My Shame is Not A Pity

I  had lost my phone, but was worried about getting a new one for fear of losing all 216 unread messages i anticipated people had sent me in the last week. Today, sure enough, I did find my phone and I called out to Spence all sing-songy: “Spe-ence, I found my pho-one and now i can fire it up and read all of the 427 annoying messages people have presumably been sending me!” and Spence was all “Whatever, do you want a baked spud?” And i was all “be happier for meeeee, i found my pho-one!” And as i charge up my phone, i’m muttering verbal-fryishly: “He’s never happy enough for me…” but still I’m just stoked about reading all of my 1674 messages, while worrying about eye strain and the repetitive stress syndrome triggered from replying to all 30,434 messages…but come to find there are all of four messages on my phone: one from Chase, generously notifying me that my checking account balance is low, and one from Cricket, quirkily nudging me to update my credit card expiration date.

I’m still psyched I found it, cause there was a really unflattering naked photo on there that I sent to Spence last year while he was on tour with the Super Furry Animals, in which my breasts look just like dachshund ears, so i was really hoping that particular image didn’t get into the wrong paws…although after sharing this with you, impressions of what that photo would depict are in the wrong minds. And actually, i’m just thankful for healthy breasts, daschshund-earish or otherwise…and anyway, dachshunds have beautiful ears…and anyway, there’s a lid for every pot…an ear for every ditty… a mouth for every clitty…and a shame is not a pity…Or whatever summation suits your fancy.

Luz Spencer and DinaMy husband Spence and me. Photograph by stellar Luz Gallardo.