Monday Bear

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I have a horrible, wretched tale for you all involving my cat.  The other night I was parading around my house in a t-shirt, no bra (what’s new?).  I picked up Kitty, who obviously did not want to be held, and I cuddled her against my chest.

My nipple fell on the floor.

Seriously, though.  She stuck her claw into my nipple orifice,  and pulled.  I ran to the bathroom and looked at it in the mirror, and blood was dripping from my nipple.  You know me, I don’t get grossed out by many things bodily, but when trauma has happened to my own body, I freak out.  I’m staring at my breast in the mirror, screaming, panicking, while Matt is in the living room laughing at me.  I ended up just sticking a cotton ball to my nipple and putting a band-aid over it.

There was so much blood.

I wonder if I’ll ever get to breastfeed from that nipple, or if it will split in half, like a morning pee.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve compiled a list of ____ are the new _____, and I’d like to share them with you, in lizt form, with brief nudity explainations.

• Gas is the new weather.

          Up until about five years ago, when you’re in an awkward situation with someone you don’t know very well where talking is pretty much mandatory, be it with a person in the elevator, a checkout person, someone you haven’t seen since you were 8, or your Mississippian grandmother whom you hate with every fiber of your being.  But just the other day, the maintenance man was in my bathroom, fixing my drain, which was clogged with hair from the Columbian roommate.  I would have actually preferred it had he just not talked to me and let me pretend to work on my computer, but he talked.  He talked about nothing.  And when he finished talking about nothing, he talked about gas prices.

• Pomegranates are the new Green Tea

Ah, pomegranates, the “it food” of the year.  Sure they’re good for you.  Sure they have cancer-fighting agents.  But here’s the kicker:  They look like placenta.  No, I’ve never had one.  I’m not sure I would know how to eat one.  Do you eat the seeds?  Do you drink the juice?  All I know is that the pomegranite-flavoured body butter does not smell yummy, and the pomegranite martinis my mom and I made for New Years last year were delicious.  However, they did not look like placenta. 

I’m sorry, I just can’t eat anything that looks like it came from a postnatal vagina. 

My prediction for the new new green tea:  Fennel. 

• Pseudo hippie is the new Pseudo punk.

In 2005, punk-ish clothes began hitting the shelves of J.C. Penney and Dillards.  Soon, every middle class high school kid started wearing dark eyeliner and …Vans… , listening to…Fallout Boy… and decorating their myspace.com pages with… skulls and stars and guns and things…
Soon, the few “real” punks set the new kids somewhat straight, and they began to call themselves “emo.”  This quickly became uncool.
Yes, I see pseudo-hippiedom on the rise:  environmentalism is a hot topic this year, and …Widespread Panic… is coming to MTSU.  But what started the rise of psuedo-hippiedom?  The same thing that started the rise of psuedo-punkdom:  Tie Dye and fringe aren’t quite popular, but what is popular is screen tees with a picture of the Earth on it, or “Save our Planet!” or a recycling symbol.  I went to J.C. Penney’s with my mom the other day, and I actually saw a knockoff of a World Wildlife Fund t-shirt. 

With that said, I actually think its great that environmentalism is becoming popular.  I just hate to see those kids with the cool t-shirts throw a can in the garbage rather than the recycling bin. 

And I really hope jam bands don’t take over.

• Nose rings are the new bellybutton rings.

Bellybutton rings used to be risque, alternative, and taboo until a few years ago.  Then, every seventh grader on the cheerleading squad had one, and I was “weird” and a “prude” for not having one in high school. 
In the early nineties, grunge Gen-X-ers were the only hoodlems who had nose rings, but by the time I was in high school, it was just the “skanks” who had them.  You know, the ones who smoked, wore hair gel, scrunchies, and K-Swiss shoes.  Nowadays, you don’t have to be a skank to have a nose ring.  You just have to be a girl whose parents kept them locked in their bedrooms until college, and you want to find a way to nonverbally say, “Fuck you.”
“Plus, it’s totally cute.”

If you really want to “fuck you” the world, get your labia pierced.  And show people.

I did have my nose pierced for about 4 hours when I was 14.  But a.) I was 14.  b.) I was “alternative.” and c.) My dad ripped it out as soon as he saw it.

Oh!  I just remembered!  My sister-in-law has a nose ring.  Sorry, Colleen.

I’ve just never been a huge fan.  Maybe it’s the skanks in high school who had them, with their cigarette smoking asses.  Maybe it’s the fact that Matthew thinks their hot, and I’m sure that if someone who looked just like me except with a nose ring croseed his path, he would leave me forever. 

In all seriousness, though, I bet the fact that his little sister has one has changed his mind.

So thank you, Colleen.  I’m going to buy you a bigger nose ring.  Or a pizza.  Or both?

———————————————————————————–

(That means that that section is over.)

Holy bitch.  The most embarrassing thing just happened to me.  And if you know Liz, you know Liz doesn’t get embarrassed easily. 

I have poor hearing anyway, but I’ve had a head cold lately, and it seems as though I have a sea shell pressed up against either ear. 

So I’m in Communications today, which is a freshman class, but I’m just taking it late.  The professor says, “What can you tell me about Socrates?” 

Someone says, “He was Greek.”
I say, “He wrote the Greek tragedies.”
The teacher says, “No, actually, that was Sophocles.” 

…

Every freshman in the class was laughing at me. 

I swear, I thought she said Sophocles.

Old dead people with no last names shouldn’t have such similar first names, anyway. 

So in conclusion, I’m in the computer lab right now, and there’s this foreign girl who’s jumping up and down in her seat because she got her abstract accepted.  When she’s not on the phone telling everyone she knows, she’s reading every word on her computer screen.  Don’t you hate it when you can’t tell if someone’s speaking English or Foreign? 

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 12th, 2008 at 12:48 PM and is filed under Awkward Scenarios, Breasts, Food, Philosophy, School. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.