The Gurly Life

The mystery of the red pajama bottoms

The other day I did laundry. Among the items I washed were my red pajamas. They're "boyfriend" style pajamas, with the jacket-like top and the pants. You know what I mean. I washed 3 sets of pajamas, tops and bottoms. When I put my pajamas in the hamper, I put both top and bottom. No sense is washing half a set of pajamas, right?

I remember putting the bottoms into the washer. I remember putting them in the dryer. And I am pretty sure (though maybe not that sure) that I took them out of the dryer, and put them back into the hamper at the end of the drying cycle and then took them up to my condo with the rest of the clean laundry, and I even have a memory of taking them of the hamper when I got back upstairs and started putting all the clean stuff away.

Somewhere, my mind must have made something up because once I put everything away I realized I did not have the bottoms for the red pajamas. I walked back down to the machines -- no bottoms. I looked everywhere in my place, no bottoms.

The only explanation is that someone took my pajama bottoms (well, it's probably not the only explanation, but it's the most ridiculous, so that's what I'm going with). I have a stalker who, instead of stealing my cute colored panties, steals my pj bottoms. I suppose, in light of my whole "redifining sexy" campaign, which involves the famous "sexy pants" look, that it is not entirely surprising that the item of clothing coveted by my stalker is flannel pj bottoms, but still! I want my damn pajama bottoms back, you freak! They were a gift.

If anyone else spots them, drop me a line.

The nervous habit to end all nervous habits

Recently I was loitering with a friend and colleague, and she told me about a networking luncheon she attended where she sat near a woman whose nervous habit was ...

...wait for it...

twirling her armpit hair.

Oh yes. Not only were her pits unshaven (who does that anymore? I mean, really!), but she wore a sleeveless top AND she would absent-mindedly pull at and twirl her armpit hair. This was at lunch, with food, mind you. I'm kinda surprised no one said anything to her. I guess when you see that you think, what could I possibly say here? Then you just let it go because there is nothing to say that does not have the word "gross" in it and that does not involve dry heaving. Which is not what you want to do at a networking luncheon.

So, if you were worried that constantly adjusting yourself, or licking your lips, or twirling your hair, or adjusting your clothes, or whatever your annoying habit of choice, well, all I can say to you now is: carry on.

At long last, another breakthrough

I know you've all been wondering: where have those posts gone, the ones where I have some epiphany about myself, and then write about it like I have no sense of decency?

After years of Landmark Education and PAX Programs and various other personal growth stuff, I think I sorted through most of the shittiest stuff. I don't mean to suggest I couldn't use some improvements, the remodeling never really ends, but the focus has shifted from lifting barriers to building skills that I either don't have, or want to improve.

Naturally, as I build skills, I come across a few barriers. After all, if I didn't have the barriers, I'd already have the skills, right?

So here's a really juicy one. I don't like to admit this one because it makes me look very bad, and I don't like to look very bad - just bad enough to be interesting. This has been brewing for a few weeks, and it's probably rambly.

As you know, I have specifically been doing a lot of work in the relationships realm. My goal is to (one day while I'm still young enough to chew my own food) be in a relationship that is empowering and fulfilling. Much of the work I've done in the last few years has been to that goal. In the recent past, my focus has shifted away from my own individual stuff to partnership. I've been looking at what partnership skills do I need, would I like to have, and so on, especially since partnership skills translate really well in every area of life. I figured even if I have no romantic partnership, I still have friends, family, work, neighbors, and so on. Can't hurt, right?

Of course, though, the focus is relationships.

Imagine if you will the setting: it is early evening in Los Feliz, I am going for a brisk walk in the neighborhood, enjoying nature and listening to music on my iPod. I'm feelin' pretty special, with all my partnership skills, and I'm all, check me out I'm totally fabulous, that's me, yup, yup (nevermind that I'm still single, don't use facts to confuse the issues, please, you know how I hate that).

I'm bouncing along thinking about how great I am (this is always a red flag) and how superior I am to all those other women, poor dears, who are actually in relationships that work, and it suddenly hits me, like a turd between the eyes: that I'm often calibrating who I am in order to catch the right guy (not just any guy, mind you, the right one, whatever the heck that means). I suddenly noticed how I watch myself when I interact with men to see if I'm doing it right. And really, what it comes down to is that I haven't been doing all this personal growth stuff to be a better person, but to manipulate the right guy, when I find him, into being with me, because I'm so awesome. Urgh.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing inherently sleazy about proactively looking for a partner -- it's just that there was something, I don't know, weaselly about how I've been doing it. It's hard to explain, though as you read this you might be thinking, yeah I see it too, but the place I was standing to set my intention was a crappy place. It was like putting ice cream on poo and trying to sell it like a delicious banana split. No, that's not poo, it's chocolate. NOT delicious.

