Alexandra Vaillancourt

Dateline Boston — As I was taking out the trash this morning, I noticed a big, fat earthworm on the sidewalk. I thought about picking it up and putting it in the garden, but I didn’t actually do it. I had a couple of opportunities to save the worm, as I made multiple trips, what with recycling and all. For some reason, I didn’t. When I got home this afternoon, there was the worm, dried up and dead. All because I didn’t take one second out of my so-called busy life to help a creature who couldn’t help itself. I’m sorry, Worm. I won’t let that happen again.

Dateline Boston — I want to be famous. Oprah famous. That means I’m so famous Oprah invites me to be a guest on her show. I have three scenarios in which I could become famous on Oprah. One is for being a really good author, one is for surviving a shark attack and one is for saving a small child. Each scenario gets longer and more detailed.

Dateline Boston — Unlike most people I know, I love visiting health care professionals. After a recent visit to the dentist’s office, I realized why. Who knew I could have an epiphany from getting a tooth filled?

When I was 38 years old, I had an “almost mid-life” crisis while shopping. Shopping at 38 is so different than shopping at 18. I’ve noted the occasions that are Not Cool with (NC).

It’s been a whole year since I started writing for thefrontpageonline.com. How time flies! Can it really be 52 weeks since I began telling readers what was going on Inside My Head?

Go into your favorite coffee shop. Choose a table by a window that’s half in the sun, half in the shade. Place backpack in chair to secure your space. Order cookie, “on a plate,” so they won’t put it into a bag. Order tea, requesting they leave “this much” room for milk. Indicate amount with thumb and forefinger.

I’m a sentimental person. Almost everything I have in my apartment has a special meaning to me. I can usually tell you where something came from and how long I’ve had it. Let’s take a tour of my special things, shall we?

A few nights ago, I went to a one-time dance class (free to YMCA members, $10 for guests, $60 value) to learn the dance from Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” video. My friend Melissa told me about it; we had missed the “Learn Michael Jackson’s Thriller” dance class a few months ago.

Recently, a high school girl in my state committed suicide. She was new in town, an immigrant from Ireland. She was quiet and sweet. She had a boyfriend. She was bullied by a group of girls, mercilessly, through texts, online and in person. Much of the talk centered around the supposed “rules” of teen dating. A classmate commented that the girls who bullied were jealous of the new student.

Question: When you think about going to the chiropractor, what comes to mind? The word “adjustment”? Having your back cracked? Getting your neck snapped, with the chance of being killed as a result? Well, that’s what came to my mind before I started going to Aaron the chiropractor, on the recommendation of my friend and massage therapist Tracy. Seems that my back was “tight,” and maybe Aaron could help.