My allergies here in Oregon have been weird. I have not had any of my regular symptoms; my body has decided instead to perfect a single symptom.
And that would be headaches.
Or else I am getting an allergy brain tumor.
Either way, Mark is here for me.
We are in the car, and I am massaging my head just above and to the side of my left eyeball. Sinus headaches feel to me not so much like headaches, but like small heavy rocks stuck in my blood vessels. Painful pointy rocks.
I rub and I say, “I am in pain. There is a distinct possibility that my eyeball might just fall out of my head and roll away.”
“You want to go home?”
“No, I am just telling you so that you will be prepared to help me re-insert my wayward eyeball should it leap from my skull.”
Mark takes his right hand off the steering wheel and makes a hard shoving gesture with the heel of his hand. Like he is doing a karate move, except he knows no karate.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“That’s how I would shove your eyeball back in,” he explains as he demonstrates the proper shoving motion. Like he is honking an invisible car horn in the air before us.
I am all giggly, “And why no fingers?”
“I would pick it up with my fingers, carefully wipe off the dirt, and then use the heel of my hand to shove it back into your head. That seems like the safest way. I don’t want to poke a hole in your eyeball.”
“No, I would not want a pokey hole in my eyeball because of sloppy handling. I am glad you have thought this through.”
My head is killing me, but it is hard to be in a bad mood with Mark.
We keep driving.
Mark starts talking about the name of a store up here in Oregon. It’s called Fred Meyer, and it is a trashy low-rent WalMart kind of place. Mark is of the strong opinion it should be called The Fred Meyer. Here is Mark . . .
“OK, because it just sounds like you should call it The Fred Meyer, don’t you think? If you’re going to Fred Meyer, it sounds like you are visiting a person, which you are not. The Fred Meyer sounds like you are visiting a store. It should be The Fred Meyer. That’s what I’m going to call it.”
Whatever. I am not listening that closely. We have had this conversation before.
And my head hurts.
And then he is off on the hardwoods (another misplaced the, so it is conversationally related). Mark hates when people talk about a house having the hardwoods instead of just saying that the house has hardwood floors. Hates it. Here he is . . .
“And when someone says to me, Look at the hardwoods! This house is filled with hardwoods, I just think they are so stupid. Like there is a possible way for people to misunderstand if you say the house has hardwood instead of hardwoods . . . like people are going to think that there is only one small piece of hardwood flooring, and the rest is bare subfloor. Hardwoods . . . that’s the dumbest plural ever.”
He turns to me, “Don’t you think?
I am still massaging my head, “Everything sounds right when you say it, babe.”
Contented silence for a few driving minutes, and then Mark says, “There’s the perfect job for your friend Sally!”
OK, and Sally is so an alias, as Sally would not be pleased at the next part of our conversation.
I look out the window, but I see no job opportunities, just a row of three women holding up giant signs. These particular signs extol the virtues of a new housing development.
I am confused, “What job?”
“Look at them! Especially that one,” and he points to the woman who is not actually holding her sign. She is instead supporting her sign as it leans against her. In one hand is a cup of coffee, and in the other she holds her cell phone.
“That would be the perfect job for Sally! Doing nothing at all and getting paid for it! She could just stand on the side of the road and drink coffee and talk and gossip on her cell phone all day long. That would be perfect for her.”
He adjusts the radio, “That would be the ideal job for Sally.”
I am all snorty and laughing, “OK, but I don’t think I will share this news with Sally. I am not at all sure she would be pleased to hear your career advice.”
I giggle as I imagine my friend on the side of the road with a sign, “I don’t think those sign holders make a lot of money, babe.”
“Well, it would be more than she’s making now, just sitting at home drinking coffee and complaining to people on the phone about how she doesn’t have a job. She could do all that on the side of the road and make a little money.”
“You are like a career guru, but . . . seriously? I don’t think I will share this advice with her.”
“Speaking of jobs, I might need your help with something I signed up to do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’m going to be a moderator for this on-line magazine discussion forum. You’re a good writer; you could help me.”
“Will I get paid?”
“No, they aren’t even paying me very much. It’s more of a prestige sort of thing.”
“What’s this prestigious job’s title?”
“I’m going to be a Thought Leader.”
And then, people? I am destroyed. That is the most ridiculous job title I have ever heard! I am gasping and snorting and laughing and giggling and tears are running down my face. I just keep saying, “Thought Leader????” over and over again, and every time I say it? Uncontrollable giggling and happy tears of laughter.
When I can finally breathe again . . .
