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They might be giants

August 24, 2011

You might not be able to tell from my writing, but I’m super short.

Short-sighted? Not gonna argue with you. Short-lived? Sure, most of my sexationships are. Short-circuited? You betcha. *makes finger-gun* *clucks tongue* *squints to see Russia from my house*

While my innumerable and embarrassing shortcomings become increasingly apparent to total strangers the more I blog, it’s probably not as easy to get a handle on my height just by reading. So let me give you a helpful visual that I think will aid in your understanding. You know the beautiful beanstalk that is Uma Thurman? Good. I look *absolutely* nothing like her. Your disappointment is palpable.

The long and short of my height is that there’s no long. As per usual when it comes to my failings, I blame my Hobbit of a mother. Even on tippy toes, I can’t touch the top shelf at the grocery store. For all I know, that’s where the vitamins are kept that make your legs grow, and it’s all just a Catch-22 to keep me down. And I’ve never cleaned the ceiling fan in my bedroom, which is thickly caked with an ashen combination of cat fur and dust, because I can’t be bothered reach it. And there are certain light bulbs in my apartment that I consider to be irreplaceable. “Irreplaceable” in the sense that they will never be replaced by me. You know the saying “it’s always darkest before dawn”? That’s pretty much my motto. Unless my next girlfriend’s name isn’t Dawn. Then I hope Aurora, Sunrise and Morn are still single.

I’m never more aware of how vertically challenged I am than when I spend time with my dear friend Carol, whom I met in college. Clocking in at an even 6 feet tall, she has a solid 10 inches on me. We may both lean wildly left in our politics, judge people for sport and firmly believe avocado should be eaten at every meal, but in our 10 years of friendship, we’ve never actually seen eye-to-eye, just eye-to-boob. Lucky for me, she’s got really nice knockers.

Carol is head and shoulders above me at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Despite the fact that Carol is catless on account of allergies, she is long and lean and everything I wish I could be. I always feel as though I’m living in her shadow. In part because she’s quickly climbing up the corporate ladder. And because she resides in a trendy neighborhood in sunny San Diego. And because she’s married to her high school sweetheart, Chad. And also because I am literally living in Carol’s shadow.

A rare solar eclipse in La Jolla, California.

While I was spending a week on the West Coast with Carol and Chad earlier this summer, two pornographic pictures mysteriously appeared on the iMac in the room of their apartment Carol refers to as the Man Cave — the one space where Chad is permitted to exercise creative decorative control (think: gargoyles, Tim Burton tchotchkes and industrial music posters). This, coincidentally, was where I was bedding down and granted unlimited access to the internet. Upon noticing the two jpegs of a fair-skinned naked lady with jugs so massive and perky they couldn’t possibly occur in nature standing in a snowscape sporting only a strategically placed skimpy scarf and hat, Carol was left to ponder who downloaded the smutty snapshots: her partner of 15 years or the lesbian out-of-towner. It was truly anyone’s guess.

The accused at the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles.

It didn’t take long before Chad confessed as an accomplice to the crime. “My stepdad keeps sending me this stuff,” he said with a shrug before pulling out his iPhone and scrolling through more evidence stacked against him — a handful of X-rated images courtesy of his pervy parent. Suddenly, we all wished the sex-starved gay guest had been the one with an insatiable thirst for sleaze.

Although it’s true that I could be wrongly accused of a raging appetite for porn back home 3,000 miles away, and I did email the salacious photos to myself for research purposes, it’s just not the same without Carol and Chad. But Carol won’t consider leaving Southern California, and I feel most at home in New England, and neither one of us cares to ever step foot in any of the 40-something flyover states between us. So we have to just settle for seeing each other every few years. Chad, however, is a wild card. Like me, he adores Carol, loves to snuggle small creatures, does his best sleeping during the daytime and is enamored of the city of Boston. That’s why Carol recently decreed I get custody of him when she dies. Something to look forward to.

I feel short-changed that Carol, Chad and I live so far apart. But you could probably tell that from my writing.

I fucking love this photo so much because it looks like I’m their child. Their *really* foul-mouthed child. They taught me so well.

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41 Comments leave one →
  1. August 24, 2011 2:34 AM

    What a cute family you all make!

  2. August 24, 2011 2:48 AM

    Custody is great, but is he spayed?

    I didn’t realize you were recently in San Diego. That explains why it’s been smelling like cat around here….

