The Good Die Young

7:47pm- Find out that first love, the one I gave a high five to after losing our respective virginities, has passed away after 8 year battle with cancer. A little piece of heart dies with him, causing whole heart to fail. I’ll really miss you, Brian. You were such a wonderful person.

Other than that, pretty crappy day overall.

Sleep Tight

12:55pm- Take ½ Xanax on flight from Cleveland to Chicago and then a whole one on flight from Chicago to Oakland. Extra dosage causes me to pass out cold. Have that "fake wake" sensation over and over, but can’t propel self back into consciousness.

Other than that, pretty good day.

It's Not Heavy, Says My Father

10:43am- Am asked by 69 year old father to help carry heavy new chair up to bedroom. Start to remind him of recent and expensive chiropractic appointments, but remember that he is almost septuagenarian, while I am spry young thing. Lift with legs and take single step upstairs. Muscles seize. Chair falls back down upon me. Crushed.

8:31pm- Spend grueling day sitting in recliner going through all my papers, handouts, notebooks, files, folders and syllabi from school days gone by. Realize even I’M not interested in this crap. Toss everything except bag full of notes passed to me in high school, all just basically imploring me to stay cool. Don’t leave chair for 5 hours. Blood clot.

Other than that, pretty good day.

It's Greek To Me

4:15pm- Make visit to college sorority sister, husband and newish baby. Am asked to prepare hamburger meat for evening’s dinner. Raw meat traps self under nails awaiting transport to mouth where it can really do some damage.

8:18pm- Concerned that my drive to their house was through supposed bad neighborhood I failed to notice, friends direct me home via what I can only assume to be “white route.” Promptly get lost. Jumped by upper middle class business man in need of a thrill.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Trashed

11:14am- Previously asked by mother to make this the trip where I go through left-behind things and discard what is no longer important. Discover she has already thinned the herd considerably. Basically everything I would have cared about has been pre-tossed (tapes of college radio shows I DJ’d, all furniture old enough to be cool, books given to me by long-deceased grandfather). Luckily copious amounts of high school sweatshirts have been spared. Go into blind rage spinning and spewing venom, screaming at top of lungs. Parents have no choice but to taser me. Cardiac arrest. Boy don’t they feel guilty now.

12:05pm- Hang with mom and high school best friend at Goldie’s Deli, where I waitressed for a summer back in college. Order tabbouleh in honor of my first ever having it at this exact restaurant. Putting the lemon-saturated, parsley-based side dish to lips transports me back to simpler days. Body implodes. Humans not meant for time travel just yet.

8:02pm- 3rd degree colorectal burns. On whole, Ohio needs more fiber.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Cornucopia Of Gluttonous Behavior

6:05am- Take off for very, very, very early flight back to Cleveland to celebrate Thanksgiving with the folks. What a good headline it makes to have plane crash on major holiday. People are glued to their TV sets for weeks.

3:45pm- Arrive in Cleveland and am immediately whisked home to a table full of savory engorgements. OD on tryptophan.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Dared To Dream

1:12pm- Decide to “work from home” for afternoon, which is basically just cleverly disguised ploy to escape from boring beige office space. Get home and immediately fall asleep watching Tivo-ed Oprah’s. In my dreams, band of co-workers hunt me down and torch house while I slumber. And just like in “Nightmare on Elm St.,” if you die in your sleep, you die for real.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Bathed In Bacteria

10:03am- Time for another every-few-months houseclean. Am forced to confront the slimy sludge caught up in sink drain stopper. Try to shield skin from sludge with paper towel, but toxins seep in and do their worst. Blood squirts from eyes. Froth dribbles from lips. Boyfriend finds me lying on ground and rolls his eyes before discovering lack of pulse.

10:54am- In another moment of housecleaning discomfort, decide to tackle kitchen trashcan lid. As I scrub and scrape a befouled plastic lid, flip through mental rolodex of all things thrown out in past year. Conclusion: collective infection rate VERY high.

1:01pm- As treat for good job on house, boyfriend and I do caloric splurge at Joe’s Cable Car Restaurant for burger, fries and the most delicious of chocolate malts. Snarfing my shake with abandon, am victim of esophageal freeze.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Toga! Toga!

7:01pm- Invited to attend surprise 50th birthday party for boyfriend’s cousin. Oh yeah, and it’s toga-only. After getting into the mood shopping for attire, walk into party and quickly realize toga parties only fun when one knows other attendees at said party. Will self to dissipate in puff of smoke not 10 seconds after unsuccessfully scanning room for familiar faces.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Thirst Quencher

6:12pm- Defrost chicken, setting package on top of case of Diet Dr. Pepper in fridge. Package compromised sending cascade of raw chicken juice down over each and every can of pop. Even with a vigorous scrub, still manage to ingest enough poultry juice to down a cadre of legionnaires.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Watch Where You Walk

8:54am- Walking to work on Howard St. Hear the clip-clop, clip-clop of girl walking at similar pace right behind me. Creeped out, I begin to walk faster. She begins to walk faster. Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Whap! Fade to black.

