I spent the last lovely weekend in Stockton, California. If you aren't asking "where is that?" you are asking "why would you do that?"
Answer to question #1: the city with the worst crime rate per capita in the nation. Answer to question #2: for my sister's baby shower given by her in-laws. The moment my brother-in-law graduated from high school, he got the flock out of here.
When I would share my weekend plans with friends and colleagues, they would respond with: well, at least you'll have plenty of material to blog about.
I didn't think I would be the material.
Actually, I shouldn't be that surprised. I am one of those people who is either a genius or a moron. As my friend, Cher, often says: "You are one of the smartest people I know, but man can you be dumb sometimes."
I don't know if "dumb" is the right word for how I rolled it this weekend, but I had a lot of bad ideas.
It was a bad idea to eat at Denny's. In Bakersfield.
I was a bad idea to spear a cherry tomato while wearing a white shirt.
It was a bad idea to take three Unisom last night.
It was a bad idea to kill an hour in Macy's during a sale when the only credit card I brought with me was American Express. Gold.
It was a bad idea to attach a giant clay penis and testicles to the clay baby I sculpted as a shower game. (My sister's nephew announced to the rest of party: "Holly's has balls!") My sister sunk down into the couch and hid her face in her hands.
It was a bad idea to protest when my clay baby didn't win.
It was a bad idea to use the bathroom after an eight-year-old boy did.
It was a bad idea to not seek out my brother-in-law's uncle once I learned that he was "probably in the garage smoking pot."
It was a bad idea to go down to the hotel bar, which was full of men, to do some writing during a televised UFC match.
It was a bad idea to smile coquettishly at a guy sitting a few chairs away from me just as his wife was returning from the restroom.
It was a bad idea to work on revising my piece that involved me boffing a twenty-eight year-old while my mother peered over my shoulder and asked, "What are you working on?"
It was a bad idea to only have one Cosmopolitan before grading my students' papers.
It was a bad idea to take a steaming hot bath while eating tomato bisque soup that I had microwaved to the temperature of Hell's summer.
I'm sure that it is a bad idea to eat about 20 Godiva chocolates right before bed.
And tomorrow, when I get up and check in on my blog, I'll think it was a bad idea to publish a post on my bad ideas.