Dr. Strangemom

Dr. Strangemom
Birthday
December 31
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Thinking about shit and making up shit.

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Salon.com
DECEMBER 3, 2012 12:45PM

Stripping To My Socks

Rate: 2 Flag

re the winter Olympics coming soon? Or did we already have them? What with my grueling training schedule for Bedroom Sock Skating, I lose track of the year. Also, what with my day drinking and loose interpretation of Xanax dosage.

You wouldn't know it to look at me but I am an athlete. I am. I am an athlete wrapped in a snarky intellectual, covered in risk adverse nervous stomach, dipped in slothitude, smothered in brisket and rolled in pita chips.

Which reminds me:  Robin and Karen and Craig I went out for Pho the other night. And one of the descriptions of their Pho offerings was "with fatty brisket." Which I decided is going to be my stripper name. Fatty Brisket. I know, right? I am all about truth in advertising. Although can you imagine the twisted subsect of Jewish men I will attract? Yikes. 

Anyway, back to my Olympic dream.... I have a secret weapon: Tonya Harding lives in my town. Well, I live in her town, to be accurate because she was here first. Also because I don't want her to hurt me. But I am thinking of asking her to train me.

How awesome would that be? Me and La Tone cutting it up on my fake wood laminate floors in our BeDazzled  socks. I smell a webisode mega hit in the making. 

I would like to think that I am the kind of athlete who can be friends with Michelle Kwan and Tonya. Maybe I could even bring La Tone back into the fold. Clean up her act. I could be The Figure Skater Whisperer. Oh wait, I can't be The Figure Skater Whisperer. I am already Fatty Brisket. 

I guess I could be The Fatty Figure Brisket Whisperer. It might be too long name to tattoo on my butt, however. 

Hah. No it isn't. Who am I kidding? I've seen my butt.

So anyway, I ran into Tonya a while back. Well, not so much "ran into her" as "nervously walked quickly away from her."

I had smiled at her and there was something in the way she looked at me that made me feel as if.....if....she had seen directly into my figure skating soul. Like she was saying, "you and I are one." Or maybe she was saying, "stop following me, you weird old person wearing two pairs of glasses on your nose." (I refuse to wear bifocals). 

Anyway, I think we had a moment. And the next time I run into her I am definitely going to ask her to train me in sock skating.

Or stripping.

 

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Hope your rack is real, unlike Hardings -- which, by now, are probably Hard-things.

I hate when that happens.