Trekkychick

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Dear loyal blog reader,

We all know that the difficulty moving past a relationship is linked in part to the inevitable memories you’ll experience in the aftermath of the breakup, as explored in This fascinating post by Troi.

However, these internal memories are propagated by external reminders that exist everywhere. I, for example, daily pass by Mt. Scott Blvd, walk down grocery aisles filled with Scott brand tissue paper, and my best male friend of the platonic persuasion is cursed with the same appellation, rendering me unable to escape a single moment scott-free.

But harder is walking into the bar where you had your first drink with The Ex, walking into the movie theater where you took The Ex to a movie you hoped he’d like, catching a glimpse of The Ex’s favorite sports team, a CD with The Ex’s favorite band, or a song The Ex mentioned he liked once as it played on the radio in the car. How do we move past this problem? It is not practical (and it can be dangerous, I found) to walk around the city with our eyes closed in fear of encountering a tangible token of the existence of The Ex. And it is unpleasant to eliminate entirely the act of leaving your apartment to ensure that you avoid any bars, movie theaters, or other buildings that may ignite similar recollections. And you may ultimately regret trashing your television, computer, entire CD collection, and car stereo. I know I did.

So I’m here to tell you, there is a better way! It is called “Relationship Relocation.” Relationship Relocation (RR) is the act of confining your current relationship to one or more locations to which, in the instance of breakup, it is unlikely you’ll ever return. Enjoy your current relationship while it lasts in the confines of an area that you will not frequent after the breakup. I suggest Iceland. Make sure that you and your current partner fly on separate planes to your designated “Relationship headquarters” in Iceland to extinguish any possibility that future plane rides will be tainted by memories of you cuddling with The Ex. On your isolated plane ride, resist the temptation to listen to any songs, read any books, or watch any in-flight movies, as these songs, books, and/or in-flight movies will surely betray you in the cruel form of memories when you come across these items after the breakup.

While you spend an evening in Iceland with your current partner, do not eat at restaurants that are chains. Research the restaurant thoroughly and grill the owner to ensure that there are no plans to expand Iceland’s Italian Indulgences to any of the 50 states. (Or to Italy, where you may want to travel one day.)

In Iceland you may get bored. Resist the urge to watch a movie or play a board game with your current partner. These, too, will become tainted after the breakup and spelling your favorite word backwards will never be quite the same again. Do not discuss anything of interest with your current partner while in Iceland, such as your life goals (because then you’ll have to change them) or your hobbies (because then you’ll have to change those too).

For more ideas on how to compartmentalize your relationship through the act of Relationship Relocation, please see www.iftroididiticandoittoo.com and enter your name, birthdate, the last four digits of your social security number, your bank account number, your pin number, and your annual household income. Once I have all of your personal information, I will be more than happy to breakup-proof your current relationship to ensure a pleasant post-breakup existence! Go to my fictitious website now, you’ll be glad you did! 🙂

-Troi out

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Dear Loyal Blog Reader,

Nobody knows my secret but you. I am confiding the following information to you with the explicit understanding that you will keep it confidential. Do not go spreading it around, for example, posting it on the internet and such, thereby breaking this bond of trust we’ve built over the past…..few weeks…..of blogging.

I tend to get stuck in bathrooms. I used to assume this happened to everybody, but the regularity with which it has happened of late has given me cause to stop and ponder whether the high frequency of occurrance of these bathroom lock-ins is higher in my life than, for example, in yours.

A brief chronology of these “bathroom incidents” will bring you up to speed on this phenomenon.

1596 A.D. John Harrington invents the toilet for Queen Elizabeth I.

1990 A.D. During an outdoor hiking trip with my girl scout troop, I get stuck in the port-a-potty. The group continues on the hike until they count heads. Everyone, including my own mother who was an assistant on the hike, says, “Who is missing? We just can’t figure it out!” They finally trace their way back to the port-a-potty, where they hear me crying out in desperation, “I want to LIVE! Help me….”

