Red, Chewed Bubblegum
I am doomed to have a really shitty experience every time I try to do something. Did you know this? Because it’s enveloping me with such a disturbing amount of startling reality that I cannot stand it.
So okay, we figured it out. The family friend we stayed with on vacation ended up giving Mona and Steve scabies, which is so beyond disgusting. The day we got back I noticed that it started growing on my right elbow, so the three of us got treated for it. Last night I got suddenly and severely itchy. This morning, between getting up and lunch time, I got covered head to toe in this red, puffy, rash. It turns out I had a severe allergic reaction to the treatment and now I’m on pills, antihystamines and cortisone cream. So needless to say I’m not a happy camper.
I closely resemble what I imagine a lobster wearing bubblewrap would look like. Or a human sized raspberry covered in pasta sauce.
I did, however, receive an incredible compliment this morning when my Dad took me for breakfast. He was going up to pay and I said “Thank you, Dad.” And the waitress gave me a funny look. I thought it was strange and then she says to me (her voice low) “There was a gentleman in here a little while ago who saw you, and had asked me if I knew who you were.” I thought it was strange and asked her why. “He said to me …’my goodness, she looks like a Playboy Model’… so I told him he should just introduce himself, and he said he felt that he couldn’t.” She says to me.
I was very flattered, but incredibly embarrassed, because of course, my Dad is standing right there listening to this, laughing maniacally at my mortification. He got a kick out of my bright red face. But despite looking like a strawberry marshmallow puff, I still feel good about myself today.
This is why my Dad and I don’t often publicly hang out together. Not because we’re embarrassed by one another, and not because we don’t get along, but because for some fucking reason, nobody thinks we’re father and daughter. They think there’s some steamy, torrid affair going on between some naive little girl and a dirty old man. You’re all perverts and I hope you rot in hell for making me so uncomfortable.
In other news, Steve and I finally came across the perfect microphone. It’s been our largest drawback in recording so far (other than the fact that we have a less than ideal recording space with all the ambient noise pollution around our building). It’s called the
Samson CO1U USB Condenser Microphone.
It’s extremely affordable and available at Tom Lee Music, so I can buy it locally and if it ends up totally sucking, I can return it in a jiffy. It does, however, need to be partnered with this stand:
(but the stand is relatively inexpensive as well).
wOOt. That is all.