Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Let Me Clear My Throat

"There was this man. He would never talk. He'd just sit there all night.
They say to him, 'What's the matter? Don't you say anything?'
He says, 'What am I going to say, that my wife two-times me?'
So she says, 'Shut up! You're always talking!'"
                                                -- Goodfellas

Today when I was leaving planning, a teacher a little bit down the hall waved and, like a civilized human being, said, "How are you doing?"


My husband, who went on a date last night, has a profile on OK Cupid soliciting long-term dating, short-term dating, and casual sex; I haven't slept more than twelve hours, total, in the past three nights; last night I learned that a woman who I thought was a friend, a woman who I had a great deal of respect and admiration for, who I believed to be one of the most genuine, most amiable people I'd ever met and who, in some ways, I aspired to be like, actually loathes me and has spent a good portion of the last few months writing back and forth to my husband talking up my flaws, offering to take pictures of him for his OK Cupid account, mentally cheering on people who belittle and insult me publicly, and basically saying things someone should never have to find out that a person--especially a person who's been posing as a friend--thinks about her (you're a gentleman and a scholar, Heather Baird, and even though I know you won't be reading this--you know, because I have to keep starting new blogs since once people read my blog for long enough, they catch on to how full of shit I am and can't stand me, forcing me to find new readers--thank you so much for reaffirming my faith in the goodness of people. Well done); as I learned that this woman pretty much has the same feelings for me that most people have for, say, Snooki or Anna Nicole Smith, I also learned that she and my husband came to the conclusion that I'm afflicted by Histrionic Personality Disorder, which pretty much means I'm nothing more than an attention-seeking, manipulative, shallow slut who's so provocative, she can't even keep female friends; I have to fill out financial papers and child-sharing papers and agree on things with a husband who doesn't think there's any reason to speak to me; I dropped my entire lunch on the linoleum floor in the 240 corridor, leaving myself not only lunchless but also in roasted-vegetable-tamale-splattered pants; and when a student tried to give me a hug, I started crying in the middle of class and couldn't stop.

"Fine," I answered. "And you?"


  1. I really miss you, Ms. McIntyre! Just hold your head up, I know you're strong. You'll get through this.

  2. Hey just reach for the stars. I know you most likely don't want to hear my advice but I have to say your really one of the strongest willed persons I know.