1999 A.D. The lock gets stuck in a bathroom in one of the college dorms. I am inside. Eventually I am rescued.

2001 A.D. I am enjoying a cheese quesadilla at a Mexican restaurant with friends when I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. The door sticks. With Mexican music blaring throughout the restaurant, nobody hears my shouts of, “Wait for me, oh quesadilla of love! I will come back for you…” That quesadilla suffers from abandonment issues to this day.

2007 A.D. I work for a district that emphasizes the importance of conserving energy. Employees are to turn off the lights when they leave a room. Employees are apparently so dedicated to conserving energy that they turn off the lights while I am still peeing in a stall. It is pitch black and I can’t find my way out of the bathroom.

Today, A.D. They do it again. What, do I need to carry a night light with me to the bathroom in anticipation of these blackouts??

More shocking than getting stuck in a bathroom an average of once every 5 years is that there has not yet been a country song written about this. Country singers write about all sorts of tragedies, and they haven’t yet considered the untapped resource that is the woe of fearing living one’s life trapped in the throes of the porcelain throne??

Well, it stops here and now. Today I acknowledge all of the pour souls who, like me, fear the bathroom stall as a potential prison cell from which there is no escape. This song is dedicated to all out there who are like me. If there are none, this song is dedicated to me.

Stuck in the Bathroom (best sung with a country twang)

“I got stuck in the bathroom (again)”
There just was no way out!
The music was so loud out there
that no one heard me shout.

I’m still stuck in the bathroom,
Seems to happen every day.
Might as well get used to it,
Here forever will I stay.”

** “Stuck in the Bathroom,” the new hit single from Troi, is in such high demand that it is only available at her exclusive website, www.snailsandsugar.com. That’s right, you will not (yet) find it on your local country music station, VH1, MTV, or PBS. Only www.snailsandsugar.com offers you an exclusive look at Troi’s new music video for “Stuck in the Bathroom.” Other smash hits from her new CD (entitled “Bringing Sexy Bathrooms Back”) include “I got the Bathroom Blues” and “How’d it get so Dark in Here?” Please check back frequently for Troi’s music video, which will not soon be entering a music store near you.

–Troi out

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Dear Reader,

We all know how hard breakups can be. However, we rarely acknowledge that there’s a simple way around the pain experienced after a bad breakup. A little example called “logic” will serve to demonstrate my point.

If Breakups = Pain,
and Relationships = Breakups,
Then Relationships ultimately = Pain.

So let’s stop blaming the breakup for our pain. Let’s get to the root of the matter and blame ourselves for having entered into the relationship in the first place! We should have known it would ultimately end in pain.

This is exactly why we need to start having Breakup Sects. Breakup Sects are groups of people who share a common interest in abolishing the self-destructive behavior known as a Relationship. Once you have gone through a particularly painful breakup, you will be eligible to join the Breakup Sect of your choosing. You will be assigned a sponsor who supports you in your journey to permanently remove the harmful act of having a Relationship in your life.

When you develop the self-destructive urge to have a relationship, remember that this is what the Breakup Sects are for! Immediately call your Breakup Sect’s sponsor. He or she will remind you of the logical equation that led you to the realization that Relationships = Pain and will list in alphabetical order the reasons why you turned to Breakup Sects to avoid this certain pain.

I hope that you find my idea of Breakup Sects useful.

–Troi out

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Hello loyal blog readers,

It is important today that we commemorate this sacred holiday of Easter by reflecting on the true meaning underlying this celebration.

Easter honors the great Mr. E. Sterbunnie, who, as we religious folk all know, was born in Eggsleham in a small basket filled with straw. Three Wise Hens celebrated the joyous occasion of Mr. Sterbunnie’s birth by presenting him with gifts of gold-foil wrapped Cadbury eggs, Eggsincense, and rabbit fur. Mr. Sterbunnie so delighted in the gold-foil wrapped Cadbury eggs he received at his birth that he devoted his life to ensuring that at least once every year, young children everywhere could indulge in similar confectionery delights!