So I walked along a bit more, and thought to myself, what if I do all that I'm doing for no reason at all, just because that's who I am and being a good person is important to me? What a fucking idea!

But that's not all. What also became evident is why I have in the past (thankfully not anymore) been a magnet for married guys. It's a mechanism that I had sort of identified, it had to do with how I engage with men (obviously!), but I hadn't seen the mechanism's agenda. And while I was on my walk, I saw it, and recoiled at the ugliness of it all. Thankfully, it was night, no one could see the grimace on my face, or the gagging. What causes that shift in who I'm being that attracts married men is a voice in my head that says that I want that man to risk something for me, because that means I'm worth something.

What. The fuck. Is that?????

Until I saw that, the best I could is notice when a married guy would start being interested, and bring down the shutters. Not a very empowering defense mechanism, by the way, I don't recommend it. Now I can see it before it even begins. I can hear the voice in my head like I'm some schizo patient off her meds, and I can feel my body shift and my face take on a different expression, it's really weird and creepy. Sooo gross.

All this I saw several weeks before I even left for vacation. I think it was some time in March or April. The first thing that happened was that the emotional charge in the realm of relationships fell away. All of a sudden, I wasn't emotionally invested in getting a relationship. For several weeks, I just didn't care at all about this part of my life. At. All. I forgot to get online to check my profile for weeks at a time, and when I did remember and found no messages from anyone, I'd think, meh, I have to work on my profile anyway, whatever.

Since then I have been noticing immediately when "the married man bomb" activates and have been easily able to disarm it. Over time it is activating less and less and has almost disappeared.

So ... yikes, right?

Now that I've settled, and the married guy issue is disappearing, I'm back doing my work on partnership, and still looking for an awesome guy, sans frustration and disappointment. Thus far, no flopping between white-knuckling it and giving up in resignation.

Now I can get back to the business of playing with my camera, preparing my Guide to Egypt: A Pictorial Representation, and standing on my head for 5 minutes at a time.

Life is good.

I was almost killed!

Ok not really, but I could have died. This morning I left for work in Pixie the Prius and as I pulled into traffic I had a sneezing fit. And by sneezing fit I mean I sneezed something like 10 times in a row. This only took about a minute, but you know in a minute much damage can be done.

Here's what I learned about sneezing and driving.

Have you noticed how when you sneeze your eyes shut tightly? Someone told me that it's because the air is forced out of your lungs so hard (200 miles an hour, I hear), that if you don't shut your eyes tightly, they will pop right out of your head and simply dangle off your face by the optic nerve. I have no idea how true this is, but the image stuck with me and every time I sneeze I have this vision. I also wonder whether I would still be able to see, except it would be all weird and I'd see my feet or my lap (depending on whether I was sitting or standing) and whether my 3D vision would be all shot to hell and I would just get two separate images. I mean at some point the 3D vision would no longer work, especially if one eye went all googly and started swivelling in a different direction. Right?

The other thing about sneezing is that your body (or is just me?) kind of convulses, like a giant involuntary spasm of every muscle in my body. When I sneeze once or twice it's not a big deal, but anyone who's had a sneezing fit will tell you how exhausting it is. It might be more accurate to say that I will tell you how exhausted I am after a sneezing fit.

What seems to happen when I keep sneezing is that the giant spasms build on each other. My body hasn't quite recovered from the first sneeze, when the second hits, then the third, and so on. So the spasms become more intense and uncontrolled.

What I further discovered this morning is that if I'm having a sneezing fit while I'm driving, strange things happen like I start to smack my forehead against the wheel, sudden acceleration, and random turns of the wheel, directly into traffic, of course. It did occur to me to pull over, but as I said this all took less than a minute, and by the time I had the thought to do that it was over.

Point is, I could have died. I didn't, but I could have.

Ok what is going on here?

Fire across the street.

Fire one building over.

Fire in Griffith Park by the zoo.

It's a siege!

In the land of the blind, Captain Obvious is the one-eyed king

Today I dropped off the car to get its regularly scheduled maintenance. I mentioned to the service guy, Mitch, that just last week I had felt my front left wheel wobble a little as I was turning right at high speeds. No, I didn't screech around a corner on two wheels, I was on a freeway that bent to the right and as I followed it at 76mph (what? it's only 11mph above the limit, and I was the slowest car, I swear) the wheel weebled wobbled for a few seconds.

