You Know This Game [ 2004-07-26, 12:08 a.m. ]

I�ve never lived alone. It�s one of the few things I regret. I had great roommates, and then I lived with Kent. Now, seeing as how we did the whole �til death do us part� thing, I don�t think I�ll get a chance to have a bachelorette pad of my own. Instead, I take special enjoyment in the few nights that Kent is away. I can eat Cheerios for dinner and watch all the Buffy episodes I want, then wake up in the morning secure in the knowledge that my kitchen is clean and no wet towels are anywhere near the floor.

I�ve never been to Italy, Spain, England, Japan, Morocco, Belize, Brazil, Russia, Portugal, New Zealand or countless other places I dream of visiting. My lack of travel experience is embarrassing, and it pains me that I have just two measly stamps in my passport. And that I got my passport only four years ago. I wanna see the world, cities and mountains and all that jazz. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna.

I never learned to speak another language. Six years of French class for naught. Je ne parle anything. Je hated French class and learned nothing other than how to kinda, sorta read really basic French.

I never cheated on anyone with whom I was in a relationship. Not that I ever wanted to, I�m just pointing out that it�s something I�ve never done. I have had inappropriate relationships with men (boys) who had girlfriends. Well, one had a wife. I never crossed The Line with him, but our friendship came to an abrupt end when we both realized how fucked up things had become. But that�s all ancient history.

I�ve never had a cavity. Or needed glasses. Or braces. I desperately want glasses, though, to the point that I used to wear a pair of cute pre-fab reading glasses at work, claiming I needed them when I was doing a lot of computer work. Except that when I wore them, I really, really couldn�t see. Really.

I never learned how to ski. I�ve been skiing, several (well, three or four) times, and I�ve done the snow-plow thing a bunch. But I never really learned how to actually ski. Most of my friends ski, my family skis, everyone skis. So I talk as if I do too, and simply never seem to be available for ski trips.

(Ditto for water skiing)

I never took P.E. classes in junior high or high school. I was a swimmer, on a year-round team which required ungodly amounts of practice time, so somehow I was able to get an exemption from P.E., forever. The idea was to give me an additional study period, but in reality, I spent most of my study halls writing notes to friends and folding them into intricate little star shapes with one corner bearing a �Pull Here� arrow.

I never learned how to play softball, volleyball, badminton, basketball, tennis, etc. See above.

I never partied in high school. Or studied. Or dated. I�m not sure how I filled my time, except to reiterate that swimming required an ungodly amount of practice time. And also, to point out that I was really, really shy, 5�9�, super skinny, and didn�t get breasts until college.

I�ve never been a bridesmaid before. When I was a kid, I wanted so, so (SO) badly to be a flower girl, but no dice. I �carried� the guest book at a family wedding when I was about eight, but come on�it was nothing like being a flower girl! No bouquet, for starters, no photos. The only wedding I�ve ever been in is my own. EXCEPT! Except that my friend Pastry recently got engaged, and last night she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, and I literally could not sleep last night, I was so excited. I�m thrilled, and my joy is currently overshadowing the fact that I would have loved to be a bridesmaid back when I was SINGLE, and therefore eligible to fully reap the benefits of being so near the center of attention.

I never called my mother-in-law after my birthday to personally thank her for the gift she sent me, even though Kent asked me to CALL HER DIRECTLY and thank her for the gift. I promptly sent a tasteful and thoughtful thank-you card. I appreciated the gift silently, in our apartment. But I did not call her.

I never thought I�d be married to someone who was once a registered Republican. Or someone who didn�t know what �biscotti,� �risotto,�or � bouillabaisse� were when I met him. Or who worked so damn hard at everything he does. Or who was MTV�s bitch, which my husband totally is. Viva the wha? I say. Viva La Bam, he sighs, rolling his eyes at me, Now come listen to Modest Mouse. Uhhhh�? I say.

I never thought I would be nearing 30 and have not a clue what career I wanted. (SHUT UP WITH THE WHINING ALREADY!) I can�t even imagine an industry, let alone a specific job, that is right for me. I certainly did not anticipate this. I assumed graduate degrees and clear career paths lay in my future. Fool.

I never thought I�d have an online journal. For many, many reasons.

I never fooled around with a girl.

Or two guys at once.

Or a guy who was Baaaaaddddd.

I never tried to do a flip off of the high dive.

I never learned how to do a cartwheel, the Electric Slide, or the Hustle.

I�ve never done a Karaoke song all by myself.

I�ve never seen myself on camera. Freshman year of college I took a Speech class, and part of the required coursework was to watch the video of our weekly oral assignments and write a critique. I faked them all semester long, because I was so uncomfortable with the idea of seeing myself on camera.

I�ve never finished the Sunday crossword puzzle in the Times.

I never went to third grade. I skipped it, on account of a brief period of soaring brilliance which peaked around age 12, then dipped at 13 when I became self-conscious about being smart, and instead started acting "dumb" because I thought getting C's was cooler than getting A's and I really, really wanted the boys to like me. The plan, not surprisingly, failed in many, many ways,

I�ve never tried any drugs other than weed and �shrooms.

I�ve never been pulled over for speeding, never arrested, never had any sort of interaction with any police officers.

I�ve never bothered to learn HTML and make this site pretty (or at least, somewhat more sophisticated) like I planned to do last year.

I never know how to end my entries.

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