The internet held my hair while I puked.

Remember Saddle Oxfords?

I’ve been looking for a pair for myself for the last umpteen years, and at one time, Payless had them, but I was a poor college student and didn’t have the balls to wear them.

So now, when I see Little Bill and his brother wearing them, I’m all jealous of them.

They are cartoons.

Apparently, I have serious issues with lust and wanton and coveting stuffs from kid’s cartoons.

I also have issues spreading my personal issues. Yeah, sure, I can talk about how I want to have a drag queen penis, or how I have the skin of a 14-year-old boy, or how I’m a fake writer.

But the deep down, when-I-lay-my-head-down-on-my-pillow stresses of life, stay inside me.

Until this week when I exposed myself like BritBrit’s c-section scar.

I’m all… OUT THERE.

I’ve been one of the lucky ones out here in the cyberspace. I’ve stayed away from the haters (I’m not big enough to be on their radar, thankyoujeebus), I’ve pretty much stayed away from the dramas, and I’ve made really good incredibly awesome friends.

But I didn’t know that I could lean on the people of the intertubes for real support and a real sense of community. Yeah, I’ve helped others out in their times of need.

But this week, the internet held my hair while I puked.

In the few short days it’s taken me to strip down and expose my own BritBrit c-section scar, I’ve been lifted up like a meth-head holding up Ted Haggard’s nutsack.

I’ve learned, just in these last few days of exposure, that wanting things and seeing what I truly have, kind of sort of go together.

I don’t want Little Bill’s Saddle Oxfords.

I’m very OK sitting in my house, watching my TV, happy to have the house and the TV and the lappy and the husband and the kiddies to enjoy them with.

Thank you dear internets and all of my old friends and new friends. One is silver, and the other’s a diamond-encrusted pimp cup.

Tagged as: exposure, Family, Friends, internet