try a little tenderness

originally posted June 5, 2007

As I keep telling myself, a real woman knows how to apologize …


Dear Federally-Funded Grant Group,

I'm sorry I yelled at you. Perhaps I was too quick to anger. You and I have spent enough time together that I should know that you're going to do this sort of thing from time to time. You can't help it. I need to rise above this, and when our relationship is faced with this sort of stress, I should remember the good times. Like that time when your colleague from Amsterdam was visiting, and you had the good Dr. Brain Scientist and me over for breakfast. I was charmed by the way you observed that my name was spelled in the exact same way as the name of a particular rock superstar of the seventies, and how you were so interested in explaining this bit of interest to your visiting guest that you actually left your pancakes in order to put on a song informing us that you wanted to put on your boogie shoes and boogie with us. All this, just so that your visiting colleague would appreciate exactly what it was you were talking about. And it turned out he DID know what you were talking about, and this shared experience of seventies disco goodness moved you so much that you both got up to dance in a disco-y sort of fashion. It was at that point that I knew you cared. I must also confess that I can't stay mad at you knowing that you were concerned that Dr. C might not be having a bachelor party, and took it upon yourself to suggest that perhaps BS might help you in organizing such an event. That was sweet. As it turns out, Dr. BS and I had already discussed this issue, and had concluded that we would have a co-ed function for Drs. C and S – don't worry, grant group, we've got your titties covered! Sorry for being a bombastic shrew.

XOX,

Q

***

Dear BS,

You are the best, even when you are not knocking on doors when you should be, relieving me from my watch over The Tiny Curly Banshee and The Shushinator. Thank you for celebrating my birthday with me on multiple occasions this weekend, and taking me out for sushi and – sigh – MORRISSEY!!!!, all in the same night. Thank you for making the absurdly long drive out to the music venue, located in the middle of a retirement community for some reason, and not making too many jokes related to the fact that this is the same place that Perry Como used to play. And thank you for enjoying the show with me. You didn't even flinch when Morrissey ripped his shirt off – the first time OR the second time – even though you probably thought I liked it a little more than I should have. I like the way you asked me if I was excited about the show over dinner, and told me that you were too, and that you were going to call him morbid and pale. You reminded me that my birthday isn't so bad, and that I probably owe it an apology.

Be seeing you, and I mean this in a good way,

Q

***

Dear Local Newspapers,

I've been thinking about this, and I've made my decision. I hate you, and I hate your ass face.

Until we meet again,

Q

***
Dear Birthday,

Why do we always do this? Will we ever learn? I want you to know that I still enjoy you, despite our recurring scuffles. Thanks to you I had an intoxicated gathering with friends, had sushi with a badass BS, saw Morrissey rip his shirt off – not once, but TWICE! – and had many lovely moments with my wee-uns. All this, and I got to learn yet another amazing fact about the BS. You know how he's always surprising us with tales that we are shocked he never told us before? Like the time he offhandedly mentioned that Alice Cooper used to come into a restaurant he worked at and once left him a handwritten note commending his service, but that he couldn't remember the actual content of this note? And we were all, WHAT THE HELL? YOU CAN'T REMEMBER THE CONTENT OF THE NOTE ALICE COOPER ONCE WROTE YOU??? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? and we may have actually said it in a really loud voice like that? Well, he told me another one of those little tidbits. Remember how he used to have those jobs back when he was merely a BS, and not yet a Dr. BS? And one of them involved using his badass karate know-how and bald, goateed intimidation skills to prevent local frat boys from picking fights with men based on their sexual orientation? You know, at that store? On the way home from the Morrissey show a Judas Priest song came on the radio, and Dr. BS mentioned totally offhandedly how a member of Judas Priest (the one usually standing in the middle, in the front) used to come in to this establishment on a very regular basis, and it was not necessarily just to buy books. WHAT???? I said to him. How is it possible that you are JUST NOW mentioning this to me??????? And he was all, "Well, I haven't thought of Judas Priest in, like, ten years." See? He's just so full of surprises! Anyway, sorry for being a snatch about that whole year-older thing.

OOO,

Q

***
Ah. That feels good.