Tuesday, May 13, 2008

My BIG Buff and Other Stuff

Oh geez. I’ve had a weird couple of days. Allow me to elaborate, as you all breathlessly await:

I was privy to a spectacular! moment involving my 2 ½ year old nephew, McDonald’s, a urinal, and poop. Yep. The little tike crawled into the urinal, (mind you this ISN’T a toilet) sat in all the pee and germies, then proceeded to take a number twosie in it. My sister, his OCD freak mama who couldn’t take him into the bathroom because of her own germaphobic issues, had to go in there and clean up the mess (which, really, involved only pulling his pants up, stifling a scream, and running out the door). She came out, hyperventilating/sobbing, chanting, “I have to go to the hospital, I have to go the hospital, hospital, hospital…” She really thought she caught some suuuuuper contagious disease in there, like maybe Diabetes. After my sisters and I all shared a good laugh (at her expense, of course) and some Purel, we left before the Mickey D staff found out it was one of our kids who pooped in the urinal. Madness, I tell you. Never a dull moment with my sisters.

I have officially trumped my previous most embarrassing moment. I’d tell you what it was, except it was so underwhelming I don’t even remember it. This, though, I’ll never forget. Last night I was (yes, again) benzoed out. I wasn’t wearing any pants or annnnny underwear. And my bro-in-law was over. I wasn’t aware. So I wandered out there. And just stood there. And I’m pretty sure he saw. Everything. I’ve been doing the sob/cry thing, you know, where you’re like hysterically laughing, but that only fuels the madness more, and you can’t stop crying, and pretty soon you can’t breathe and you just can’t remember why you’re not wearing any pants in the first place and why was I out there just standing there doing nothing and he just saw meeeeeeee--! Yeah. Rough. I’ll never be the same again. Doubtful that he will, either.

I’m in a bit of a pickle, too. I haven’t done any modeling for a long time, as in, nearly five, six months. My agency only knew that I was “sick,” and they told me they’d tell clients who requested me I was not available until I felt up to it – they also told me I needed to gain some weight (shock!!!) before I came back. So, naturally, I just never called. My treatment team has not been anything less than explicit that modeling is something I cannot EVER return to. Doom to me if I do. So, you know, I accepted it, whatevs, and moved on. But they called me last week and left a voicemail, just to check up on me, and I promptly repressed the memory and moved on. But they called again last night; a client I worked with a lot in the past is requesting me for a runway show, and I just panicked and deleted the message again. Well, this afternoon, when I got into work, there was an email for me in my inbox from one of my agent’s assistants asking what’s up, am I available for jobs, etc? I have the hardest time just telling them to GO AWAY. And they never do. They’re like white on rice or me on Will Smith my husband or something. And I feel weird and nervous and, like, hunted. Is that weird?

So, yeah. Poopy issues, bein’ seen in the buff stuff, modeling shenanigans…weird. Yes indeed.

13 comments:

jana bananas said...

Better watch it with the benzos, chica! If you're so spaced out that you're walking around with no undies and pants (and you're not completely alone), then I think the dose is just a wee bit too high. Wow, what an awkward situation!

brie said...

JB, you're totally right. The thing is, it's a pretty low dose, but medication really impacts me for some reason. I think I'll cut down to half a pill. :)

Abby said...

Oh, Brie! You make me laugh and laugh... I'm glad I'm not in a school computer lab right now; if I were, I would be attracting attention. How do you manage to have all these adventures, one right after another? Also... so, I understand that saying no is neither fun nor easy. But... couldn't it be even a little bit fun to essentially tell the modeling agency people that you're way too good for them anyway? (Oh, excuse my split infinitive.) Maybe?

brie said...

Abbers-
It's so you that you apologize for a split infinitive! That right there has me roaring at my desk! I loves you! And yeah, wouldn't it be so cool (and utterly blog-worthy) to tell them that they suck and I rock and to leave me alone...? Maybe I'll do some imagery about it in therapy. ;)

KC Elaine said...

this whole thing leaves me smiling - and yes, I think you could do a kick-ass job of telling them no. I'll write you soon. THANK YOU - you know why.

Emily said...

Wow... walking around with no undies and pants on benzos? Sounds like an interesting moment. :)

I think you'd do a good job saying no to the modeling agency. You can do it!

heather said...

I justlaughed so hard I almost peed in my pants...thank goodness I'm home from work now! The whole story with your sister's kid was great....as well as the benzo-weirdness...how incredibly embarrassing! I'd never be the same either! And about the modeling...I hear how hard it is to tell them to F-off......but seriously, maybe you'd be doing them a favor by saying that you've quit modeling because you want to set a good example for today's women???? Hmmm...maybe that sounds kinda lame, but hey....I'm sure you'll think of something better....way better.

Devon said...

I do love how you make me laugh! Hopefully you're doing a little bit of that too. Also, hopefully we can play soon! I miss my Brie :(

Tanya said...

Wow Brie, must I say only you can make me smile that big when I read this computer screen. LOL...and I agree...it would be great to tell them to go away. Tell them your too busy trying to LIVE your life to model anymore. Hugs...I pray that one day you will have the strength to do just that. I have no delerious images of it ever being an easy thing to do though...so hugs, and props to you for just ignoring them.

Anonymous said...

my name is misty....(your sister) and I don;t know how NOT to be anonymous so I am telling you who I am. I wish you could just write my journal for me because I truly cannot write about incidents such as this in my life. You know I don't like the word, "trigger" but this blog totally and 100% set me off yet again. I think I need counseling now, but what do I say to the the therapist?! "My 2 1/2 year old hudded in Mickey D's and now I can't control my thoughts?"

brie said...

Oh Misty. You dear, dear sister 'o mine. Thank you for making me laugh. And TRUST ME: I'm sure there's plenty for you to talk about in therapy. ;)

emo said...

Brie,

good news, Brysy told me about the incident but says he was too busy playing his psp that he did not even notice you missing your pants but wondered why you didn't seem to want to talk to him. I guess psp's are good for something!

zubeldia said...

Brie, you crack me up!

I feel hunted when people are trying to contact me, too. I think it's a great idea to tell them that you're not interested, though :-)
Love Z