The Big Burn

I'm gonna take a page out of my girl Taylor Swift's book-- like her or not (I'm not always sure I know), you've gotta give her credit for kicking butt and taking names and then putting those actual names in her songs.




In some instances, naming names is truly unattractive. I'm thinking about the time Freddie Prinze, Jr. was on Rosie O'Donnell and talked about all the kids in high school who were mean to him. It seemed a little childish. But then again he likes to say that he grew up in the hood, had to put food on his momma's table, and saw people get shot. Sure thing, tough guy. You went to La Cueva, home of the most spoiled of Albuquerque's druggies and you had a few chores. Whatever.

Anyway, don't ask me why T.S.'s calling people out is better, but somehow it is. Maybe because it's in a catchy tune?

I don't sing, obviously, but this weekend was a bridge-burner all over the place, and the more I think about it, the less I care. I'm too old to take crap off of anybody. And I'm too good.
So I'm not going to go completely Taylor on you, but you all know who you are. I'm through.

Gossipy Ms. K, stop dealing dirt. You get your hands dirty, and everyone knows.

Know-it-All U.C., I don't trust you, and it's going to take a lot more than your bravado to win me back. PS. Games come back to bite you in the butt. Glad it worked out for your pals this time, but it's a bad practice.

JD, I love you, but you've gotta stop making me cry. And if that means I'VE gotta stop hanging out with you, we may just have to take a break. I'm running out of Kleenex, and you're not helping. I know you're trying, but it's not working.

Drama President-- you've got to stop living your life through everyone else, and quit stirring things up. Surely you're tired of watching the carnage by now?

Dopey, did you really have to come into my Sunday School class and insult my teaching abilities?

Of course, I'm just as guilty. I enabled Bad Penny. I tried to be nice to former-evil. I was a listening ear to the young pontificate. PS. to him-- get an education! Bestest is not a word!

Oh, grr! I've had a terrible weekend. I'm ever-so-grateful to my parents who didn't say I-told-you-so and to the true friends who checked on me. I wasn't myself at all. Thank you Dex for loving me in spite of my crazy, even though you provoke me like mad. CJ, I'm sorry I said I don't think of you as a sexual person. It didn't come out right. Love, I'm sorry I picked a fight with you and brought up past transgressions. It was childish. Thanks for your forgiveness. Curls, I' promise I'm not always so emo. Mr. Walks-on-Water, I'm sorry I cancelled our dinner. I promise a good effort when I'm myself again.

And why is it that I'm not myself? Ever heard the expression "give-out?" I think that's where I am. Despite U.C.'s urging, this idea of "taking care of no. 1" doesn't really work for me. I'm trying to send out all the love I can, but don't know where to get it. Not JD's couch. Not from the gossip-mongers. Trying to make others feel good about themselves is a big part of my fairy-godmother identity, and life feels wrong now that no one needs me. And I've remembered this weekend again why it is I hate asking for help... because when it doesn't come, it's devastating. I don't even know what to ask for. Just don't give me any more matches.