Worth a shot.

So you know those giant multi-level trucks that are used to transport cars to dealerships and whatnot? And all the cars are all chained up there and when you're little and in the backseat you look out and think, "AGGGHHH ALL THOSE CARS ARE GOING TO ROLL OVER US!" but then your dad says, "Not possible, Squishy. No way no how. Never never never never happens." So then you continue on for years in your automobile-centered existence, secure in the knowledge that, though anything from a jet airplane to a fuel tanker to an asleep guy to a chicken could come raging straight at you at any time, those trucks with all the cars on them? Yeah, those are ABSOLUTELY NO THREAT, BABY.

On my way to work this morning I saw one of those trucks... and all of its car babies were sorely scattered across the freeway, all those chains loose and just blowing in the wind.

I've based my entire behavioral existence on some fundamental "possible" and "not possible" facts. "Cars Falling Off The Transport Truck" is one of the core NOT POSSIBLE principles. "Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board" and "Normal And Healthy Couples Who've Had A Threeway" are close seconds, but that truck thing... that was my nucleus. I'm not sure what to do now.

I mean, besides invite some random chick over to fool around.

And then try to levitate her.

Spreading Christmas Cheer... Of The Completely Invisible And/Or Liquid Variety.

Here's a breakdown of the Christmas Progress: please bear in mind that I'm leaving town on Thursday, so multiply any requisite panic by fourteen degrees. If for some reason there is no discernable panic, multiply that panic by sixty-eight degrees.

Presents purchased thus far:

a) boots

b) purse

c) seven smallish stuffed orange octopi

d) two largish stuffed blue octopi

e) $210 worth of MAC makeup

Number of presents which I am currently wearing on my feet or face and/or using to carry all my stuff around: three.

Bottles of wine purchased as hostess gifts: three.

Number of hostesses who have received bottles of wine from me thus far: zero.

Number of orange and/or blue octopi currently squishing around in my car: nine octopi.

How much I love typing the word “octopi” on a scale of one to ten: eleven octopi.

It Pays To DISCOVER.

These boots are fucking hot.

Octopi: They’re Everywhere You Want To Be.

Yeah, I'm probably on the other side.

I think I'm officially over my clench-fisted, cold-sweats, mutated peripheral vision "New Car Paranoia"; I was on the freeway this morning when I narrowly (NARROWLY) missed hitting some woman in a sedan as I was jerking myself out of the insufferably slow lane. The woman started screaming at me through the driver's side glass and over the expanse of my hood that was really very (VERY) near her door.

"Whoa," I said, smiling. Hands up, palms out. "Chill. You're okay. Damn."

In other news, I'm a big bitch.

No? Just me, huh?

Have you ever gotten really drunk when your man is out of town and you get on Amazon and order every book that Patricia Cornwell ever wrote, some of them twice, one of them three times, and then you go to sleep and completely forget the frenzied, slack-jawed, ice-cube rattling Amazon fiesta until weeks later when the books start arriving? And just when you think you've gotten over how ridiculous you are you get another yellow media mail envelope containing yet another copy of "Cruel and Unusual"? And you wince? Again? And then wonder just how many fucking books that woman has written anyway?

And then you open the mailbox and there's a Jenga in there? And now you know your Amazon situation is way, way worse than you could have imagined, and you tell yourself that next time you're left alone you'll just pay-per-view some porn like usual and save yourself the cash?

This is seriously an addendum I received from my car insurance company today.

"The following is added to What Is Not Covered:

a. THERE IS NO COVERAGE FOR BODILY INJURY THAT RESULTS FROM EXPOSURE TO FUNGI.

b. THERE IS NO COVERAGE FOR BODILY INJURY THAT RESULTS FROM:

1) NUCLEAR REACTION;

2) RADIATION OR RADIOACTIVE CONTAMINATION, OR

3) THE ACCIDENTAL OR INTENTIONAL DETONATION OF, OR RELEASE OF RADIATION FROM, ANY NUCLEAR OR RADIOACTIVE DEVICE."

I don't know that I can rest at night knowing that I'm not covered in case of mushroom.

Or, you know, the nuclear holocaust.