5:32pm- An older gentleman with cane is attempting to exit the 9BX bus. Gaze over as he makes way ably down first step. Lose interest in his progress, then hear a noise. I look out. The old man is prone on the hard cement. Cane a-skittered. Grocery bags mish-mashed about his frame. He rocks side to side trying to upright himself, mouth shaped in an O of surprised humiliation. As it registers in my head to get off bus and help him, doors close unceremoniously and we drive away. Damned to hell.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Lard Ass

12:02pm- After a year of trusting my brokerage account to an Ameriprise advisor I met at a burger joint called Clown Alley, portfolio is as limp as a non-Vlasic pickle. As if living during Black Friday, decide to jump out office window in despair. Window only one story off ground. Am not making good decisions.

5:16pm- Take stick of butter out of fridge. Realizing it has been in there for over year, give it tentative sniff. Not smelling much offensive, dart tongue out to lick exposed end. Instant death.

Other than that, pretty good day.

You Are What You Eat

3:03pm- Standing in line at grocery checkout, am asked by clerk to identify mystery vegetable on conveyor belt. Before I can answer, clerk behind me shouts out, “That’s Anus!” My preference for calling it anise is overruled as I am subjected to E. coli exposure.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Excuse Me For Being Biodegradable

11:14am- The overwhelming throngs of nuevo-hippies at SF Green Festival cause me to rudely elbow way past demonstration for hemp-infused sports drink/alternative fuel source. Crowd becomes self-righteous. After bludgeoning me to pulp, am stuffed into compost bin for socially responsible waste removal.

5:23pm- Turn on TV to see commercial for "Edward Scissorhands, The Musical." Immediately put on pair of 3-D glasses and impale self on lead character’s razor sharp phalanges.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Over The Shoulder Boulder Holders

12:04pm- Having bought into Oprah’s claim that 8 out of 10 women are wearing wrong-sized bra, make trip to Nordstrom’s to get fitted by expert. Find out in fact I have been wearing RIGHT-sized bra all along. Due to buxom size, get suckered into buying underwire, which I already know bugs shit out of me. Wear pretty, new, overpriced bra to work. Punctured repeatedly throughout day by underwire, with one final, fatal Crocodile-Hunter type blow topping the cake.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Don't Rock This Way

10:23pm- Perform at event thrown by the nude-hose-and-button-down-oxford-wearing contingency of my old company. As if that’s not bad enough, witness man doing the “Cabbage Patch” to one of our songs. Make sacrificial stage dive knowing full well I will not be caught.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Mirror, Mirror Not In Fall

12:56pm- Go for easy hike to see Mirror Lake, which supposedly reflects the Washington Column and South Half Dome upon its placid surface. Discover that by fall, lake has thoroughly evaporated. Exhausted from trek and with head bowed down from disappointment, make easy prey for ravenous coyotes.

10:01pm- Attend gorgeous wedding for dear friend at Yosemite Chapel. Generous bride and groom then provide shuttles to reception at Ahwahnee Hotel at 5pm with drop off back at Yosemite Lodge, our place of inhabitance, at 10pm. In between it’s 5 straight hours of drinking from an open bar. Rack up about one blood alcohol point for every hour, and fail to factor in affects of altitude. Paramedics don’t even try to revive me.

Other than that, pretty good day.

No Such Thing As Routine Exam

9:06am- Sit patiently in waiting room at UCSF Mt. Zion Medical Center, ready to receive x-rays on my long-suffering back. Over the loudspeaker, a woman disrupts in the calmest of voices, “Code Blue, Operating Room, A Level. Code Blue, Operating Room, A Level.” I look up at the waiting room sign, which now curiously says: Operating Room, A Level. Team of doctors come rushing at me with defibrillator paddles. Before I know what’s happening, loudspeaker woman cuts in again, “Cancel Code Blue.” Doctors walk away shaking their heads with dispair at the unfairness of it all. How could this happen to someone so young? How?

5:02pm- Asked by receptionist of Yosemite Lodge in Yosemite National Park at check-in if I am ‘Bear Aware.’ I am not.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Thirst Quencher

8:53am- Drive car to work and am asked to squeeze diminutive Miata into tight spot. Challenged, I gear up to make turn only to see water bottle filled with urine right where tire must go. What to do? I can’t get out and TOUCH it! Having no choice, run it over while expertly gliding into spot. Sound of plastic giving way and spray of liquid contained inside provokes gag reflex. As I exit car, urine puddle seems to wink at me while awaiting descension of my foot. I try to hop across, but slip, fall and knock self out. Left to drown in 2 inch puddle of bum piss.

8:14pm- Pick up what I will never know to be most delicious Burmese tea salad I would have ever eaten from Yamo’s on 18th & Mission. While walking back to car with boyfriend, witness truck screeching away from a scene with gaggle of gang members chaotically running after it. Gun fire rings out. Boyfriend turns to see me and takeout bag lying on ground. He picks up bag, raises fist to sky and screams, “Noooooooooooooooo!”

Other than that, pretty good day.