A few hours later, Mitch called me with an update.

Mitch: Hello, Ms. Gerli, this is Mitch.
Me: Hi there, is the car all done?
Mitch: Yes, I'm all done. About that wheel wobbling, did your car have an accident?
Me: Yes, it did, soon after I bought it. [In my head, I'm all, wait, I thought he said he was done. Does this mean he's not done? Is there something wrong with the car? OHMYGOD two years later I find out that the work the body shop did was not good and now I have to pay money to get it done right, and then I'll have to go back there and haggle with them to redo it or pay for it, and then I'll need a rental oh god I fucking hate rentals, I always end up backing them up into some pole damn it seriously after all this time NOW THIS PROBLEM COMES UP WHAT. THE.FUCK!]
Mitch: Yeah, the bolts that hold up the undercarriage [or something] weren't tightened properly so that's why the wheel was wobbling. Maybe they just got loose or something. Anyway, I tightened them for you...
Me: Ok. So what else needs to be done? Is anything wrong with the work they did?
Mitch: Oh no, everything is fine. The wheel won't wobble anymore. I just wanted to tell you that I had tightened the bolts for you, because they were loose.
Me: [?? That's it? Loose bolts? Nothing else? That seems almost too good to be true.] Ah. Ok. Well ... thank you very much for that, for tightening the bolts for me, that's terrific. I just need to pick up the car, then?
Mitch: Yes, it's ready for you.

At the time, I thought it was weird that he would call just to tell me he had tightened some bolts for me, but now I think maybe I'm the weird one.

In other news, it took me most of the day to figure out that that awful rotting garbage smell pervading my condo was coming from the garbage.

The mysteries of modern technology

Occasionally, I like to see what Google searches led people to my blog. Normally they're fairly straight forward. But sometimes they're strange. On a Google site that appears to be in Arabic, my blog was found under this search: "sloo sex gerli smal." I'm all, huh? You know, it'll likely turn out to be some secret terrorist code, and later this afternoon I will find my door smashed open by the FBI. And you thought that the Russian spy ring thing was a waste of resources. Hah! I win!

Russian spies or mass delusion?

Am I the only one who thinks there's a possibility that this ring of Russian spies is a group of escaped mental patients suffering from a mass delusion? I mean, their entire operation appears to have consisted of blending in and just ... reporting on what they noticed, or something to that effect. I have heard in the news (and we know how good they are at reporting) about fake passports, pretend marriages, invisible ink (really? invisible ink? are you shitting me?), buried cash, lame phrases about meeting in California versus the Hamptons, and even having children so as to look like the typical American family.

Aside from what are likely to be unfortunate effects on the "fake" children, the whole thing is so ridiculously bumbling and old-fashioned as to be almost cute. I think my cat would have done a better job setting up a spy ring - which leads me to the only plausible explanation, that we will come to find out that Russia had nothing to do with this, and that these people made the whole thing up to escape the mind-melting drudgery of suburbia and eventually believed their own hype.

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Creepy? Why, yes, thank you.

Every now and again, I comb through my 400+ FB friends and think: who have I not spoken to for over a year? Whose updates do I not ever see or care about? Who has never once commented on any of my status updates? Whose name doesn't even look familiar? And then I unfriend them. It's not that I don't like them, it's just not necessary to have everyone I've ever met or spoken to as FB friends. If I unfriend someone and they get offended, that's ok, I'm not likely to find out or care, since I never talk to them.

I also look to see how many friends they have themselves. If they have more than 600 friends, their FB page has a broader purpose than just keeping in touch with good friends, and I don't think they'll miss me.

A few months ago I got a friend request from some guy who has an Italian name, and no profile pic. Don't remember how I knew him, or if I knew him, but I accepted the request. At the time there was probably a good reason. His name popped up recently, and I thought, who is this guy anyway? So I went to his FB page, and lo and behold, I WAS HIS ONLY FRIEND. And still no profile picture. Mmmh. I'm pretty sure that was not the case when I accepted his original request. Heebie jeebies, anyone?

Which begs the question: WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I unfriended him. If he started his FB page and then just forgot about it, he won't miss me. If he's stalking me, he'll have to find another way to do it.

My official position on stalkers is that I get to decide who can and cannot stalk me, as well as the acceptable parameters of the stalking. That is all.

Um ... I'm kinda speechless, actually