“I just want to be sure I understand. You need my help to be a Thought Leader?”
Now he’s giggling as well, “Well I wasn’t going to tell them that I was following you.”
“So I will be like the seeing eye dog for their blind thought leader?’
“I would not put it that way,” but now he is laughing as well.
Both of us are still laughing as he parks the car, and as we get out, Mark asks me, “How’s your headache?”
And you know what?
“Much better.”
I have decided that I need to live vicariously through you. :) What fun banter! How could you not be inspired each day to write with Mark as a muse! And by the way, I think you helping him be a thought leader is a perfect idea! xoxo
Even now? When I imagine Mark being introduced at a dinner party as a Thought Leader?
I am all happy inside.
And the fact that the Thought Leader needs his hand held?
Helpless giggling.
Be careful, Mark is totally starting to steal the show here.
He’s like a thought leader rock star.
Isn’t it wonderful to be with someone who can make you forget your troubles?
Mark is wonderful. He truly is.
But he only gets to steal the show until I want it back.
Because on Pretty All True? There is only one Thought Leader.
And she is not named Mark.
Ok Fred Meyer is sooo not a trashy Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is a trashy Wal-Mart. Fred Meyer, also known as Kroger on the east coast, is a hell whole. You cannot walk into Fred Meyer without hearing an employee say “I hate my job, I’m quitting today”. They are union, they reserve the power to pull you off your lunch breaks if they see fit, and they fire everyone after 3 months so they don’t have to give you any benefits. I have NEVER met anyone who said “Oh yeah I LOVED working at Fred Meyer, it was awesome!!”. And because they fire employees at 3 months, no one who works there ever knows where anything is!! We were told they didn’t carry Palmers Cocoa Butter while I was pregnant, and we found it with the other moisturizers. What kind of store DOESN’T carry Palmers.
Street sign holders here get paid minimum wage and can also to whatever they want, but I also would never tell someone to go be a roadside sign holder hee hee. Sounds like an insult.
As for a Thought Leader, if they really need one, it must not be much of a website if people can’t lead their own thoughts, but I still hope he has fun with it anyway. How did Maj like your wrapping job?
Oh and I broke my no posting on Sunday rules, you should go see :)
OK . . . your points, one at a time.
Perhaps I wasn’t clear. WalMart, as far as I am concerned, is hell on earth. So when I say that Fred Meyer is a trashy WalMart? I mean it is a trashier, less desirable version of hell.
Ummmmm . . . Mark the Thought Leader sooooo meant to insult my friend with his career assistance.
And also . . . ummmmm . . . do you not see any thought leading going on here at Pretty All True? I guess that’s good, because we are supposed to wield our powers invisibly.
Note to self, do not reply to posts while watching adorable son bounce around in his new toy, it leads you to say something asinine like whole instead of hole.
To Kris….. The thought leading here explains why my posts are so random… Obviously I am lacking a thought leader on my own blog. Perhaps Mark could volunteer? hee hee. This idea intrigues me…. not Mark as one, just thought leaders in general. And we don’t have to pay them?! Sweet.
I stand corrected on the Fred Meyer issue. Young hooker vs old hooker. One got used more, but you still don’t really want to go into either one of them…
You know what? A lot of websites apparently have “thought leaders,” whose job it is to guide the discussions and interject intelligently. Who knew? Left to our own devices, the American public is pretty damned stupid, apparently.
The American public does shop at WalMart . . . that’s not a sign of discerning intelligence.
OK, embarrassing confession here, I refuse to shop in a Wal-Mart because I am terrified I will get mugged or robbed, or stalked by some creeper. I am not a mall rat, I shop at Target and Sears, and get groceries at Safeway and Freddies, but I will NOT go into a Wal-Mart without my husband, and even then I have mini panic attacks. Le sigh.
I do not shop at WalMart unless there is a shopping emergency that can ONLY be resolved at WalMart
And that? Just does not really happen.
WalMart is hell. And in hell? All kinds of bad stuff can happen.
Pretty sure.
Dante’s inferno should have included Walmart as the 10th division of hell.
I hate Wal-mart with every fibre in my being and most especially hate the seething masses that frequent them. I think they ARE the reason I hate Wal-mart. I know, I know.. everyones thinking, “Hey, wait a minute.. I shop at Walmart!”
Yep.. I’m talkin’ ’bout you and your screaming, food stained kids.
No one has ever come up with a good enough reason for me to go in that place.
HATE IT.
mkay. I think I need to go calm down now with some more coffee. luvs ya.