Unfortunately, not everybody supported Mr. Sterbunnie’s mission. The vegans, the Coalition for Keeping Children’s Weight Proportional to their Height, and the Group Against Genetically Modified Chocolate felt that Mr. Sterbunnie was promoting an unhealthy religious community. They doubted his sincerity and suspected he was an undercover Cadbury operative misleading the consumers in favor of the financial prosperity of the Cadbury corporation. This was a particularly serious allegation considering that corporations did not even exist at that time in history.

With all the pressure from the vegans, Mr. Sterbunnie had no choice but to flee the community. He spent 40 days and 40 nights wandering through the desert, with nothing but chocolate Cadbury cream eggs to sustain him. He was very thirsty, and without water to wash down the chocolate, he eventually became dehydrated.

Mr. Sterbunnie may have died in the desert, but the Three Wise Hens who found him there that Sunday decided that the day would henceforth be known as E. Ster. The correct punctuation and spelling was lost throughout centuries of translations, and the day is now best known as “Easter.” To this day, we honor Mr. E. Sterbunnie’s memory with Cadbury cream eggs and chocolate E. Sterbunnies.

–Troi out

*All names, events, and locations have been changed to protect the anonymity of Mr. E. Sterbunnie** and his descendants.

**Not his real name.

***Or it could be. I’m not telling.

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I just got off the phone with my mother, who recently had a tumor (named Tommy. Tommy the Tumor.) removed from her colon. Since then, she has had the joyous fortune of receiving an abundance of fan letters from all of the doctors that saw her through her medical emergency. The fan letters are all written in mysterious code, an amalgamation of numeric signs and symbols, such as “$4,977.88” and “$929.12” and the most perplexing, “Insurance contribution: $500.00.”

Much research into the perplexing situation uncovered that not only did her fans expect her autograph, they expected it to come on some rather sizable checks. Now I know you’re thinking that after years of forced monetary donations to this company (called “paycheck deductions”); numbering tens of thousands of dollars, what a shame it is that this company has only $500 to donate in return!

Of course, without question, some of these expenses are necessary. Such as the $329.00 charge from the doctor who walked into the room and said, “Tomorrow you will be having a colonoscopy.” After all, without that crucial 2.7 second conversation, my mother would have been shocked when they started shoving that tube up her gastrointestinal tract! Just imagine: There she would have been, sitting in her hospital bed, consuming the hospital delicacies of jello and turkey broth while gaily viewing the finest in hospital television (all one channels), and the next moment, she would have been accosted by men wearing blue sheets wielding large tubes and holding her down! And my poor unsuspecting mother would have shouted in fear, “I know I am in the hospital for acute stomach pain and that you have to explore the stomach area to find the source of the problem, but I never would have expected this colonoscopy! Shouldn’t you have sent a doctor in here yesterday, while I was so drugged from pain medication that anything I was informed of is a fuzzy garbled haze of nothing, to spend 2.7 seconds informing me of today’s procedure? And then charged me $329.00 for that intensive dialogue???”

The biggest shame is that it is my mom who should be profiting from this tumor extraction experience, not the doctors! Here she selflessly put her tumor on display and allowed the doctors high definition uncensored footage for their viewing pleasure! Without tumors like hers, these doctors would be out of a job! They should be paying her! (And Tommy the Tumor should get royalties.)

I can personally attest to the incompetence of these doctors whose services are so outrageously overpriced. The day before my mom’s surgery, one of the many doctors who came in and said something important like “Are you enjoying your tasty magnesium sulfate drink and would you like some enemas for dessert?” assured my mom that her surgery would go well because one of the Head Surgeons was operating on her. Really?? Why on earth would they have a head doctor operate on my mother’s stomach?? Wouldn’t a Stomach Doctor have been better suited to the job?!

–Troi out

*The author of this blog actually likes doctors. All statements in this blog are made for entertainment purposes only and are not to be regarded as opinions of either the author, or anyone else. In fact, the author assures you that she does not believe in opinions and chooses not to have them. While the choice not to have opinions may in itself appear to be an opinion, and in fact is, that is just your opinion, and not the opinion of the author of this blog.

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