Well of course I was semi-flattered, because as the author of Eat, Pray, Love, Gilbert is successful and a writer — two things on my “to-do” list of life. But I don’t know, something about her has always bugged me a little. I could never put my finger on it exactly, but whatever it was tempered my enthusiasm for her. So while I enjoyed her TED speech, I still found myself not completely wooed.

THEN, my other brother, my dopey, lame OTHER brother (who had been cc:d on the above), sent me the below email.

“Good timing on this video - Both because I’ve been working on a project for a TED wish winner at work, and because I just read a review of Elizabeth Gilbert’s new book that had some great insights into this sort of personality.

Some highlights:

“It does not take a lot to get Gilbert worked up.”

“Keeping things in perspective is not Gilbert’s strong suit. This is why she goes on so many trips and does so much information gathering: she wants to understand how her fellow-humans have resolved the issues that torment her. The result is Gilbert’s new book, a journey through domestic history and her own neuroses.”

“Ultimately, Gilbert is clear about what she, like most people, wants: everything. Intimacy and autonomy, security and stimulation, reassurance and novelty, coziness and thrills.”

And my personal favorite, something every man can probably relate to:

“All this ambivalence, expressed in her high-drama prose, can be a lot to handle. (One generally doesn’t indulge another person’s emotional processing at this length unless the jabbering is likely to conclude with sex.)”

Right. NOW I get it.

Also, the email from my brother(s)?

Was titled, “Deb’s Alter Ego.”

Sometimes it takes those closest to you to really show you yourself.

Those little fuckers.

Last night, Booger coughed constantly and continuously and for the frack ever. Like as in and for example, ALL NIGHT LONG. She obviously had a tickle in her throat that wouldn’t quit and it plagued her throughout the ENTIRE EVENING AND INTO THE DAY.

As a concerned mother and sleep addict, I cared deeply about this cough tickle and hoped it would magically disappear if I ignored it. (Militant parental types please note: The tickle is just a tickle and if she were sick, I would have made my husband go in there and do something comforting and healing.)
As it turned out, the tickle would not go quietly into the night, so I eventually hopped was pushed out of bed and made my way to Booger’s room to perform a de-cough-tickle voodoo ritual.

Because I’d already given Booger some stuff for her throat and made her drink enough water so she’ll pee into summer vacation, I was left to my own devices and imagination. As a mother, I’ve often found that for kids, just the suggestion of magical healing is enough, and so I searched my sleep-addled mind for something that would make Booger think she didn’t have the cough tickle anymore.

I got real creative. First, I started with “let me tickle that tickle away,” a fun game comprised of stroking Booger’s back until she relaxed enough to fall asleep. When that didn’t work I tried, “let’s blow that tickle out!” a hilarious time of making Booger exhale loudly into a napkin until the tickle popped out. Since that wasn’t effective either, it was time to pull out the big guns. This is where the voodoo comes in.

First, I folded the bed covers just so under Booger’s chin. Then I massaged her cheeks to disperse the tickle energy and draw it into my cupped hand. Once the tickle was procured, I shook it real hard (just because) and brought the curled fist to my ear. I gave that tickle a chance to explain itself, but after hearing what it had to say, told it loudly, I WILL NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY! YOU ARE IN TIME OUT!, and opened a dresser drawer to shove that damn tickle inside.

During this important medical procedure, Booger watched attentively. When she was sure the bothersome tickle was in a place where it could not get out for the rest of the night, she settled in for some much-needed sleep.

And so things went along nicely and silently until the tickle managed to escape three minutes later with the help of its unseemly friends, Bigger Tickle, Enormous Tickle, and Screw-You Tickle.

Ain’t enough voodoo in the world gonna take care of those three.

Or drive to Lorita Linz’s place and shout through the window, “Hi Lorita! I’m here for my Cialis soft tabs! You said you’d sell and ship to anywhere on the globe, but I was in the neighborhood so thought I’d stop by!”

Then, I’d make a stop at Brandie’s place so she could remove my dark circles and make my eyes more attractive permanently. And if I really felt energetic, I’d swing by Ladee Luvs Men’s house because she told me she “enjoys all types of men,” so I’m assuming she means wo-men too. I’m not sure how we’ll enjoy each other, but I’m game to find out. There’ll probably be tea.

After I exhaust my spam visit quota in the U.S., I hope to travel to Africa. There’s a deposed Nigerian prince there who needs me to remit the amount of $8,000 into a dormant back account so his confiscated funds can…oh. well, it’s all so very sad. I just hope I can help him in time. But if not, I understand he has a cousin in the Czech Republic who could use a hand.

Tell a story using ONLY dialogue.

A toughie, right? But I know you can do it.

Please post your submission in the comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments.

First time to PROMPTuesday? Read a bit about it here.
Want to see what’s been written in the past? Catch up on the PROMPTuesdays archive here.

Still. These things, this “stuff I like” really moves me. All these items were purchased by me, not provided by sponsors (not that I’d even know a sponsor if one came up and bit me in the ad space), and are used very often by moi for my intense pleasure in a non-vibratory fashion.*

Let’s get to it.

