Daydreams and Unibrows [ 2005-12-28, 7:25 p.m. ]

Coming home tonight, I almost missed my exit off the highway because I was jamming along to a song on the radio. The song? When I See You Smile - Bad English. Yes, I am filled with shame and embarrassment.

I sometimes find myself irritated with the hour commute I have from work to home (stupid fucking drivers…you know who you are…get out of the fast lane and move your ass to the right.) But for the most part, I enjoy my alone time in the car. I always have. It allows me time to sing along to songs that were never good, even in their prime, with a voice that would have the Idol viewing audience at home proclaiming me a fame whore scoring my five minutes. I am free to think about inane bullshit and to talk to myself. Yes, I am that crazy bitch having a conversation with herself in her car all alone. Most of all, I enjoy the millions upon millions of daydreams I have had, since childhood, while doing 80 on the highway. In my car, anything is possible. I might win the lottery. My ex, The Ass, might contract syphilis. Or gonorrhea, depending on my mood. I find myself able to say exactly what I have always wanted to say in exactly the way I mean to say it. In my car, I am sexy. I am writing a novel worth publishing and gushing over. I am dancing the night away. And don’t forget…I am singing and I sound fabulous. No one is around to witness all of this greatness, but I get out of the car feeling like a brand new person.

Only Mr. Bent (this is what I have decided, for numerous reasons, to call my significant other), has the ability to find every outlandish movie on TV. If it is corny, if it is raunchy, if it is the worst script with the most fucked up dialog, he will find it and he will enjoy it immensely. Every day I find myself wondering just what will be in store for me. Today? A movie that consists of lines like, “Unibrow, unibrow, lovely lovely unibrow,” and, “Evil alien pussies!” And yet somehow, Deidrich Bader makes it funny. Or maybe Mr. Bent’s warped ass sense of humor is rubbing off on me. Either way, the outcome is the same. I sit down in front of the TV and realize that I am agreeing to many, many years of the worst movies ever made.

The house seems so quiet right now. Mr. Bent is sleeping. Apparently, “Evil alien pussies!” was not enough to keep his attention. My baby girl is not here. We drove about 1,000 miles round trip this past weekend to meet The Ass so that she could spend Christmas with her daddy. (Extremely depressing for me. I didn’t expect it to be as hard as it is.) We are driving the same trip this coming weekend for her return home. We leave on Sunday and hopefully I will have managed to grab a few hours sleep. We have a New Year’s party planned at our place. The drive should be fun! Look at how excited I am already. As long as she comes home, I don’t care.

I’m off to steal the remote while I can. He’s sleeping. Stupid alien movie is over. I have a small window of opportunity.

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