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Your concerns about whether or not I’m dead are cute. And only slightly concerning.

June 16, 2010

I suffered immense blog anxiety for not managing to get my shit together to write a proper post before leaving for vacation to Virginia.

I didn’t want to just go AWOL from the interweb, because then you guys would be left wondering whether I’d fallen prey to my stalker. Or I’d choked to death on a blueberry, which seems like an innocent and wholesome fruit but probably just the right size to get lodged in my windpipe when I’m alone in my apartment – and let’s face it, I’m home alone *a lot* so death and Jehovah’s Witnesses are always knocking on my door – and then my cats Isabel and Teva would be orphaned and fending for themselves, but definitely not feeding off my decaying corpse because I dish out extra food every day in case this macabre death-by-produce scenario ever unfolds. Or I’d abruptly abandoned this site after proposing marriage during Date 3 to Katie, who is skittish about new relationships and wants to go slowly, and even joking about marriage here is probably not at all wise, and she’s likely deleting any trace of me from her phone as she reads this, and I don’t know why I’m still typing but I can’t seem to stop because this sentence is strangely engaging, and also I should probably make more of an effort from here on out to not use any variation of the words “marry” or “engage” in the same clause as “Katie.”

But then I thought, That’s silly. You’re being melodramatic. No one will think you’ve gotten married or died.

As it turns out, I was wrong. Or, in fairness to myself and in true-blue Massachusetts-Democrat style, I was right before I was wrong.  

After belatedly informing Twitter that I was on the road again, Jam responded, “Vacation! Thank goodness. I was starting to think you were dead. Or had abandoned us.” But that was nothing compared to the e-mail I received from my British bloggy buddy Jo and the Novelist fearing the worst from my apparently deafening silence:

This morning I woke up excessively early, made coffee, booted up my PC and opened Tweetdeck and I was all “Morning Tweeters” the way I do every Tuesday and you were not there to tell me to drink tea or buy grapes. And then I panicked.

As a blog-whore/future apocalypse buddy I thought that maybe I should check that you are, in fact, okay. And then I can stop panicking.

Are you okay? I hope you are okay and are not dead. If you are dead, then this email is going to seem like I’m really insensitive – which is in no way true. I’m practically made entirely from marshmallow.

Okay, I’m going to go now – because this email is making me sound weirder than I actually am, and I really thought that this was a good idea when I started and now, hmmm, not so much.

Jo Xx

PS It’s been suggested that I occasionally get a little paranoid, especially if I’m also tired, in which case this is a whole load of crazy nose-diving into your inbox. I’m sorry.

If I prematurely ascend to that big kitten colony in the sky, or if you’re simply in the hunt for a new blogger whose possible death to ponder, you should check out Jo’s blog. She’s damn funny, unflinching in her insistence that I look like Tina Fey despite repeated rebuttals and she’s English and gulps tea by the gallon, which probably bodes well for her immunity and longevity. Also, she doesn’t judge me for thinking the tepid drink tastes like lawn. Or she keeps the judgment to herself. Either way, she’s a sweetheart. And if one of us is going to cheat death, it’ll be her on account of the tea, and I’ve learned that’s apparently what readers what in a blogger. Aliveness.

However, although I appreciate the grave concerns – and they only slightly creeped me out in an every-breath-you-take sort of way – I hope this post serves as proof to Jo, Jam and others whose names may or may not start with J that I’ve returned from vacation and am, in fact, alive despite my aversion to tea. And definitely not married. And actually, I hear from several reliable sources that marriage is a leading cause of death. Or it leads to longing for death. And I don’t want to die. I mean, we’re all going to die. Someday. Also, that’s not to say a marriage to Katie would be the death of me. She’s a stimulating synthesis of silly, snarky, smart and stunning and likely would make a super spouse.

Anyway, as I was saying, I’m not dead yet. Nor seeking to scare off easily spooked Katie, whom I’ve only known for a month. So I definitely shouldn’t talk about wanting to marry her.


24 Comments leave one →
  1. June 16, 2010 5:39 PM

    Well, now I’M relieved. Not that I thought you had died of blueberry related asphyxiation, because I’m not really that creative in my doom scenarios.
    Still. Well done, you, for the not deadness.

  2. June 16, 2010 5:44 PM

    i just thought Date 3 went extremely well. i’m optimistic like that. in fact, when i disappear for more than a few days? that’s usually what’s going on… my children know that if i’ve recently put up a post? it’s reasonably safe to come home unannounced.