First up is skincare. Oy, my skin. It is unhappy with me. It lets me know this in wrinkly, oily, zitty ways. Over the years, I’ve experimented with many, many products to sooth the savage complexion beast. Here are some of my favorites:

Vitamin C Serum from Pure Parisians

I once read that a dermatologist can tell right off if a person uses Vitamin C treatments on her face. There’s a certain smoothness and glowiness to the complexion that’s immediately obvious. I’ve used a lot of Vitamin C serums in my day, but this one is my favorite. It absorbs instantly. It doesn’t make my skin oily or break out. And it doesn’t have “that smell.” You know the one. Also, I notice a difference in my skintone when I use this, which I appreciate more than I can ever tell you.

Creme de la Creme Eye Revitalizing Treatment

I don’t what’s in this exactly (actually, the website tells you all the ingredients), but it’s a miracle worker. It’s kinda like an eye suck eraser. I put this stuff on and I instantly feel like I can go places without makeup. My eyes are refreshed and non-crepey. I love, love, LOVE this cream. Also, I hear there’s a new eye product on the market from Pure Parisians that tightens. TIGHTENS. There can never be enough tightening in my life.

I will buy this immediately.

Theresa Rose Jewelry

If you’re looking for affordable, unique, cool, wear-it-everyday jewelry, I insist you head over to this Etsy site right now. Go ahead, leave me. It’s OK. I adore this shop for necklaces and earrings I can wear to jazz up my mom uniform, my girl’s night out outfit, my date ensemble. I hear Theresa’s jewelry also looks good on naked people.

The Reliable Wife is my book club pick this month. Although I haven’t finished it yet, I am adoring the writing style. The plot is absorbing, the characters interesting, and the promise of booky goodness to come is enticing. I’ll let you know how it was when I’m done with it, but for now, I’m rating this a “must-read.”

Staires.org

I love this guy’s frickin’ site. I like the way he writes, I like what he says, I like his music picks. I’ve discovered tons of new music by reading his write-ups. Every day he picks another song to review, AND includes the song to sample. The link I shared above is his “Best of 2009″ post. It’s a must-listen if you like discovering new artists and songs (and old artists and songs you may have missed).

So there you go! I hope you take the time to enjoy the above in a non-vibratory fashion, as I have.

Or….

Nah. On second thought, keep the vibratory parts to yourself.

*I don’t know. Sometimes I just write and hope it makes sense in the end.

Notes:

1. I lied. I will tell you: I was on San Diego Channel 6’s Saturday morning news. There is no link though, thank the Lord in His starry heaven above.

2. The “Lia Sophia jewelry rep lady” is Elizabeth (link here).

3. I never actually said the names of the products I demo’d (that’s bad, right?) So please see below for the links to the products. There were some good ones. Plus, I’ve giving one or two of them away.

You remember that TV thing, right? As in, I’m going to be on it?

I’ve got my Secret Extra Strength ready to roll and a six-pack of Tums in my pocket, in case I over-perspire or throw up on camera. Thanks for your helpful tips. I especially appreciate the reminders to be myself…just not sure which self to be. There are so many of us. Hopefully I’ll figure it out by tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be the librarian whose a real firecracker in the sack.

Meanwhile, I thought I’d share the items I’ll be demo’ing. If you’d like, you can learn more about them by clicking the links below. I’ll be giving away the first two dealie-bobs (Treasure Chest Pets and MyPlate-Mate), so if you’d like to win, just leave me a comment with what you’d prefer and be sure to include your email! I’ll randomly pick two people to win on Wednesday, March 9.

Treasure Chest Pets are stuffed animal organizers that are a great way for kids to keep their special things safe. Each TC Pet has a magnetic, detachable, pillowy stuffed animal head and stuffed animal body with external and internal compartments for organizing and storing children’s treasures. I am showing the Accessory Chest Pig, which has a hidden drawer and two secret pockets on the outside, along with hidey pockets in both ears.

MyPlate-Mate is a spill-guard for toddlers that attaches to the rim of any standard plate. In a nutshell, it creates a bumper to prevent food from falling off the plate while a child eats. Also, the Plate-Mate’s curved wall helps kids easily scoop food onto their fork, spoon, finger. The Plate-Mate has no lead, phthalates, bisphenol-a, polycarbonates or PVC. Plus! It’s dishwasher-safe.

The BumpyName is a line of elastic rubber labels that are personalized, non-adhesive, reusable and come in a variety of colors. BumpyName’s stretchy design allows it to snugly fit around containers, from baby bottles to sippy cups to snack containers. These suckers are heavy duty and can withstand the rigors of repeated dishwashing, microwaving, boiling and sterilizing.

So there you go. Now be honest, who took bets on whether or not I’d accidentally smell my pits during the interview?

My husband: Hi, honey, how was your day?

Me: DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?

My husband: Sounds good. I’m going to take a shower now.

Me: What is that faraway look in your eye? Are you leaving me? Who is she?

My husband: See you in about 15 minutes.

