Huh? What? Nyquil? And Shit That's Important...To Me Anyway

-This morning I went to work and not three minutes after arriving, my boss said, "Oh my God! What are you doing here? Go home. You're painful to look at!" Surprisingly, I couldn't have been happier to hear her say that. It's days like this that make me want to dry hump my couch. Or just lay on it. And watch Montel. Yeah. I'm all sick and shit. Still. Nyquil is the best thing ever.

-I was interviewed by Brian, a super nice journalist from Glamour magazine, back in October while I was vacationing in Jersey. He was writing an article about women's reproductive health and wanted to talk to someone who would have benefited from the availability of Emergency Contraception to prevent a pregnancy after rape. Before I agreed to an interview, I called Zube Boy to see if he'd be all cool with that. He said, "Of course, I've always wanted to be married to a Glamour Girl." I said, "Yeah, um, honey, it's not like they're going to do a photo shoot or anything. At the most, I'll get in, like, one quote." His response: "I know, but do it anyway. If it'll help other people, it'll help you, and that's all I care about." Have I ever mentioned how much he rocks with the support thing? Well, he does.

The article is supposed to be in the February issue. I'm kind of nervous because shortly after going public as a rape survivor, I learned that you never know exactly which quotes are going to be pulled from a twenty five minute conversation. I fret that they'll publish one thing I said, out of context, and it'll make me sound stupid. I don't know why I'm so worried about it. I mean, it's not like I'm being interviewed by Focus on the Family or some other crazy ass religous group who'd take great pleasure in contorting my words. Regardless, I won't really feel comfortable until I read the article. Anyone know when the February edition might come out? I'm not exactly an avid reader of Glamour, but I can't wait to get my hands on this issue.

-The ten year anniversary of the night I was raped is coming up on January 21st. TEN FUCKING YEARS! And here I am, still writing about it. Sometimes, on a really insecure day, I wonder if people who read my blog are thinking, "Goddamn, when will she fucking get over it already?"

Thing is, not that I'm over it, or ever will be, but I'm okay with it. I share because I want others to know that they can, and likely should, share, too. That's the only way to get it out. It's the reason I feel pretty damn okay most of the time. Every time I tell it, it's like I'm throwing a little piece of the shittiness away. People give me props for being strong, and while I appreciate that, I'd like to extend the accolades to folks who are going it alone. That's a bundle of shit to carry all by yourself. I know because I did it for awhile.

To anyone who has ever commented on my blog or e-mailed me to share your story, THANK YOU. My voice is emboldened by yours. I could never, ever do this all by myself. I hope you don't have to either.

-I love comedians who can't help but laugh at themselves. Not the ones who laugh just to emphasize the fact that what they're saying is supposed to be funny. The ones that are so fucking funny they can't help it and start giggling in the middle of their act.

-Zube Boy had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. I wanted to help him so I farted. Really loud. He got to work early. After calling me fucking disgusting, of course.