Ghost towns have anniversaries, too, and today is the eleventh anniversary of your friendly “ghost-neighborhood” Upside-down Hippopotamus! Still featuring your favorite wacky “ghost-neighbors”–Rob, Goblin Foo, and moi–two of whom are eleven years older, while I have not changed a molecule! Maybe because I am a “ghost” and do not have molecules! Note to self: reconsider this entire paragraph before hitting “publish.”
Note to self: reconsider the entire previous eleven years.
Note to self: ha ha.
Somewhere around the birth of UDH, I had a freelance job producing an audio series by some finance guy, based on the book he had supposedly written. The book was brilliant, but the man was not;* while he could not hold a conversation about current events and had to have basic concepts about living in the world explained to him, and was not particularly articulate on tape, and was increasingly depressive over his pending divorce, he was at least gorgeous to look at. He also claimed to have something like $100 million under management, which sounded impressive enough at the time that I questioned the justice of the universe in showering abundance on such an apparent dimwit.
Today, it occurred to me to check up on him, and I discovered that he is now some sort of Christian investment guru (“Shoving camels through eyes of needles since 2002!”) with $3.6 billion under management. He is still inarticulate, if the videos on his website are any indication. He is still gorgeous. He has remarried and produced six kids.
I suppose my life has changed a great deal in eleven years, as well, but I am not thirty-six times more successful. My one child, an aging Boston terrier, pretends she is deaf and doddering when I tell her to do anything but appears at the speed of a neutrino when she hears her treat bag crinkle two floors down.
Note to self: I am, at least, gorgeous.