Stop, Drop and Roll, Bitch

This blog will be long, but be patient because it ends in a life lesson for us all. (which is, Don't Go To Leslie's House)

So, I had this sort-of relationship with this guy named Josh. I don't want to go into it, because it's horribly lame at this point to dredge it up again. Needless to say, he crushed my already broken heart at the most vulnerable moment he could find. My friends, who had to watch me cry, hate him with a fiery passion that I can't even begin to match. I want to hate him but I find it hard because I guess that's just not my way. However, listening to my girlfriends say with such venom that he is a bastard who should rot in hell, well... I'm not saying it's music to my ears or anything, but it certainly does take the sting out of the whole thing. It's nice to be loved so much that when someone hurts you they instantly become the biggest loser on the planet. Afterall, who wants to break Cookie's heart? (hoping the answer to that is no one)

But I digress. I had a few things of his that Leslie felt that we should burn. I didn't want to burn his things, I just wanted to send them back and be civil. All my girlfriends told me to burn it. All of them. "Burn it! It'll make you feel better!" So finally, I just decided... "You know, it's over. There is nothing left to say, nothing left to do. I'm ready to let go and get on with my life, and if it makes my friends happy to have a bonfire, then damnit, let's have a fucking bonfire!"

Angie requested to come. Sorry, Angie, I forgot to call you.

So I go to Leslie's last night around 11pm, and after watching the rest of the Emily Rose movie, and then this singing vagina movie from the 70's, we finally wander outside to say goodbye with fire. First we started with the paper products. I stood away from the fire to be safe. Well, that didn't help.

I caught on fire.

I hate to just blurt it out that way, but I don't know how else to say it. I looked down and the bottom of my jeans were on fire. I tried to bat it out. Nicole and Leslie tried to bat it out. We were all screaming. Finally when I realized it wasn't GOING OUT, I hit the ground. We got it out and then all stood (except me, sitting in the dirt) around with wide eyes. Leslie administered first aid (Thank you, Leslie.) while I sat there and realized that I had just tried to officially get this man out of my life and instead had SET MYSELF ON FUCKING FIRE.

I don't know what that means.

We resumed with the burning, cause at this point, we had to. Leslie did the honors for me, and how she got that close to the raging fire and didn't even have a spark hit her, and I stood three feet away and burst into flames, I'll never know. All I know, is that the fringe on the bottom of your jeans and fire are not mixey things. Just a little tip from me to you.

I was pissed because the whole point of the exercise was to purge him, and now I ruined a pair of jeans and will most likely have a lovely scar on my leg. Getting Over a Man, Cookie Style. That's the name of my next book. But, the burn isn't as bad as it could have been, and my jeans can be shorts. The point of this story, is that I SET MYSELF ON FIRE. Can I be a rock star now?

Since we're sick, we kept joking about it. Leslie said the month (month?!) of pain I would feel would be worth the burning of the objects. Nicole said my jeans could be capris. Scotty asked me if I got gangrene and had to chop my leg off, if he could have a toe for his keychain. (well duh, of course you can) and then I had to have a cigarette. Cause nothing says "Thank God I didn't die by fire" like lighting a cigarette.

Did I mention that Leslie lives next door to a fire station? Did any handsome firemen come running out to save me? No, no they did not. I set myself on fire and I didn't even get a date out of it.

However, on the drive home, still shaking, I was flipping through radio stations and heard Mr. Bob Dylan and stopped to hear:

"You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?"

How does it feel? To let the last of something go... to realize you're getting on with your life when you didn't think you could... to be ready for it to be over.... to realize someone wasn't all you thought they were... to set yourself on fire in the process....

Overall? It feels pretty damn good.

And did I mention...

THAT I SET MYSELF ON FIRE?!?! (awesome)