Dining Alone

Catherine: Hey guys. I meant to write this post over the holidays, because that’s when this story takes place but guess what – I didn’t.

So – here it is now.

When I was about 8 or 9, I got a bright pink matching long-sleeved Barbie shirt and Barbie pants from a friend for my birthday. They were pajamas, but I didn’t understand that – I thought it was an outfit. My birthday was in March, but I so revered this outfit that I SAVED IT UNTIL THE FOLLOWING DECEMBER – Christmas Eve, to be exact. I wanted to debut the shit out of this because it was FIERCE.

Growing up, I didn’t have my own bedroom, I shared a room with my brothers that had no door, so I would have to change in the bathroom. On this particular Christmas Eve, once my entire family had arrived for dinner, I went into the bathroom to make my move. For the first time in my life, I also locked the door – I thought this was suuuuuper grown up. I put on my Barbie ensemble and was ready to greet the family, expecting nothing if not an obscene amount of praise. But. I couldn’t unlock the door.

The lock, you see, was a weird turnkey thingy, and I couldn’t get it to work. It wasn’t until people started to need to use the (only) bathroom that I had to sort of explain, um… I can’t open the door… It was horrifying. I thought I was going to be in there FOREVER. My family was coaching me, trying to explain, “Just turn it to the left, and lift it a little.” Nothing. I was crying. I was going to die, alone, in a bathroom, in my Barbie outfit that I now HATED. Finally, after probably 45 minutes, I was free, having unlocked the door successfully moments before my dad was going to unscrew the doorknob. But I was also humiliated. I had since changed out of my Barbie outfit, so I emerged in what I had been wearing before. I got a plate of food, and too embarassed to talk to anyone, I took it into the bathroom where I shut the door (I didn’t lock it, of course) and ate alone. I remember looking at the discarded pink ensemble with SO MUCH HATE and no, I never wore it again.

This was the first in a string of being locked in bathrooms moment in my life – another memorable one was locking myself in a bathroom in Lithuania and giving myself a full-blown panic attack. So. Now I always test a lock before I lock it to see how it works. Like, I still do that. Y’all, I got problems.

Jana: Oh lil Cath. Poor lil Cath.

I wish you still had the Barbie outfit. Did it have Barbie’s face on it? Or was it a million little Barbies in a pattern that covered all the cloth? I just wish I knew, for some reason. Either way, I’m delighted to picture you sitting on a toilet, face over your plate of food, refusing to leave the bathroom. And I’m happy to report that, just a few miles away, I was probably doing something similar right at that very moment, unaware that parallel me (you) existed.

Slugging in the Spring

Jana: In honor of daylight savings time, here is a mini PSA post.

It was April vacation, 1998, when my friend and I invented Slugging. What, you are probably asking yourself, is Slugging? Well, readers, Slugging is a phenomenal activity for children and adults of all ages. It requires only a few sleeping bags, a (preferably carpeted – ok definitely carpeted) staircase, and a desire to have an awesome time. Participants should be wearing sweatpants or other pajama-like clothing items. Ideally, participants are in the middle of a blissful, week-long sleepover extravaganza, and have been wearing said pajama items for days.

A good way to warm up for Slugging is to put on thick socks and slide around the kitchen for a while. It’s definitely also ok to eat pieces of whatever is being made for dinner, to occasionally fall down, and then to feel bored of sliding and get out the stilts that you received for christmas (after BEGGING for them. They weren’t delivered in time for christmas morning, which made you cry, but then the company felt so bad about the mistake that they sent two pairs. This is good news for your friend). Walk on the stilts until one of them suddenly shoots out from under your arm and nearly hits someone in the face (at which point other members of the household may request that they be put away – it’s best to comply with this).

After sliding and stilting, what will come next? That’s right: the time for Slugging is now. Leave the thick socks on. Cover the stairs with the sleeping bags. Also, it’s a good idea to put some pillows at the bottom of the staircase, forming a sort of pillow bed. Then, climb to the top of the stairs, together. Side by side, get down onto your stomachs. Count to three. On three, propel yourselves forward down the stairs. Enjoy the rush! You’re alive! Collapse into the pillows. Laugh for approximately five minutes. Jump up and repeat.

This can be done tournament-style. It can include spectators. It will not get old. Happy Spring!

Good thing I titled this work of art and signed it as “me”. Wouldn’t have known it was a flower. WOULD have known it was by me. 

Catherine: My favorite thing is the caption for the photo. That is my favorite. What a way to comeback, MARCH, HERE WE ARE! SORRY WE HAVE BEEN AWAY!

Advice To Everyone

Catherine:

Hey, guy. Advice, unsolicited, from me to you. Think about it like an early Christmas gift.

If you have a broken nail, or a hang nail, or anything like that, don’t try to fix it after having drank an entire bottle of wine. With scissors. At one in the morning.

It won’t turn out how you hoped!