Grow some.

A person who has known me for MANY years recently commented upon seeing me, "Huh. I always think you're taller."

"What?"

"Whenever I picture you in my head, you're like, way tall."

"I'm 5'7", and have always been, since you've known me...and seen me...frequently...over the last hundred years."

"Yeah, but in my head you're maybe six feet tall?"

What the hell does one say to that? I'm sorry I don't meet your dillusional expectations? I'm sorry I'm my actual height? I'm sorry my height disappoints! I'm sorry it doesn't fluctuate!

These are the things I think about late at night as I'm drifting off to sleep.*

In other news, I'm going to hit up this space more often. Apparently my friends don't like e-mail, they'd rather read my misadventures under a 70's television character persona. And imagine that I am Jan Brady? An eight foot tall Jan Brady?

*Other things that I think about, or should I say scare the living shit out of me RIGHT when I'm drifting off to sleep:

That woman who peeks around the corner and yells, "Are you HONNNNNGRY?" in that damn cereal commercial.