The Heather Chronicles

I just returned to the office after my workout at the nearby gym. I should really go home, but I can't leave until I purge this latest question...am I on TV?

When the movie "The Truman Show" came out I thought the whole concept of one living their life on a TV show unknowingly was so far fetched and creepy, that it could never happen, yet now we see there is a reality show for everything and everyone. The Truman concept no longer seems so off anymore, now does it?

Sometimes my life and the things that happen in it are just too stupid to be real. Who REALLY gets velcro stuck on a taste bud and has to have it cut to disconnect (the velcro not the taste bud). Who REALLY sets their toaster on fire with a Pop Tart? Who REALLY accidentally hits a kid on a bike that comes out of thin air? Who has enough urine to piss themselves as many times as I have from laughing? Who can lock themselves in a bathroom not once, not twice, but three times...or am I up to four now? I mean seriously people, have any of YOU been raped by a German Shepherd in a swimming pool? It just seems too far-fetched, but I've done it, lived it, have the scars to prove it.

I think of the the timing of only love songs on the radio moments after a breakup, or that breeze that sexifies your hair as you walk by that hot guy. It's just too perfect. Okay, hold up. For the record, I have never encountered a sexified hair moment, but it sounded good.

I mean life just seems a bit too strangely timed. Too coincidental. Too odd. And then yesterday, I found the proof.

It started on Monday night when while drinking coffee and about to leave for a walk with some friends, we witnessed a man run over a sidewalk while trying to park and hit a decorative light post outside some new condos. Ripped the puppy right out of the sidewalk, it hit the window of a space for lease, didn't break the window, and busted on the sidewalk. The paramedics and police came and it all just seemed too odd.

The next day my friend/coworker Sara and I went walking after work and were walking through the neighborhoods near our office. We're walking up the hill and as we trudge alongside a particular lawn, Sara stops.

"Oh my God they're plastic," she says.

I look around and am confused. "What's plastic?"

She points to the flowers that are erupting from the bushes that landscape the yard we are standing next to. I lean in and look. Indeed they are plastic. I look at the others. ALL the flowers are plastic.

"What the fuck is wrong with these people?"

She shakes her head at my question, and we both continue on with our walk, but I can't stop thinking about this. Who would do that? I then start thinking of the Truman show. Hmmmm. This would explain much in my life. By the time I reach my house, I have forgotten this.

So tonight I go to the gym and I'm on the elliptical reading a magazine and I hear it.

"Ahhh-dahhh-you knowwwwww it's ahhhhhhhh...." being sung almost accidentally.

I look around trying to figure out where this is coming from, but it stops. I continue to read about the obnoxious girl from Laguna Beach trying to be like Jessica Simpson (and why?) and then I hear it again.

"Because of you......ahhhhs eva dahhhhh sidewalkkkkkkkk...."

I look around and see where it's coming from. It's some girl I've never seen before on the rowing machine. She's sing quietly for a moment as she rowed, would stop, look up and around as if someone was talking to her, get it together, then repeat herself five minutes later. It was as if she was listening to instructions in her headphones. I can just see it.

"Okay, rowing girl. You're just supposed to row. Do not sing." announces the producer of my show through her headphones.

"....don't get hurrrrrtt," mutters rowing girl.

"Stop it rowing girl! You're singing again! Damn you! Shut it! Who the fuck got this extra?" the producer of my show would yell as she looked around wondering what the fuss was about.

I stare at her as I trot along on the elliptical. Maybe I'm supposed to throw my magazine at her. That would be great ratings! Maybe I'm supposed to tell her to shut up! I know they want drama, but I'm trying to avoid the drama. I tell myself that I won't let the producer of my show control me or my actions and I raise my hands like the dreaded Creed frontman and...

Wait.

I'm getting out of hand here. Why would MY life be a TV show? I'm obviously so fucking bored that I'm creating all this in my head. Okay, okay. So, I just have freakish things happen to me and around me. I guess I just have odd or bad luck. I guess I will just accept this. However, it would be so much easier to think that the props person was responsible for switching out the cucumber I bought last week and replacing it with the zucchini I cut up at lunch at the office and then asked people if my cucumber seemed ripe since it wasn't clearish with seeds. Yes, I will stick with the props person.