Sometimes, I really ought to be slapped.

And, no, I'm not saying that in any kind of bizarre sexual way. It's just that I am well aware that there are days where I'm as emotional and candid as an outcast 14 year old girl at a sleepover. Those are the days you look back on and reflect upon and wonder what was done with your testicles.

It's cool, though. I know I'm like that. I could get all pseudo-intellectual and cliche and professorial and invoke the ol' "The unexamined life is not worth living," or I could go with pop wisdom and slap a "Mama told me there'd be days like this" sticker on it and move right along.

I believe I'll go with the latter.

I had a good, long conversation with Sally last night. Remember her? Of course you do. She's doing well, back in Chicago. She's pursuing the improv, too, and all that. Good stuff.

We were talking about recent events in our lives. I told her all about my situation, and that I felt bad about writing the letter when I did, that I often feel bad about my habit of acting out emotionally, only to realize a bit later that I'm being unfair.

She told me exactly what I needed to hear, saying I was lucky to realize that. That most people aren't so self-aware, and now that I know that I can stay on top of it and behave better next time. It was very sweet of her.

She also told me about one of her recent fiascos. She met a guy through JDate, the internet personal ads for the Jewish kids. They hung out for about a week, having fun, getting together three times in six days. Then, suddenly, he stopped calling her.

She got the Silent Dumping, too.

"You know," she said. "It just would have been nice if he had called me to say that he wasn't going to call me anymore."

Amen.

If there's one little thing that I think I can take from all the recent silliness and distill into one little nugget of wisdom, it's this: I will never, ever do that to someone. It may be the easiest thing to do, but, honestly, it's also just a bit cruel.

Good people, if you ever find yourself in the situation where you have to distribute some dumping, just be a grown up about it and rip off the fucking band-aid. In the end, it's better for everybody.

And that, hopefully, is that. Case closed, end of discussion.

Until the next time I lose my testicles.

Oh, and...

Partly to counterbalance the lack of rollicking wackiness in yesterday's entry, and partly because I'm a shameless self-promoting whore, I want to link back to some older entries that were pure, good old fashioned FadeIn style fun.

Time Travel - This entry includes handy instructions for traveling back in time.

Music! - This one includes a link to a song I wrote about a failed painter named Adolf Hitler. It's in horrible taste, and it features me singing.

Perry - At one point in my life, my job was hugging people.

The Garlic Entry - This time, it was my physical, as opposed to social clumsiness that resulted in my embarassment and your amusement.

Classified - Bill Clinton and George W. get to talking via Instant Messenger.

Interview - A fake interview I conducted with a teen boy scientist who was doing research into why girls seem to like assholes. Someone signed my guestbook telling me that I was doing "important work" but I couldn't tell if they were just playing along.

Memos - The origin of the Charlie's Angels movie. Sometimes I wonder if this entry has the potential to ruin my career before it starts, but I like it too much to delete it.

Britney's Future - I set this little story in 2004. I can't believe I wrote it in 2000. It doesn't seem to be coming true yet.