  3. June 16, 2010 5:46 PM

    Whew. I thought you had blocked me. Or something Mean Girl-ish [I mean, c’mon, Tina Fey, COME ON!].

    Glad to know you are o.k. and that you haven’t blocked me.

    Unless you block or delete this. And then I’ll be sad.

    I hate being sad. It makes me angry.

    You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

    Done now.

  4. June 16, 2010 5:52 PM

    Glad you are back! And I have also heard that marriage leads to a longer life. I haven’t heard that about living alone with cats. The other plus to being married is that you have someone to give you the heimlich maneuver in case you choke on a blueberry. 🙂

  5. June 16, 2010 6:27 PM

    This post made me gush too much – and my neuroses is going into OVERDRIVE and all the little voices are saying “but what if people visit your blog after reading this and think it’s shit and you get fired from the internet, and then everyone will turn on alone…with cats for suggesting you and then *she* will get fired from the internet. IT WILL BE ALL YOUR FAULT JO – Can you deal with that, can you?”

    Which reminds me, you shouldn’t drink tea for the *taste*. It’s just a habit you need to acquire for comfort. And for the caffeine.

    Thanks for the mention. I’m not worthy!!

  6. June 16, 2010 7:21 PM

    Too late. We ran your obituary on Monday. Cause of death was listed as “hairballs.”

    This is a very high-end rebound post. Especially considering that you were dead ‘n’ so forth. “Lawn” will live on after your passing, which means from here on out, I suppose. And the blueberry bit was ‘cherry,’ I think the term is. I’m more afraid of heimliching on a cheerio or one of my kid’s gummy root beer bottles, which are really disgusting by the way. a blueberry would have dignity, at least. And sweeten your death breath. We are all exultant to have you back but word to the wise … give Katie a minimum 2-postings breather. Also, your resemblance to Tina Fey would be described as “fleeting” by even the most Fey-obsessed, of which I am one of them who are so obsessed (pls fix that sentence). I fell in love with Tina Fey after she made a joke about whale vaginas. The point was I think that they are quite large, but really the point was “holy fucking bejeezus … i have never until this moment even thought of a whale vagina so now it’s all I can think about.” (There is a taxidermified whale penis on display in the men’s room of the Explorer’s Club in NYC, if anyone wants to know more. and admit it: you’re google-imaging ‘whale penis’ in 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 …)

    umm, i have more to say — a charming dog story or two; but really what I want to say is that my life without your blog was as bleak as a pre-WWI Scandinavian novel. So cut out the vacations. Also I am now humming ‘tiny dancer’ all day fucking long, damn you to hell.

    love, Seb.

    ps: Q. what is funnier, a great dane in a pinstriped suit or an owl with a monocle?
    A. a whale penis is much funnier.

  7. June 16, 2010 9:03 PM

    Listen, I get vacation and all but FREAKING RURAL VIRGINIA? Seriously? I mean, here I am in Boston and AT YOUR FINGERTIPS and you’re all, you know what would be great KIT? How about I leave you for a place where the shortened form of YOU is you all, shortened to y’all. Is that ANY PLACE for a newspaper person???
    I’m hurt and offended (but am still quite glad that you’re not lying dead in your apartment with a blueberry lodged in your windpipe.)

  8. June 16, 2010 9:34 PM

    Listen, it’s not my fault that every time someone in my life goes all MIA it means THEY’RE DEAD.

    Ok, maybe not ALL of the time.

    But most of the time? DEAD.


  9. June 16, 2010 10:14 PM

    The summer heat in Virginia COULD killed you. You should find another vacation spot asap.

  10. June 16, 2010 10:33 PM

    Im glad to see that you are back and alive.. as opposed to back and posting as a zombie.

    Count yourself lucky if your kitties wouldn’t dine on your corpse.
    These 3 bitches of mine start sniffy for a spot to bite into if I sleep in one position for too long.

  11. June 16, 2010 11:36 PM

    Ok, yes, glad you’re not dead and all. Although I didn’t think you were dead, I thought you were distracted. By things more interesting than blogging. What? I don’t know. Shredded wheat. In a museum. With John Oliver.

