THE LEGEND OF 33

THE DEMISE INTO WRINKLE CREAMS
I have been noticing the signs of aging for quite some time...five years to be exact. I don't know if it was my divorce or that all my wrinkles really started peeking out on their own when I was 28. The combination of years of tanning and smoking are showing and it freaks me out. I still often hear that people think I'm around 26, but I think they're just too scared to be honest.

My first gray hair had already been found at 23, but now I find that my roots are pretty much silver (Vanessa can attest to this). This is something that wears on me every couple of weeks as soon as they start peeking out. I curse them, and until a recent conversation with my friend, had never thought of the possibility of gray pubes. I found myself checking the other day for fear that Father Time was spreading to my coo. I am proud to say he hasn't reached my privates yet. Whew!

I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I found a miniature spider vein about a year or two ago and completely wigged out and cried over it until a few friends my age told me about their spider veins. At least we are in the same club.

My personality...I think it's aged. I mean the core of who I am is the same, but I feel I've learned a lot through time and try to apply these lessons to life. I definitely feel wiser about things, and am great at being optimistic and dishing out advice about other people, but to be that way about myself? Still working on it. I recently took an online quiz called, "What's My Age Again?" It said I was 22. I was shocked and slightly insulted.

I have often told people I feel stuck at 23, but I think I hold onto that because my favorite time of my life was at that age. However, I was hoping for at least mid to late twenties. Even my brother and friends were all in their late twenties, and some who really were in their late twenties were said to be in their early thirties! Why am I trailing behind? Did that mean I just can still be childlike and fun, or does that mean I am totally immature? We all know certain tangible aspects of my life are way behind and need to be dealt with, but that will change soon. I'm just confused.

THE SECRET OF PINK
Last week I was shopping with Amy and we started talking about the color pink. I used to LOVE pink and wore it all the time until I got to high school. I detested it after that and was very verbal about my loathing for it. Then one day last spring or summer, I bought some panties and one pair was pink. I couldn't believe I was buying them, but thought that maybe it would help to be more girly though no one would know it. My pink panties are now my favorites and I love them!

The pink then spread to my sheets. I got a new-to-me bed and had to buy a comforter and duvet and sheets for it. I ended up with a pastel blue duvet and pastel pink sheets. I loved it, but was confused as to what had happened to me. So, Amy and I had the conversation and the next day I find myself at the cash register of Ross with a pink cardigan with flowers embroidered on it!!!! I wore it to work the following Monday and confused the hell out of everyone. "I don't know what to think," said one. "You look so girly," said another. Great! What do people typically see me as? I mean I admit I am not girly all the time, but I love dressing up on occasion. How do I present myself otherwise?

I don't know what's happening. Did the 3-week period cause temporary insanity? Okay, so yes, we can all agree with the fact I went totally wacko during that time. But come on! What's the deal with the pink cardigan?

It's in my closest. It dares me to wear it and I give it the evil eye. There will be a showdown eventually. It will most likely involve me and the cardigan in front of the bathroom mirror, with me putting it on and throwing it off, then putting it on, then throwing it off. Until that time, I will watch and wait for pink's next move.

UR-INE TROUBLE!
I remember the first time I lived in Phoenix, I came to work one day and told some of my coworkers how all in one week, someone was murdered in the grocery store parking lot across the street, where I had hit a kid on his bike with my car a few days ago, and then I walked to 7-11 during the police investigation, bought Pop-Tarts and while cooking them in the toaster, had foot-high flames shoot out from the flammable Pop-Tart ridden toaster. Cathy stared at me a moment, and said, "You know Heather, when you told us these kinds of stories, I used to think you were lying. Now, getting to know you, I see they're real."

There is some odd vortex of craziness and insanity that encompasses me. Does anyone remember the Flinstones, where they had the Adams Family-type neighbors move in next door, and there was always a black cloud that followed them, over their house, when they walked, when they drove? Well, I don't think it's a black cloud, but there's something like that looming near me that sucks in the wacko!

Just in the last week alone, I have some guy making eerie non-friend comments to me after knowing him for many years. I had a raccoon pawing at my door tonight while my cats tried to attack it by slamming themselves against the window. I am finally through with a three-week period. Now, minus the period, the other stuff is tame as most of you know. However something happened to me tonight that has scarred me. Something that has made me lost my faith in humanity and cursing the drunk asshole who caused all this.

Somebody peed on my car tonight.

I am not kidding. I went out for a nice dinner with a few friends tonight and had a great time and was in a good mood. I needed to return my movie, so after taking my exit in Redmond, I drive straight instead of turning towards downtown. I am approaching the railroad tracks bridge that I used to party on when I was a teenager. My car passes under it, and as I come out from underneath, a stream of liquid bursts down my windshield. It was loud, it was hard and it was pee.

Holy fucking shit! Someone peed on my car! It is dry tonight, there was no other explanation. It was not enough to be a drink poured out, and too little to be anything else. I had no idea what to do, so I turned on my windshield wipers and spread someone's piss all over my fucking windshield. I drop off my movie and take a look at some of the liquid still on the windshield. It's definitely got a hint of yellow in the clearish liquid. I am in shock and make a couple of phone calls exclaiming that I had just been pissed on, but I am also totally laughing.

I know those railroad tracks and I know that the boys used to like to pee off that bridge. I'm sure Mr. Shithead Motherfucker had a good laugh. I mean, I did too, but come on! Peeing on my car? I hope a fucking Karmic bird flew over him at that exact moment and blew a big ol' runny turd down his head.

And to reflect back on my earlier comment on optimism and not being able to implement it well into my life, I am hereby taking my first step.

At least it was not shit.