- If you say a person's name backwards three times in a row, it will make them think of you. So, no hard evidence to back this one up, but like the over the shoulder salt toss, it really can't hurt, eh? mooB mooB, mooB mooB, mooB mooB. My dog TOTALLY just came over and sat next to me on the couch. Try it, report back.
- If I buy condoms, the sex gods will punish my hubris and I won't get any. This curse does not seem to be the full 7 year curse of the broken mirror, but it can last a staggeringly long time. Which made the condoms handed to me by multiple Trojan reps at Virgin Festival such an excellent sign. The universe was clearly telling me to get on with it! Sadly, said condoms were not retrieved from my friend's backpack, so I'm back to square one. If the Rev is reading, please send my (wear if you) care package ASAP!
- If you declare a piece of jewelry to be your favorite, you will lose it. O.K., this may be more of a belief in Murphy's Law than a true superstition, but you really don't want to debate me, do you? Not with this compelling bit of evidence.
I bought a pair of earrings at a street fair in Melbourne, Australia in January, 1992. I don't remember the exact price, but it was my last day in Australia and I definitely didn't have much money left -- so $10 or less. Simple, whimsical, and predominantly yellow. That was odd, since I've owned about 3 yellow pieces of clothing in my entire life. But they spoke to me and wearing them never failed to make me happy.
So, although these earrings were special, I never said out loud that they were my favorite pair of earrings. Tougher task than it sounds because people always noticed them and asked where I bought them. So, I became complacent. I've had these earrings for 15 years -- a lifetime and then some for $10 jewelry. Can you see where this is going? I told a co-worker who complimented them that they were hands down, my favorite earrings ever. I wanted to take it back the minute I said it. However, I didn't want afore-mentioned co-worker to think I was truly nuts. So I hoped that the universe wasn't listening. Ha.
Two days later, I went down to the 17th Street Farmer's Market to buy a bracelet from Anna. [She's marvelous -- go buy something]. This was a special bracelet, my chosen color, made just for me. So I wear my bracelet home and realize that it is the exact same color as the decoration on my favorite earrings. Hooray -- TWO slices of matching happy. I don my earrings and head out for the day. Not much of day, to be sure, but sparklier because I am resplendent. Even my friend Flat Water Jodi (yes, I will explain that nickname in a later post) notes my uncharacteristically put together appearance. Then, it happens. My right earring falls off. Fortunately, it heads straight for my cleavage. [Second only to attracting attention is the jewelry catching function of cleavage.] I gasp, startling the other moviegoers who have become almost stupefied by the length and pointlessness of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (it was $2, at least I wasn't robbed) and rehang my happy charm. The movie over, I take the Boom for a late night stroll and then settle in for some Blush archive reading. When I finally rouse myself to go to bed, I reach up to remove my earrings and find that one is gone. Oh cursed day! I retrace my walking steps twice, but to no avail and I know that as I scan the ground. Gone. Payment exacted for complacency.
So, if you see my wearing my brand new bracelet, please feel free to ask me where I got it, but don't expect any declarations of love. This is just a bracelet.
Ooh - you can see my square freckle! Way square-r in person!!
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