  3. August 24, 2011 3:06 AM

    I think the most brilliant way to get oneself off the hook is to say, here look at ALL THIS PORN my stepdad sent me. Because who would suspect the guy who shows you all the evidence. No one, that’s who. We’re all, oh man, you’re right, your stepdad is straight pervy.

  4. August 24, 2011 4:51 AM

    jealous of you for being in la jolla, its my favourite place in the world

  5. August 24, 2011 6:26 AM

    I too am a guilty owner of Tim Burton tchotchkes

  6. August 24, 2011 6:44 AM

    You are their beautiful, foul-mouthed baby.

    Good friend warm-fuzzies make me happy. And happy for you.

  7. August 24, 2011 7:16 AM

    You’re only FIVE FEET TALL??? You could totally ride around in my pocket! I will feed you M&M’s and you can be friends with Charlie Sheen, who also fits in my pocket!

    • August 24, 2011 12:30 PM

      I’m 5’2″. Have I done the math wrong? Math is like height; it eludes me.

      • August 25, 2011 7:22 AM

        yeah, ask another journalism major to do MATH. Are you nuts? Have you SEEN my checkbook? The word “some” is written in it! “How much money do you have?” “Some.”

  8. August 24, 2011 7:16 AM

    your mom is hot.

  9. DMama permalink
    August 24, 2011 8:19 AM

    Are you really only 5 feet tall? You seem taller to me…maybe it’s just the cat that’s always on your head.

  10. August 24, 2011 9:42 AM

    If you’re ever kidnapped and thrown in a trunk you’re going to have a serious space advantage.

    Dude, it’s like life’s handing you everything on a silver platter.

  11. August 24, 2011 9:46 AM

    I am five feet tall. One of my best friends is 6 feet. I secretly hate her for having the height I covet! For fun, I’ll add in the height of my twins–6’5″ and 6’4″. They joke that they are my body guards when we go places. It could be that I walk in front of them and snap orders to make people think that…

    “We may both lean wildly left in our politics, judge people for sport and firmly believe avocado should be eaten at every meal” I heartily believe these things also. Can I be in your family? I can be the shortest sister…

    xo Susie

  12. August 24, 2011 10:10 AM

    I’m not 6 feet, but I’m tall, and I’ve always wished to be short and petite. grass is always greener. plus, I need friends like that.

  13. August 24, 2011 10:16 AM

    I was actually just thinking about you yesterday … freaky, right? Also, you are so right. Since we are a lot alike, I foolishly assumed you were tall like me. I’m glad you cleared up this misconception. Two more things:

    1) My baby also thinks avocado should be eaten at every meal.
    2) There ARE vitamins on the top shelf. Get someone to boost you up there. Totally worth it.

    Good to know you are alive and well. 🙂

  14. August 24, 2011 10:32 AM

    I’m tall and it’s so overrated. Being cute and short is better. You can wear heels, I’ll always look like a giant in pictures!

  15. tonyavernooy@gmail.com permalink
    August 24, 2011 11:32 AM

    This is what I love about you. The element of twists and turns and surprises! The essay starts off about height but also includes porn, adult adoption, and spouse trading.

  16. August 24, 2011 2:41 PM

    I’m 5’2″ and make up for it with my complete bitchy attitude. People always think I’m taller. I learned this trick from Madonna.

  17. August 24, 2011 3:43 PM

    i’m a semi-giant. and i’m going to see they might be giants next month. coincidence?

  18. August 24, 2011 8:50 PM

    I LOVE that sculpture of the two beautiful denim-clad damsels in the Art Museum.

  19. Lori permalink
    August 25, 2011 2:54 AM

    Now I have “Particle Man” stuck in my head.

    And still resentful that SoCal won out.

  20. August 25, 2011 8:49 AM

    Aurora, Dawn and Morn ARE ALL SINGLE. And they’re working down at ‘the bar’ as ‘cocktail waitresses’ so you should definitely go ‘tip them’ and I bet they would totally ‘date you.’

  21. Carol permalink
    August 25, 2011 11:56 AM

    If we could guarantee a sarcastic, left-leaning, avocado-loving, nature-avoiding kid like you, we might actually consider reproducing! Alas, we’d probably end up with a god-loving cheerleader/football player who says things like “irregardless.” So I guess we’ll just keep you around… 🙂

  22. Carol permalink
    August 25, 2011 11:57 AM

    ALSO! We loved this post. And you. And we miss you. I really think you could make a life for yourself in San Diego…

  23. August 25, 2011 11:58 AM

    Chad sounds like the perfect pet. He’s practically a cat, but he can change those light bulbs for you.

