I'm frequently criticized for a disorder known as Compulsive Neatness (I have an aversion to sand, layers of dust, and eyebrows that aren't finely pointed arches.) So, when my car got side swiped by a giant Partridge-style school bus on it's way to Burning Man yesterday, my world was traumatized in more ways than one.

The Story: I'm driving down a narrow street and a giant painted school bus is coming at me. I can't back up without hitting traffic, so I stop and hit the horn. The bus keeps coming at me like a bad dream until IT HITS MY CAR! A guy who looks about 25 with no shirt on comes out and shows me something that looks like a car insurance expiration notice. OK, so he's kind of cute in a Burning Man kind of way (but that's no excuse...). I'm in a trauma state, so I can't be entirely responsible for what passes through the mind. That is until my Burning Man Side Swiper Friend pulled out his "documentation." Not so cute. What did I do to deserve this? Where's my mom?!

The Deal: First of all, there's the old resentment towards wannabe hippies that I've had since my early years in Berkeley, California. There's nothing funny about peace, love, and understanding, so long as you have car insurance. Secondly, until my insurance gets it's act together, I have to look at my poor, injured, helpless car in it's sad state and that's VERY HARD for someone who has Compulsive Neatness (yes, I do ask people who come into my apartment to take off their shoes and that's annoying even to me).

Now, it is true that my bumper was due for some body work. I do a lot of parallel parking and some days my spatial senses function better than others (hey, that's why they call them "bumpers"!). But still...looking at the damage is a kind of torture.

Just for today, I have car sadness (although I'm grateful I didn't get hurt).

Have you met anyone who listens to this music? Chances are he or she is a pretty upbeat person (I've seen it). So, what if it's kind of the emotional equivalent of sprinkling Splenda all over your life, it's still better red vines.

Just for today, I can contemplate alternatives to my red vine addiction.

Have you met anyone who listens to this music? Chances are he or she is a pretty upbeat person (I've seen it). So, what if it's kind of the emotional equivalent of sprinkling Splenda all over your life, it's still better red vines.

Just for today, I can contemplate alternatives to my red vine addiction.

One of my oldest friends came in to town on Friday night. We ate Vietnamese food, drank Jamaican beer (Horay, Red Stripe!), and talked up a storm. After a couple of martinis we came back to my place and pulled out the photo albums. The memories span from 8th grade through senior year in college. Certain friends simply aren't allowed to depart from your life. How else would I remember the nightmare 8th grade ski trip where she and I decided to ski through a snow storm that had driven everyone inside. At one point, my ski fell off and she trekked down the slope to get it (thank you!). On the bus ride home (who drives a school bus to a mountains?...besides my junior high school?), it rained inside due to the condensation two of our friends sang "S.O.S." by The Police until we all yelled at them to stop because we were all so cold, wet, and tired. It was a sucky ski trip. But a great memory to have with an old friend.

Just for today, I can reminisce with old friends.

I somehow got talked into signing up for Match.com. Despite the fact that I would rather force feed myself undercooked kael, sleep in a mattress infested with bed bugs AND eye-biting spiders (my co-worker got bit in the eye by a spider, too! WHAT is up?!), while fighting a sinus infection (assuming I didn't know that hydrogen peroxide is the miracle cure), than participate in Internet dating....I signed up because I'm making a statement to the universe that "I'M WILLING!" So, despite the inherent creepiness of the outfit, I paid my $50 for a 3-month subscription and have proceeded to receive a scattering of "WINKS" from guys that maybe I would politely smile at if I were standing at the condiments counter at Starbuck's and they were waiting for the half-n-half that I was hoggging. OK, there was ONE NICE GUY, who I spoke to over the phone (if you happen to be reading this...well, gee, this is awkward. You're really nice and all, I'm not sure we're a match, but you have been the shining star of the entire experience).

The point of all this is that I'm starting to believe that Match.com and all these other online dating services are seriously profiting from the dense population of lonely folk desperately hoping to ease their pain with another co-dependent soul. There's also the flattery factor. Put up your best picture, get a few winks, and who cares how bloated you're feeling? (it's the half-n-half). Just take a look at the messaging that goes along with the winks: "Jacksonian winked at you! Out of millions of members, he picked you!" First of all, I don't think there are millions of women between the ages of 27 to 35 within twenty miles of Jacksonian...so right there is an outright lie. Secondly, how do I know that he isn't winking at fifty women a day (or men?). All he's doing is hitting a button. (It's this kind of scrutiny that probably got me rejected by e-harmoney...).

Let's face it, there's nothing like "wink" from a 57-year-old retiree to fuel a depressive outlook on a 34-year-olds dating prospects [I know there are many women in their 30's interested in older men...I, however, am not one of them. Not that I would rule it out, but it's not exactly the "vision." BYB: I have one friend who likes dating older men because she feels like the "fresh" young thing. I prefer not to feel "fresh" or "stale," but ageless].

For now, I've closed down the profile and will take my chances in the real world (MySpace?). Is it too much to want such things as relevance and context in a potential date? As in, "I met you through BLANK, or while doing BLANK, or in BLANK class..."

Just for today, I can say no to Internet dating.

