today...

The local paper caught wind that a woman in Carmel who has cancer is giving free massages to chemo patients, and they wanted to do an article. About me. There was a time in my life when I craved attention. I got so little of it as a child that I was flabbergasted that I didn't become a crack addict or a pole-dancer. I have other things going on for attention at the moment like (uh) non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.

Cancer (per se) is not my thing. I don't even like cancer and am not having as much fun with this boy hairdo, the uncertainties, the swollen gut, or the unnecessary phone calls asking about me from those people I don't like or can't remember. I'm quite enjoying the clearing out of crap thinking that when I do die someone could find that irresponsible journal in my dusty closet, that body weight-chart from the 90's, the email I shouldn't have sent, the underwear I should have pitched, my obsession with buying belts, my hideous senior picture that I refuse to throw out, or the CD that my mother recorded of how she really felt about me. I've never listened to it, but am afraid to destroy the only thing I have of her scary voice. I am so damn twisted in my own little way.

I met the young man from the paper at a hamburger joint in town, but... had the studio owners (where I rent) tag along, and (with my super-talent of stellar bullshit) made the entire interview about the philosophy of the zumba studio. He didn't know what hit him after we sat down. I refused to talk about myself... he got the tip about (cancerous) me from the Executive Vice President of the paper who wanted a cover (are you kidding me?) cover page of my story. The Vice-Pres had a Jimmy Buffet cover band of which I was a member - I sang and played the keyboards back in 2004 or so. Newspapers get desperate for stories this time of year and so... voila! - Sally had a chemo-party. It does pay to be old and get around, try anything, turn down nothing, and believe that it is your job in life to fake it until you make it. This has gotten me a very bizarre reputation - and many people insist that I am like a Renaissance woman of some kind.... That makes me chuckle loudly -- >little do they know that I am merely the Queen of horse manure with super-powers of Rikki-tikki Tavi.

It will be very interesting to see what they write, as he did insist on taking at least ten photos of me from various angles. Ugh. Now I will get the sheer pleasure of being called on the phone in two weeks by more people I don't like and can't remember.

I am such a little bitch.