What I Thought About Today

I am entirely convinced that the only way to solve a Rubik's Cube is to peel off the colored stickers and replace them on the correct sides.

I once knew a woman named Dee Day.

We have a stray cat that comes around and barfs on our back porch. We call him Ralph.

A part of the sun exploded on the day I was born.

The guy who works in the deli next to my work calls everyone from the Museum, Heather. This secretly makes me feel good.

I don't really know what toner does.

My father once knocked over a bowl of soy sauce at a sushi restaurant and it seeped into the white table cloth in the exact shape of Africa (Madagascar and all).

The Old Switcheroo

When I was six, my older brother Chris told me that when people reached the age of ten, they changed genders. He supported his story with elaborate details about his former life as a girl. He showed me a rather feminine-looking cross stitch my mother's friend had made for him when he was born and he claimed that he'd made it right before he went through The Change. He said his name used to be Christina and that it took him over a year to get used to answering to Chris. I cried that day, not because I was afraid of becoming a boy, but because I hated the name Heath.

The Darrin Divide

Growing up, I was a huge fan of the show Bewitched. My friends and I used to have Nick at Nite sleepovers so we could stay up late and watch reruns of the crazy antics of Samantha and Darrin Stephens. But something that really bothered me about the show was how Darrin was replaced by someone else after season 5. The same character, two different actors. How is that ok? You can't just change actors halfway through a show's run and hope nobody notices. The Great Darrin Switch even divided my group of friends in two. You had your Dick York fans (the original Darrin) and your Dick Sargent fans (the imposter). Naturally, I was a Dick York girl. But things got pretty heated. Eight-year-old girls can be mean.

Night Bruises

Lately I've been waking up with huge bruises all over my arms and legs. I'm pretty sure I go to bed bruise-free, so I'm not exactly sure what happens the few hours I'm asleep. I did have this dream the other night where I got into a fight with Vince Vaughn, but I'm fairly certain I've never met Vince Vaughn, so the bruises can't be from that. Maybe I flail around while I sleep, but there aren't enough broken things in my room to support that theory. From the size of the bruise near my elbow I discovered this morning, there should be a good-sized hole in the wall next to my bed, or at least a broken lamp. I'm tempted to film myself sleeping to see exactly what happens every night, but the thought of watching myself sleep on camera creeps me out. I suppose there are some things I'd just rather not know.