I'm looking for a good psychic, astrologer, numerologist and/or Tarot card reader, so if anyone has someone solid (just because you deal in the occult doesn't mean you can't be stable) you can recommend, I'm all ears (I can't believe I've gone this long without one...). I'm also looking for a good past-life analyst. Here I've been working so hard in therapy on my childhood issues, not realizing that maybe it's not all about THIS childhood (I won't get into my murderer from a past life...that's all in my screenplay). Hey, no condescending eye-ball rolling! (Unless you live in NY City), I'm in need of some serious irrational guidance.

Just for today, I can ask to get my needs met.

There's something about going long periods of time without that leads to compulsive acts of decluttering (wait...did I miss a noun somewhere? Oh, silly me. I forgot to write the word "sex,"...it's been so long, it's no longer in my immediate vocabulary). There are two things that I have bought enough of to last throughout the '00 decade and that is cleaning supplies (because God knows this is a dirty decade...what with global warming and all), and toiletries. Because I am a sound ecologist, I am determined to put it all to use. If that happens, I will utilize all of my ten spray bottles of disinfectant, my ten miniature bottles of Victoria Secret fruity lotions, my two bars of natural deoderants, my three bottles of hydrogen peroxide (because God knows that stuff is hard to find), my two jars of silver cleaner, my giant bottle of Oscar De La Renta perfume, my eight million emory boards (did I tell you about the lawyer boyfriend I had who defended an emory board company?), my four trillion q-tips, all of the random bottles of light perfume (Bath & Body works type of stuff), three cans of leather protector, two tubes of body glitter, and that jar of sea salt skin scrubber that I leaves a film on my bathtub...(isn't this fascinating?).

Just for today, I can declutter.

For many years I have wished for one thing that would bring me peace in my home...and that has been a foyer table. Today my dream came true. Life without a foyer table was frustrating and just plain bad feng shui. I would enter into my apartment with crap in hand (mail, keys, groceries) and either drop it on the floor or onto my bed (hey, did you know I live in a studio?) or race to the coffee table [SPECIAL BRACKET NOTE: In 1960 my aunt/godmother bought a coffee table for my grandmother made of wood and marble. After my parents got married, they somehow finegaled it from my grandmother (just kidding, mom...I know she "gave" it to you). This coffee table is imbued with memories of watching "The Muppet Show," "Love Boat," and "Fantasy Island," (in that order) and has been in my life as long I can remember. In 197? my father fell on it while doing a handstand (why was he doing a handstand by a coffee table?...I would like to know. Needless to say, he fell on it and cracked it in half. He eventually got it glued back together, but it has a large crack in it). In 2002, I moved into my sweet studio and inherited the coffee table...end of bracket story]

No sooner had I paid for the foyer table and walked out the door with Cute Cost Plus Guy who was carrying the table on a dolly, than I realized that I had made a grave mistake. $182 for a freakin' foyer table?! Have I gone insane?! I would have turned around right then and there, were it not for my fear of what Cute Cost Plus Guy would think...So, I drove out of the parking lot to an appointment I had and decided to come back to Cost Plus a few hours later. Flash forward to two hours later...I'm back in the Cost Plus parking lot with Cute Cost Plus Guy taking the foyer table out of my car (many apologies). However, once I'm standing at the counter waiting to get my money back, Mr. Manager Guy tells me that because I wrote a check I have to wait a few days to get my money back. I asked him if he could simply snake it out of the register and rip it up, but he responded no because it's "in the system." You call that a system?! Since I've long since learned that I can't fight "systems," I decided that God wants me to keep the foyer table (or at least see how it looks in my foyer) and so it was back out to my car with Cute Cost Plus Guy (his 3rd trip to my Honda Civic, for those of you who weren't keeping count).

I came home and put the damn thing together. It looks perfect. The foyer table has found a home. I, however, am dealing with shame of my irrational fear and anxiety around furniture.

Just for today, I accept my insanity around furniture.

I guess I'll have to just spew out the innards of my psyche in lew of my normally finely crafted blog (don't laugh). I know I've been very remiss regarding my blog lately. I've actually been having some health challenges that involve my female anotamy (which I won't get into because the thing that starts with a "P" that more than half the population of the world deal with on a monthly basis is considered "inappropriate" by the other part of the population - which is less than half - and I care far too much about what people think to be that much of a free spirit...for today).

ANYWAY... I've decided to take off my Married Man Magnet (actually, I didn't know I had it on). It's not that I'm interested in married men, but it just seems like there are a lot of very friendly married men Out There who take my time up at parties and other social gatherings (my therapist tells me that it's me who is playing "safe," but WHATEVER...I'm getting a little tired of her little "analysis" and what all..I mean, who does she think she is telling my my bidness?). Either way, the point is, married men are a GIANT waste of my time (did you hear that?). And if you're a married woman reading this and thinking "Why don't you get yo own damn husband?!" (except, minus the ghetto accent) I'll quote Jennifer Aniston (or the character she played) in "Friends With Money" (which was OK, except for this line) and say, "I would if I could!!" (cuz I'm not tryin' to steal yo man...!) I mean, I know I'm supposed to be married (or close to it) by now, but I'm missing the normal gene, or forgot to put it on my "To Do" list or something, but I'm working on it...Boy, I really need some sleep!

Just for today, I can spew forth into my blog.