    I pulled a canister of coffee off the top shelf of our break room cupboard yesterday by levering it against the wall with a spoon and rolling it off the shelf so I could catch it. The maintenance guy – who was sitting at the table reading our paper and probably could have reached it for me – was very impressed. That’s why humans invented tools, yo, so we can get coffee off ridiculously high shelves.

  24. Carol permalink
    August 25, 2011 11:59 AM

    I promise this is my last comment: I think it’s important to note that I was less concerned about the idea that either of you were looking at porn, and more concerned that one of you didn’t have the good manners to erase it from the desktop, so as to not embarrass the rest of us!

    I am totally okay with porn…so long as it is hidden like the shameful, dirty thing it is. 😉

  25. karoppi permalink
    August 25, 2011 10:00 PM

    Uma’s got nothing on you (besides height).

  26. August 25, 2011 11:33 PM

    You feel “short-changed” ah hahahaha, I get it! Look, I was a child of the 80’s (Oh, OK maybe I was a teenager of the 80’s) and I loved the big hair look. Maybe you could add a couple of inches that way?
    Um, don’t they do that in that show Jerseylicious, or Jerseyshore, or whatever it’s called? Or you could just move there? No?
    Oh, and while I’m no way near 6 foot, just 5’6”, I secretly covet being small and petite and short in my next life. . .along with having blonde curly hair. . . or just curly hair. . .

  27. August 26, 2011 4:31 PM

    Look at it this way, you get a lot more for your money when you go and get a massage because there is less “ground” to cover… I speak from experience, as a massage therapist I can tell you that when I am working on a long tall drink of water like Uma it takes longer to get the job done than when I have a shorter person on the table. This means I have more time for “detail” work. So there are certain advantages.

  28. August 26, 2011 7:13 PM

    Everything is so sunny and breezy in this pictures!!! Did you take them in the Bermuda Triangle of Happiness? Can I go to there?

    Dude, I feel you. I am 5’2″ and that’s all I GOT. And the funny thing is I feel tall but apparently that is just my OVERLOAD AND OVERZEALOUS PERSONALITY giving me 3-6 inches of EMOTIONAL height.

  29. August 28, 2011 5:29 PM

    I love your tall family. SO CUTE.

    PS I am also very, very short – so we have that in common, too. Although I do clean the ceiling fans. Mostly by making the husband actually physically clean the fans. But I come up with the project, so I’m taking that as a managerial win.

    XO

  30. August 29, 2011 11:09 AM

    I’m really short too and I agree that they are keeping the vitamins on the top shelves we cannot reach! 🙂

  31. August 29, 2011 12:37 PM

    I could totally tell you were short by your writing! It’s the way you cross your t’s (you know, lower than the average person.)

    We’re like twinsies!

  32. August 29, 2011 4:05 PM

    It does indeed suck to be short. I hate that I have to step ladder to reach anything in the kitchen. Luckily I have short dogs so they make me seem taller, lol.

  33. August 29, 2011 5:12 PM

    These photos are shopped, right? I mean, nobody’s that short…

  34. September 1, 2011 10:04 AM

    Also, you never have to think about what the top of your refrigerator looks like. On the other hand, tall people don’t worry about what’s under their bed.

  35. September 2, 2011 7:48 PM

    Where to start? I loved this post and although I am 5’9″ I don’t clean ceiling fans either. But I do love cats- more than I like most people but I’m not completely weird. I also know what it’s like to have all the people I most enjoy live in other parts of the country. It kind of sucks.

    Thanks for great- foul mouthed- writing, I’ll definitely be back!

  36. September 6, 2011 2:01 AM

    I’m so relieved to learn that I’m not the only person with irreplaceable light bulbs. I’m also 5’2″.

    I use a stepstool to get to the high shelves in my kitchen cabinets. The last time I did this, I left the stool in the kitchen, and my cat Holly, who’d never jumped onto the kitchen counters before, started using the stool to get onto the counter. I took the stool away, and she started jumping onto the counter from the floor — apparently she’d been able to do that all along, but it never occurred to her to try until she saw the stepstool. I’m pretty sure tall people don’t have these problems.

  37. September 7, 2011 9:40 AM

    In the photo of you and Chad at La Brea Tar Pits, I like the way his hand rests jauntily on your head – further corroborating your failings in the stature stakes.

    Just sayin’.

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