Berger breaks up with Carrie on a post-it note. Then the girls take her out to a bar where Samantha sees her boyfriend Smith on tv telling the world he's single, while Miranda is over joyed she lost enough weight from the baby to fit in her skinny jeans, and Charlotte is being all weird about her second wedding after having been divorced.
A simple little post-it note, yellow; the kind you find everywhere in offices, schools, etc.
The episode that inspired this series of random messages to you Mr. Scratchy, Herman.
So why did the break-up episode inspire these little notes to you? I haven't figured that part out yet. It just did. And now, Herman, I'm stuck. No pun intended. We're caught in a pattern here. Or at lest I am.
Someone likes them, they're one of my most popular things. Tons of hits, just never any replies. I don't know, maybe because they tend to be sentimental and silly ? My most honest posts. My most raw. No puns intended.
I was thinking about this just now because I had finished a scene in the novel where the lead character, realizes he can't live his life the same way anymore. He wants more, but there's no more to have.
And it made me think of that scene in SATC. How even the best communicators can flounder at times. I've been floundering for a really long time which I'm sure you felt. Christ, I always feel like I need to apologize for stuff. Must be the Canadian factor. Thank you kindly for listening.
I imagine you reading this shaking your head at me trying to figure out what the hell I'm rattling on about now? A mouthful of gummie candies, which by the way are bad for you cause of the aspartame that most of them are made with now. Aspartame is evil. plus it leaves that nasty gasoline after taste. Anyways, I imagine you reading this right now, a mouthful of the gummie candies, wondering what the hell is wrong with me tonight? More so then you most likely usually do. A bottle of pop beside you, to wash down those candies. You squinting at the computer screen saying out loud "What? Why is she doing this? What the hell is she doing? What?" looking over your shoulder at the empty hotel room, trying to figure me out. Maybe you got a sudden chill that has nothing to do with being cold. And suddenly you realize something.
"Good god man, the bitch is so totally right about the gummie candies." I can picture you making a face sticking your tongue out, which of course is now got a green tinge to it from the candy, taking a large gulp of the pop. And you're thinking you should have gone with the animal crackers.
I still think you're a geeky, nerdy type who reads comics and paints. I still think you wear old track pants and faded hoodies, and a lot of grey shirts, and stripped pajamas. I still think you have a small dog, and wear little wire rimmed glasses. And I still think you have some sort of thesis you're writing on some sort of something. Maybe, you're going to be an archaeologist as a back-up plan, and are trying to get that degree.
This Mr. Scratchy, is the non-wrestling side of you in my head. Your face has changed with each wrestler I think you might be, but in my world, that's you in a nutshell.
I hope the real you is as interesting and sweet as the one I made up.
hugs and lemon tarts.
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