Brian said yesterday, “I feel like Bran Van 3000 and your blogger are your new imaginary friends.”
Well, I’d like to address that. I would think that of all people, MY ROOMMATE who nearly shares the same astrological chart as I, would be more sensitive to the fact that I just got out of an intense, extremely meaningful imaginary relationship with an imaginary boyfriend, and the pain of this separation still hurts me beyond words within my deep, vulnerable, imaginary places. It is not every day that you meet an imaginary soulmate who makes you feel like such a strong, imaginarily black woman as this amazing imaginary man did to me. And when I found out that he cheated on me with that damn whore who works at the DMV, with the hot body but ugly face and over-compensates for it by acting really slutty and talking non-stop about her prowess in kinky sadomasochistic situations to anyone who will listen when in truth she’s just a scared little girl rebeling against her overbearing, Bible-thumping mother, it pretty much broke my imaginary heart. But when I found out she gave him a not so imaginary STD, well, that made me imagine giggling uncontrollably for hours. And hours and hours.
So lay off me. I’m wallowing in imaginary self-pity and I’m lucky to have imaginary friends who are willing to be supportive.
Today’s mood: I-just-watched-The-Big-Bounce-so-how-the-hell-do-you-think-I-feel?