“Drive a pencil through your eye.”
“I hate you.”
“Life is so marvelous!”
“You are a suck up. Shut it.”
I’m totally over that now. (Lies.) Okay, but I’m not as bad as I used to be. To illustrate, if I still lived at home I don’t think my parents would fantasize as much about little green men coming to steal away with me in the middle of the night. They might finally confront me about snitching all the ice cream, but I don’t think they’d have to ask at the end of every day which one of me might come out tomorrow to play. I bet that’s a relief.
However, I still have moods. Not moods of the Sally Field playing Sybil kind, but more like “I feel like wearing a scarf around my head with big hoops while eating hummus to simulate the Mediterranean” kind. You know how certain people can pull off any kind of a look they want? If they want to dress bohemian one day, they can do it and look legit. The very next day they can put on a dress suit and nobody does a double-take. They can wear hats to the horse races, boots to the rodeo, flowers on their lapels to church, and they can manage an up-do for a wedding or a ponytail for a daily workout. Regardless, they totally pull it off. Unfortunately, not everyone can do this and so you end up with two different groups of people: those who can pull off any look, and those who can’t. Make that three categories. The third being that you think you can pull off any look, which you can’t, but you try anyway. Care to take a stab at where I fit? Bingo! Category 3 it is. It’s such a drag. I think this is why I spend so much time in my pajamas.
But GUESS WHAT? (enter: Billy Graham) I have good news! I’ve figured out my problem. All this time I thought my category 3 predicament was hopeless, like I was just born this way and need to accept myself for who I am - kind of like being in a beauty pageant and winning Miss Congeniality because you’re just not “Queen” quality. Not that I could ever be in a pageant or hope to even win Miss Congeniality (Miss “How Did You Get In Here??” maybe, but not Miss Congeniality) but that is not the point! The point is, a couple of months ago I saw an interview with Beyonce who was promoting her new CD titled “I Am…Sasha Fierce”. In the interview she explained that Sasha Fierce is her ALTER EGO. Here’s what she says:
“Sasha Fierce is the fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side that comes out when I’m working and when I’m on the stage.”
As it turns out, alter egos are apparently all the rage. Eminem, you know, that rapper with no talent who makes more money than me for wearing bad clothes, too much bling and swearing on stage? Yeah, him. Apparently he created an alter ego he named “Slim Shady”, something he was inspired to do while sitting on the crapper. No lie. And that’s when it hit me. (Not the urge to go to the bathroom - duh!) but the realization that it’s not more scarves that I need, it’s an ALTER EGO. That way when someone looks at me and goes, “Um, you look ridiculous – nice try though,” I could be like, “Word up, I’M not ridiculous, that’s my alter ego, Shaniqua. Take THAT.”
Then I remembered this Seinfeld episode where George decides he wants to go by “T-Bone”. Things go awry, and before he can make his new identity known to the world he gets labeled as “Koko The Monkey”. I don’t want this to happen to me, mostly because “Koko” doesn’t suit me and I don’t even like bananas. So here’s the other good news!! (please - hold the applause) I want YOU to come up with a name for my alter ego. I mean it, you can do this. I have total faith in you. But just in case, I’m going to go brainstorm a little myself. You have through the weekend, and by Monday I’ll decide my alter ego name.
Maybe I need to take a potty break and see what comes to me.