    But anyway…

    When I read the blog, the categories caught my eye. Especially the “tipping” one, because I’ve been thinking about tipping lately and wondering why we have to tip 18% now to make up for the increased cost of living, which doesn’t make any sense because restaurant food got more expensive too, didn’t it? And then I started thinking about how I wasn’t making the “tipping” connection in the blog, and I wondered what subtle language I had missed and how I hate when I miss those sorts of things (I mean really, I spent an entire lit class thinking a “‘pacing steed” was a horse) so I read the entire entry through AGAIN and STILL could find the obscure tipping reference that I KNOW everyone is getting but me.

    Until I got to the end and realized it said “tripping.”

    So now I wonder if by tripping you mean travelling, or the way by which a blueberry would have gotten lodged in your windpipe.

  12. June 17, 2010 12:14 AM

    you’re alive! you’re alive!
    Katie- don’t delete this woman. She’s funny and hot and has cats. And can fend off Jehovah’s witnesses. How many witnesses did this Jehovah guy have? And why are they not allowed to jump on trampolines?

  13. June 17, 2010 1:09 AM

    Did you have a good vacation at least?

  14. June 17, 2010 7:42 AM

    Good to have you back, but I require more proof of your not-deadness. I’d prefer a sworn statement (notarised by Teva, of course) that you have not turned into a zombie. The fact that Boston is reputed to be home to some of the finest Brain Bistros on the east coast does not help your case.

  15. tonya@adhocmom permalink
    June 17, 2010 9:32 AM

    So glad you’re back!! I did not actually think you were dead. I thought perhaps you were lazy or on some sort of heroin binge but, hey, I’m an optimist like that.
    Hope you had a nice vacation and are now off the smack. Can’t wait read about it!!

  16. June 17, 2010 8:23 PM

    Send her this, and see how she does with it.

    You’ll be testing the waters, see?

  17. June 17, 2010 9:30 PM

    So glad you didn’t die. I just started reading you, and if you were suddenly dead? Talk about a bad investment of time, right? Also, dead’s bad.

    Yay ALIVE!

  18. Carolspy permalink
    June 17, 2010 10:26 PM

    Did you hear about the guy who got his arm stuck in his own radiator and had to chop it off because nobody — not even his FIANCE — noticed he was missing? You, that wouldn’t happen to.

  19. June 17, 2010 11:28 PM

    So I clicked on your blog and was like, “nope, no new post, bummer” – then I realized that last time, I read the beginning and thought I’d read it before but then just realized I’d followed the story on Twitter, then was clearly distracted by something shiny, though probably not of the vampire variety, and didn’t finish reading/accidentally closed the window. So I finally got to read it through to the finish, which is awesome, both b/c I love that girl, who, in fact, I love so much that I’m going to try and learn her name, which is a huge step for me, as I don’t even remember the names of people I know in real life, and I get visual reminders with them and everything.

    Also, I’m now forever going to visualize you as Tina Fey. Unless one day you post a photo, and then I’ll visualize you as yourself. Unless you are Tina Fey. Well, I mean, I’ll still visualize you as yourself, but it’ll also still be Tina Fey. And I accidentally just typed Tiny Fey before fixing it, which would be a very, very different comedic persona.

    On a somewhat-related-nobody-cares-but-I’m-up-late-writing-comments-and-you-can-just-stop-reading-whenever-you-like note, Erica from Mommy’s Still Fabulous constantly compares me to Liz Lemon. And at first I was flattered, but then I thought about it and realized that Tina Fey is hilarious and awesome and Liz Lemon is a woman incapable of getting through a day without humiliating herself, and that people don’t laugh with her so much as at her. Then I realized that’s a perfect representation and was once more flattered.

    I mean, as long as people get me.

  20. June 18, 2010 9:41 AM

    I’m glad you aren’t dead because that would totally f-up the week for both of us and the cats. Glad your vacation was good. Off to read Jo and see if the stress is getting to her yet.

  21. June 18, 2010 8:01 PM

    Sounds like you were in rural Virginia while I was in rural North Cackalack.

    And we BOTH failed at blogging before bailing.


  22. June 20, 2010 11:11 AM

    I love that you put out extra food for your cats, “just in case”. hahahaha. Glad you’re a live and kicking missy!

  23. June 22, 2010 4:03 PM

    Henceforth abandoning you for Jo. Because I just can’t survive that kind of pain again.

    And if I’m merely echoing somebody else’s sentiment here, sorry — I didn’t have time to read through all the comments. I am a great blog friend to have.

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