We are in COMPLETE agreement on WalMart.
I love when that happens!
And you said mkay . . . you are pretty fabulous.
A smart-ass, but a fabulous smart-ass.
mkay…at least mark didn’t ask you if you were okay! that woulda fuckin sucked cause we hate it when people ask if we’re okay when we are OBVIOUSLY not!!!
If I announce that I am not OK, then Mark is free to discuss the problem.
And when you open with “mkay?” Every single fucking time, I think you are about to break into your Mary Kay routine and try to sell me some make-up. It makes me giggle.
But that’s my issue. Carry on.
Haha, while I understand the actual job (because seriously? People are dumb) calling the position Thought Leader is so very 1984. Like it’s the rank below Thought Police. “Cross your fingers honey, I’ve been doing so well at my job of Thought Leader my promotion can’t be too far away. Wait, that’s not a book is it?”
Yes, that’s what I think of — George Orwell’s 1984.
I imagine Mark with mind-control powers.
If I find myself giving more than the usual number of blow jobs, I’m going to be way pissed off at Mark for abusing his powers.
Where is Mark, anyway? I am feeling all giving and unselfish.
What?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! wow
soooo solly. had no idea that would actually leak over onto your post. delete it! delete delete delete!
Love you!
OK, if there is going to be giggle-pee leaking on my blog?
You can’t just walk away with an apology tossed over your shoulder.
Get back here and clean that up!
So, this my first (more then likely only) time to leave you a comment. I found you blog the other day from the Topmommyblogs voting thing. I just wanted to say that you have made me laugh more tonight then I have laughed all week. Thank you!
Thank you for the lovely comment!
But why will this be your only one? You did such a nice job!
I am very much a lurker ;)
Someone has commented twice now! Be careful, or soon you will be sharing all kinds of private stuff with perfect strangers!
And once you start down that road? It is hard to stop.
I am a teensy bit addicted to the over-sharing drug.
Pass me the bong and I will tell you all about the time this one guy asked me to . . .
HA! I am not really high! So I am not sharing that incredibly inappropriate story.
And does anybody say “bong” anymore? That is just a goofy word.
BONGBONGBONGBONG . . . hilarious!
OK, maybe I am a little high.
That is so romantic. Whoda thunk that witty banter and mocking laughter were cure-all’s? Down here we use Copenhagen. It’s like duct tape.
Like the chewing tobacco/snuff Copenhagan?
My eyeball is all cringing just thinking about this medical “glue.”
Or did you mean it was a relationship duct tape? As in, “The family that spits together fits together” . . . or something like that?
Yep. That nastiness. EXCELLENT topical ointment for mosquito bites :) And no. Our family does not spit together. Tim is on his own on that one. Speaking of…I’m gonna go rant about his spitting habits…
OH! There’s a song documenting this as well. I almost forgot!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XAsSHfrW3I&feature=related
Listen for the lyrics at the end. Priceless.
Make conception a wonder and childbirth a pleasure
That’s Copenhagen
Copenhagen it makes me feel so good . . .
That is a weird weird song!
I just want to be clear . . . you do not spit?
You are way big over-sharer today!
YAY!
No ma’am. Smoke like a freight train, yes. Dip snuff, ummm no. Gag me with an effing pitchfork.
I was not suggesting that you used snuff and spit, only that you do not spit.
I assume then that you are swallower?
She asked all innocently.
How the hell did we go from headache remedies to bj’s? Seriously, my shit just cracked up. Just so you know, I love you.
And yes.
What?
My mind tends to wander to blow jobs, especially when Mark is being all mind-controlling with his thought leader skills.
He is abusing his power, just a bit, I believe.
Although he has done so many nice things for me today, and I am feeling all warm and grateful and lucky to have him. Plus, generous and unselfishly sexual.
Wait . . . what?
Here down south, its the Wal-Mart, as in “Kin ya tote meh to the Wal-Mart, mah trucks bein’ fixeded”
And yes, “the Wal-Mart” is the seventh level of hell.
And the closest Target is actually in the same shopping center as a Wal-Mart. It serves as kind of an overfill collector from the Wal-Mart population, thus barely a step up.
Here on the West Coast? Target is a pretty nice place. Seriously!
On a scale of 1-100 in trashiness, with Walmart a 90 and Fred Meyer being a 95, Target is like a 35.
Not bad at all.
But being right next door to a WalMart would bring contamination, I would imagine.
Titles like Thought Leader are why I prefer unemployment to corporate America.
But I’m sure Mark will be a great one.
