get to the highway. At that point, I knew I should have considered the porta-potty.


Now, I’ve been described as germ-conscience and fastidious. The porta-john just isn’t my thing. As we drove home, it became alarmingly evident that I should have used a bathroom, any bathroom. It began with the unbuckling of the seatbelt then, the unzipping of the pants until it finally came to the doubling over with terrible discomfort. My friend in the passenger seat asked, “dude, are you okay?” (She’s female and calls everyone “dude.”) I replied, “No.”


I was desperately searching for a place to pull over. I have never peed on the side of the road in my life nor considered it until this night. I couldn’t find a safe place to stop so I continued at 90mph to Boston.

As we approached Southie, where I was dropping the girls off, they began to argue over who’s apartment was closer for me to use the facilities. I couldn’t take it anymore; I pulled over as soon as we got off the exit. Both girls were yelling, “No, not here! It’s the state trooper parking lot!” I pulled a quick u-turn and one of the girls yelled, “The beach is right around the corner! Go there!” I took the next right. She was wrong. It was a continuation of the police grounds. I didn’t care.


I pulled over and assessed the situation. I saw the pedestrians walking by, the car pulling in at the gate, the cruiser parked by the fence, the two women in my car with the horrified looks on their faces and the lonely tree with the spotlight on it. I took it all in, ran over to the lonely tree and dropped trou right there. My white fanny peered out at the passerbys from behind the tree and I finally felt relief.


All this from a woman who, when last faced with the need to use Mother Nature as a personal wash room, had to hike a mile away from the camper’s outdoor facilities because there were spiders in the outhouse. (I wanted no part in that. Could you imagine if I was bitten on the backside and they left eggs under my skin? I’ve heard of that happening before. We all have.) Not only did I hike a mile, but I also had to strip down to nothing, fold my clothes 10 feet from the tree/potty, so as not to get a drop of pee on anything I was wearing, and then go. Seriously. I know… I have issues.


So, can I just tell you? As I walked back to my car in relief, the only thing I could think to myself was, “Please, God, let that still be water in my flip-flops from the beer accident.”

Fri, July 11, 2008 | link          Comments


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