*****15 Minutes Later*****

Scene: It is still night.

My husband: What are our plans for Saturday?

Me: I feel so disconnected from you. We never talk anymore.

My husband: Aren’t we talking now?

Me: You don’t look at me the same. I want you to look at me the same.

My husband (making a dopey face): Like this?

Me (making an even dopier face with oogly eyes): No. Like this.

My husband: I don’t think my face can do that.

Me: It would if it loved me.

*****3 Minutes Later*****

Scene: Night still.

My husband: What’s for dinner?

Me: All I do is cook and clean! You don’t appreciate me!

Pasta.

My husband: It looks delicious. I will clean up the kitchen after I eat your homecooked meal.

Me: Are you patronizing me?

My husband: Nope.

Me: So you love me?

My husband: Yep.

Me: That didn’t sound very convincing. You paused a little before answering.

My husband: What can I do to make you feel better?

Me: Make your face do that thing I showed you.

End scene.

Several other fantastic San Diego bloggers are nominees as well, so check out the list and vote for some of these wonderful writers!

In these cases, I either didn’t believe that I deserved to raise an alarm or I felt “bad” for saying “NO!” I often downplayed sexual harassment, for instance, because the term seemed so serious, so “surely that wasn’t what happened to me, he just got a little frisky,” and I didn’t want to make a problem by saying anything. After all, he just “kissed me on the cheek and grabbed my butt.” He’s just playing around. Never mind that he knows I’m married and we’re at a work function. Sad to say, I laughed that incident off and acted like it hadn’t happened. You know, because to do otherwise would make me one of “those girls” who make a big deal out of everything.

Even when I was stalked and my stalker BROKE MY DOOR DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, I felt bad for bothering the police. Because at one time, I chose to date this person, so it must be MY FAULT that now he won’t leave me alone. A belief made more substantial after the male cop asked me what I had done to make my stalker so obsessed with me. After I discovered that police reports hadn’t even been filed (when I had been told otherwise) for each incident (including but not limited to crawling through my window and hiding under my bed), I thought for sure I didn’t “deserve” to be called a victim of a crime.

A few years after that melee, something just as frightening happened, something that could have turned out much worse.

About 10 years ago, The Rock and I were at a friend’s party several blocks away from where we lived. I drank too much and accused The Rock of flirting with a woman at the party. He’d become frustrated when I wouldn’t let it go and left the party, thinking I’d sleep it off at our friend’s house or at the very least, get a ride home. After he left, I decided I’d walk home and give him what-for some more. So I took off without telling anybody and began to stumble the half-mile to our house. After a few minutes, a white truck drove by, stopped, and then backed up to idle at the opposite curb from me. There were two men in the truck and the passenger rolled down his window and shouted a few things to me that I couldn’t hear. I ignored them and continued to walk. Although drunk, I knew this could get dangerous. I was alone without a cell phone on a dark street at midnight and I didn’t have all my faculties about me. Also, there were two of them.

Sure enough, one of the guys got out of the truck and crossed the street. I kept walking, mumbling to myself, hoping he’d think I was crazy. It didn’t work. He jogged over to me, put his hands up my mini skirt and began to pull my underwear to the side. His buddy stayed in the car, keeping an eye out I suppose. The fondling lasted about two or three minutes. I kept walking the whole time, looking straight ahead, saying, “I’m almost home, I’m almost home.”

I have no idea why, but he left. Got back in the truck and just left. THANK GOD. I ran the rest of the way home and told The Rock what had happened. I was very unsober, but he got the gist and insisted we call the police. No, I begged. No. I’m drunk. They won’t believe me. Nothing bad happened. I don’t want to bother the police. But God love him, The Rock picked up the phone anyway and within minutes, an officer arrived to hear my story.

Truthfully? I felt like an idiot. Question after question revealed that I had been drunk, walked home by myself, and wore a short skirt. I didn’t feel blamed per se, but rather somehow responsible. Still, the next day, a detective left me a message to investigate the incident further. Again, I felt silly. Like all this attention was being directed at me and I didn’t deserve it.

I know for a fact that if I hadn’t been with The Rock, I never would have called to report what happened to me. It seemed so minor, so unworthy of attention. Can you believe that? A stranger stuck his hand in my underwear and I thought I was the problem. I wonder now about women like me; women who don’t want to “make waves,” or discount themselves to such an extent that they truly believe somewhere inside, they’re not “important” enough to draw attention to the bad things that happen to them.

I write all this because I wonder about the unreported “incidents” that might have alerted authorities to suspicious behavior, that might have led police to investigate a person before he “strikes again.” What if those guys in the white truck went on to another girl after me? What if she hadn’t gotten off as “easy” as I did? If I hadn’t reported it, then someone else may have suffered. I’m grateful I did report it. But you know what? I had to have someone else tell me I was worth it.

I am on my way to stronger self-belief and confidence, to “I AM worth it.” It’s a long, long road. I’m not sure why it’s like that for me. But I tell you what, I’m making damn sure my girls don’t walk the same way I have.