You, Kris, are clearly already leading quite a few thoughts, stealthily, like a ninja.
Thought Ninja, now there’s a title.
Thought Ninja is a pretty awesome title!
I like the stealthy image of me, all bendy and avoiding the red laser lines of detection. What was that movie where Catherine Zeta Jones was all crazy bendy and working her way through the red laser alarm system? I would be like that, all stealthy and sexy, but in your mind!
Your defenses are useless against me.
See what you did just there?
Since I have no real-life visual reference for you, you now look like Catherine Zeta-Jones in a paramilitary catsuit. Foxy!
You have crazy thought ninja skillz.
And this is why I will never be at any of those blogger conferences.
And why there is no photo of me on this blog.
I prefer the fantasy versions . . . of you as well of of me.
I love that Mark was thoughtful enough to consider using the heel of his hand instead of his fingers to reinsert your eyeball. LMAO.
Hey, I know Blogger hates you and all…so I can’t reply to the comments you leave me. Can you somehow leave me your email address so I can reply?
I really do have to figure out what the hell is going on there — Blogger keeps calling me anonymous (which I am not), and saying that I don’t own my identity (which I so fucking do).
I have sent tech-support an email, but he is all busy bossing people’s thoughts and cannot be bothered.
I will see what I can do. My email is kris@prettyalltrue.com. I will start leaving that in my Blogger comments until I get this resolved.
Thanks!
Aww, that’s so creepy and thoughtful, the best kind of romance.
I know! Thoughtful plus creepy is all kinds of sexy.
Wait? Did I just say that?
Mark . . . stop mind-fucking me!
He is all insane with power.
FM,
It’s a trap being a forum mod for a computer/gaming website. All I got were 2nd generation free t-shirts (ones THEY got for free from advertisers), a “lifetime” free subscription to the website’s better (HD) content and invites to software launch parties. At least I use the t-shirts for gardening and other messy work.
If Clive was worried about his true identity, why did he make an account with his real name? Just curious, but are we now going to see “Clive” posting?
Ho-hum. Mondays. Time for tea. Tag says “the tribute to learning is teaching.”
We had our niece over Saturday night, gawd that toddler can EAT and EAT and EAT. She’s like a silkworm without the fucking after hatching part. She ate the same portion as one of our 8 year old girls. Wow. Also, we can’t have anymore kids (besides my little doc visit a few years ago) because our house is soooooo not child safe. While our backs were turned, that little crumb catcher ate half a nerf dart and most of an eraser shaped like an alien. Good thing I didn’t leave my broken glass and surgical knife collection out.
The girls are almost done with my (their project, my work) class project. I’ve sunk about $20 and 6 hours of labor into each of their diorama. I’m curious what kind of grade they (I) will get… *sigh* I’ll pass it on.
Laters!
Axel?
You were not a Thought Leader. You were a Dork Leader. Completely different jobs.
Mark is not linkable, but yes, I wondered that as well. Mark works in mysterious ways. He is like a god, now that he is all thought-leadery. I am not to question him.
My sister has a 2 year old and a 6 month old, and when she visits? I am reminded of what a pain in the ass it was to child-proof our home. There are sharp and dangerous and messy and pokey things everywhere! And the niece? She finds them all, and is thrilled! And then she hits her head on our too-hard and un-cushioned table and the party is over.
Aunt guilt.
What sort of diorama have you made for your daughters (who are supposed to do this project themselves, you know). Bad fathering. Bad.
Post photos so that we may grade your elementary-school diorama-crafting skills!
Ha ha… dork leader. More like lemming leader. I didn’t even know CBS bought out my home site during my last 2-year blogging hiatus.
Don’t make me create a bunch of disposable email addresses just to boost up the “obnoxious blogger” votes.
MORE PEOPLE NEED TO VOTE… CLICK DA LINKS!!! (at least the one for topmommyblogs.com)
Disposable email addresses?
Tech support??? Thought Leader??? Why aren’t you on top of this cheating opportunity?
Ah, see, now I love you AND your husband.
Thank you! Mark is pretty great.
I love you as well.
You guys sound like you’d be super fun to hang out with IRL haha!
(not meant to be creepy…or stalkish…just throwing that out there…;) haha! No seriously.)
Mmmmmm hmmmmm . . . . that sounds like so much fun! We should so hang out!
(The rest of you? There is no way I would invite Jess over. She could be a crazed serial killer stalker! But I have found it better to humor people like . . . well, people like Jess.)
And Jess? Just you and me, babe. The rest of these people? Losers.
Hee hee!