Temerity Jane

PHIL LOVES OPRAH

Not really. I was just testing my hand at writing sensationalist headlines because I’m thinking about starting a new career as someone who makes up sensationalist headlines for news stories.

“SWINE FLU ON THE MARCH. WELCOME YOUR OINKY OVERLORDS.”

“JON & KATE +… ALF? NEW GENETIC MATERIAL AVAILABLE FROM MELMAC.”

“WHY YOU NEED TO GATHER ALL YOUR SHOES AND LOCK THEM IN THE CLOSET… NOW!!”

Anyway, now that this site has some history under its belt, once a week or so I include it with my old blogs when I take a look back to see what I was doing at this time last year, 2 years ago, all the way back to 2001.

For example, two years ago today was right around when Phil started noticing my existence (though I would refuse to acknowledge his for quite some time more). On this day two years ago, I was right in the middle of the Wintersaber Challenge that some of you may remember, thus was very busy, and only posted a picture that day:

(My toons are named Shaynin, Owenmeanee, Laillia and Zalyn, just FY-stinking-I.)

Now, one year ago today was a decent bit over a year since Phil started clamoring for my attention, and I wrote about my commute to work, a post that remains one of my favorite posts on this whole site:

I’m less than 10 miles from work at this point, still full of bagel but now my half gallon of coffee is on the inside of me keeping the bagel company, listening to my second round of Julia Nunes and trapped behind a woman who OBVIOUSLY WANTS ME TO DIE. She was going so slowly that there was no way for me to pull into the lane on either side without getting myself squished, because I don’t know if you know this – I mean, I thought everyone knew this, but obviously not since this woman EXISTS – but you cannot merge into another lane going FORTY on the BELTWAY.

Eventually, though, shortly before my exit and probably mere moments before that semi ended up sitting in my passenger seat asking if I had any more bagels, I saw my opening, slid to the left, hit the gas til I could hear the hamsters that power my car shrieking in protest, and passed her. I pulled right back in front of her, into the SIXTY SEVEN MILES of open highway before her.

Now, at that point, not only was I with Phil, but also worried that I was knocked up (I wasn’t, there’s no secret babies around here), so you can see that things made quite a drastic change in the space of a year. Even drastic-er in another year, really, if you consider that fact that today, a year after imagining that I had caught my own pants on fire on the highway, I am moved completely across the country and engaged.

Which brings me to my point – PHIL LOVES OPRAH.

(Not really, I am being sensationalist again.)

What I mean is, PHIL OBVIOUSLY BELIEVES IN MONKEY CRAP LIKE “THE SECRET.”

(Am I getting better at this yet?)

(No?)

(Ok, I’ll get to the point.)

So, two years ago today, I was sitting on my bed grinding Wintersaber rep and talking about bionic robot finger pilot programs, and Phil had only recently started sending me emails that I would spend roughly a year ignoring. Up until now, I’ve regarded the fact that Phil and I are together in terms of the idea that he did a little online shopping.

He found my blog, read it over, decided he’d like one of those, and set about ordering it from the Internet. The bribery he needed to use initially to get me to date him can be seen as a sort of credit card payment, while the cost (both financially and mentally) of driving me across the country to live here can be considered shipping charges, in a way. And all the diet soda I require? Maintenance and upkeep. So, you see, it’s just like he bought me online.

However, I was thinking the other day, how some people who are in to monkey crap stuff like “The Secret” could indeed say that Phil (ok, I totally don’t know how The Secret actually works, I assume it’s some kind of secret, but I think I have the gist) put it out to the universe and manifested his own desires or something else like that.

That is, he saw something, decided he wanted it enough, and it eventually landed (likely with an uncomfortable thud and demand to be taken to  Cold Stone) in his lap.

I do not know which idea makes me feel more uncomfortable – the fact that I can be easily ordered online, or the idea that PHIL CAN MAKE THINGS HAPPEN WITH HIS MIND.

“PHIL CAN MAKE THINGS HAPPEN WITH HIS MIND!!”

(Still no good? Up yours.)