My Friend Nora

I was almost eaten by jealousy tonight. It's odd, there's really only one person in the world who causes the green-ey'd monster to come crawling out. Why can I not be happy for her? I don't even understand what my hang-up is. Dear world-traveling, beautiful, insanely blessed friend, I wish you well. And, no, folks. It's not Nora Ephron. My friend is much prettier. Although Nora did look "cool" there for a little while, in the sixties.

Did You Check Your Serotonin Levels Today?

Note to self: stop looking at pictures of L. who is skinny and fabulous and whose life is a cabaret of joys. It's not her fault that you have a problem with your serotonin levels, dude. It's not her fault she's a former model with legs up to here and good muscle tone. Stop looking at her FB profile! That would be a start.

Je ne regrette rien

Karl Lagerfeld says the Sword of Damocles should be hanging over every friendship. And when there's a faux pas, a trespass, a betrayal, a f-up, it comes down like an Iron Curtain and there's no looking back. He's not interested in forgiveness. He said he has no time for it, he didn't grow up Catholic, he will not turn the other cheek. He lives in the eternal now; he doesn't look back, regret. To quote Edith Piaf: non, je ne regrette rien!

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom

A told B and B told C, I'll meet you at the top of the coconut tree.

translation: A, B and C are all kooky/coocoo (i.e. coconuts) and chicka chicka, there won't be enough room, and crash. kaboom.

But thank you, atypical antipsychotic. Thanks to you, I found a little perch on the coconut tree!

Dishing at Dish

Dinner with gorgeous Marc by Marc Jacobs-clad X. who told me illuminating things about J. over pâté, duck prosciutto, foie gras, truffled fries and Champagne cocktails. Thought that J. was always consumed with envy and bitterness and spoke from a place of anger. Felt superior to me when I was down, then couldn't handle me when I woke up from my 1,000-year sleep. Kissed by the spiderwoman. A poisonous girl that chick. X. thought B. was socially inept, too. Feel so relieved to hear another perspective. And really, what did J. and I ever do have in common? Not books, not football (yuck). Not style, not substance. Good riddance, I say! As to Dish, I'd give them 2.75 out of 5. They still have some kinks to work out.

Ritalin and Recovering Riddance

2010 is a fantastic year, and not only because the sum of its parts adds up to the holy trinity: 3. This will be the year I will be skinny, bitches. It will also be the year of letting go of festeringly bad friendships and reconnecting with old awol peeps, such as AP, who is on Ritalin now but cannot focus on even a giant elephant in front of him. But I'm glad we reconnected, because when Dr. S. retires for realz in July, I will start seeing AP's shrink to the stars. Other friendships that need some work:

SL, who accused me of making out with the boy she had a crush on, when all he did was pick me up and told me he wants to f... me.

CR, who thought I was a total loser for having PPD and left me out in the cold

IB, who I misjudged badly, mostly fed by nasty jealous comments from JSF

IG, brother dearest

SL, who I thought deserted me but turns out has been sick as a dog since August

Pixie Envy

Facebook sucks. Because there you can see which if your friends attended the LA Pixies concert, which you did not.

Friends Again

A nice cup off coffee with D. who popped over and brought Belgian chocolates and stories of Prague Spring ('68), David Bowie in Berlin and Maurice Sendak took care of that shiteous feeling. I feel so much better. I deleted A's voicemail without listening to it. I wash my hands off everything.

Frenemies

A. calls me out of the blue (i.e. heroin addiction recovery) and says he wants to be friends again but in order to do so I need to personally invite N. as well to make her feel comfortable and important and basically cater to her and not make her feel like a second class citizen. Then he says I can only call him during emergencies, Wed. through Friday from 6pm-11pm; otherwise A. has to call him. And once, ten years ago or whatever I supposedly made fun of her last name, saying it's German, as if that were such a horrible thing. And I recall many many instances when I went out of my way to invite both A and N, always using plural on the answer machine. But as I just told him, I don't have the energy to put up with the foibles of an insecure adult person (I have a toddler) and I cannot live by rules such as only calling during certain times of the week at certain times. I mean who can keep track of such shit? And A. said, well, maybe that means that we'll be seeing less of each other... when really, I haven't seen in him in probably four months. So I hung up on him. I will never forget the time he facilitated getting me out of the psych ward and holding me all night when I was too scared to live, and visiting him when he was in a coma, and we have a lot of history together... This is so very sad. But I just don't have the energy for it.

Friends are Not 4ever

Just when I thought I lost a friend, I gained six. But it's hard. I was talking to J. and she described to me a fantastic setting of kicking it with the kiddies, eating, drinking, smoking and fantabulating while the little ones run around in their jammies, and it's all good vibes and good fun and the kids are totally included. And I'm sad, because I don't have that and don't know if I ever will. But what I do have is D. with stories of selling John Lennon his first car and spying on Twiggy in her kitchen and X and Y and Z and U and K, all smart and artists and intellectual and fun. And I just once again need to learn to be OK with what is vs. what is not.