- 31 October 2004 -
Aaugh! Quick! Before we run out of October!
Today's
adventure. (Requisite pictures.)
What else? The red shoes still please me. I go to work, I swim, I cook. The other night on
the way home there was a guy masturbating on the train, but no one else seemed to notice.
The sweatpants are a dead giveaway.
I am going to do something interesting with myself ANY DAY NOW, really. In the meantime I
have been cooking a lot, and reading the third book of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle
trilogy. I think I will attempt homemade caramel sauce and sour cream ice cream for
Wednesday's Top Model extravaganza. I think I will attempt copious amounts of alcohol for
Tuesday's election. O God!
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- 19 October 2004 -
Let's not talk about the election that is (God-willing!) coming up in
(HOLY SHIT) a mere two weeks as I am already worked up into a lovely
froth about it and all I do at work all day is obsessively read news and
blogs (pfeh, blogs!) while Air America plays in the background all day
every day OH MY GOD.
For the record, today I am wearing a shirt that reads:
Darnielle Vanderslice 2004
A LESS TOTALLY FUCKED AMERICA
Hee. Anyway. Yesterday a customer paid with a custom-designed check
that warned in fine print down by the signature line:
If I'm Not A Big Black Man
Don't Cash This Check!!
Heh.
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- 18 October 2004 -
Oh! Union Square! DSW shoe store! Grand opening! Shoes! Shoes!
Clearance shoes! Shoes!
You know, you can get a membership-type-arrangement there, and when you
spend enough money you get a gift certificate. It is possible you are
already halfway there, in fact! If you are me! If you are me, then you
have one new pair of cute red slightly ducky buckly shoes and one new
pair of superdiscounted clunky brown leather fancypants Mephisto clogs
(and with their purchase has departed what little straight-person cred
you had remaining... good-bye, good-bye!) and you are most pleased.
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- 16 October 2004 -
I bring you now a series of photographs entitled Why Does Squid Look Like That??
Jon Stewart on Crossfire
is possibly the best thing I have ever seen. Oh my god.
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- 15 October 2004 -
Whatever everyone else had over the past few weeks finally caught up with me a couple of
days ago and was apparently unimpressed with my claim to a superhuman immune system
and general
indestructibility. I tried my favored technique of downing an entire half-gallon carton of
grapefruit juice in the space of a workday, and I think it helped the bug on its way, but
didn't totally conquer it. Also I got a lot of funny looks when people saw the big carton
with a straw Scotch-taped to its spout on my desk. Not that I don't get a lot of funny
looks anyway, with my Dance Like A Robot and Dance Like My Knees Don't Bend and Dance At The
Copy Machine. So I took yesterday off and lounged about drinking tea and reading and
drinking more tea. Last night Tiffany left for a short trip and was going to call me when
she arrived, and apparently DID call me at some point, but I had no recollection of it as I
was asleep and it seems I only woke up enough to bludgeon the phone into silence and stash
it under my pillow to prevent further interruptions.
Plans for Lonely Weekend include getting lots of vegetables at the Saturday market and
making lots of soup stock to stow in the freezer, buying organizational nonsense and
cleaning the apartment, seeing Team America with work friends, looking for new shoes,
selecting a new haircut.
Today I sent my future self an email; you can follow suit here should you wish to.
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- 11 October 2004 -
I have corrected the split infinitive in the previous entry. Please
forgive me.
This morning while unpacking the computers that had come back from being
repaired at Apple I discovered two notecards in one of the boxes.
The first read:
Josh Walters
heard the killer rhym [sic] that goes "please don't let me fall asleep
cause Meranda Smith will creep through my window to my room, stab me
with a broken broom. When he woke up his light cut off and so did his.
Meranda Smith was waiting under his bed.
The second had two columns full of names, one labeled "Die" and the
other labeled "Helping." The last two names in the Helping column were
Candy Man and Bloody Murder.
I sent it to Found
Magazine.
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- 8 October 2004 -
Apparently this morning sometime between when I left and when Tiffany woke up the cats
shut themselves in the bathroom. She heard them meowing and looked around the apartment
and finally realized they were in the bathroom with the light on, yowling.
Let me repeat that.
BOTH cats SHUT THEMSELVES in the BATHROOM.
What the hell? How? Why? How can they be simultaneously so smart and so dense? I fear
them.
I ordered a new swimsuit the other day (perhaps less than entirely wise, since I don't get
paid again until next Friday. I have had to make IOUs out of Post-Its that say "I owe
Monica 1 (one) Togi" because she keeps treating me to lunch.) because the old suit that I
bought in Ecuador (after not packing one because, you know, who really wants to snorkel
with sea lions in the Galapagos? Or float idly down an Amazonian tributary between thick
walls of green jungle full of monkey noise? Oh, right, me.) gave up. It just... expired.
Where there once was a
fitted and stretchy
swim-garment there is now a slightly discolored and very baggy sack. It is a sad state of
affairs. The new one professes to be made of some space-age material that will not
discolor right away or turn
quite so promptly into a sack, and I hope that this is true. They claim that the fabric
is environmentally friendly, but the fact that they need to point it out
specifically makes me suspect it is actually made of the pelts of
brightly-colored synthetic baby seals
or something similarly wrong. Whatever, I like to swim. Especially when I let
whomever is swimming in the lane next to me have a head-start and then effortlessly catch up
and pass them. Even more especially when it is a big athletic guy wearing special
hand-paddles to speed him up and super-aquadynamic swim shorts. Me and my saggy turquoise
sack can take you. Pfft.
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- 7 October 2004 -
Welcome to Fall! Please enjoy your sweater.
I am enjoying mine very much. Also, fuzzy bathrobe, two down
comforters, knee socks, velvet jacket, and hoodies. This is my very
favorite time of year and soon it will just be painfully cold and that
will be sad. For now, fall.
Speaking of the knee socks, today I am mildly dressed up for no
particular reason: jean skirt, black knee socks and black shoes, black
dressy shirt, earrings. One of my co-workers remarked: "Hey! You're
all dressed up today, wearing those earrings, and the... socks!"
What does that mean? What must I normally look like if SOCKS make me
classy?
Speaking of work, last night was the first Big All-Company Meeting that
we've had while I've been working here. Everyone stays after work for
an hour or so and there is a lot of beer and soda and pie. Punch and
pie, you guys! Pie! I had two pieces of pie and one beer and the
owners told us how great we all are and how we will get Christmas
bonuses this year because it is not as dire as it was this time last
year. This would have been more convincing had a group of guys not
stolen six digital video cameras 15 minutes before the meeting started.
Alas.
Speaking of cameras, I will try to take some more pictures soon.
Speaking of me, I am doing very little. It doesn't bother me too much
(yet) because I am as ever (with a few exceptions. years. whatever.)
filled with a deep and inexplicable conviction that I am capable of
essentially anything. I know this does not always come across in my
demeanor, but it is embarrassingly true. My quietness is born not of
insecurity but of a great deal of unfounded, judgmental, all-consuming
self-confidence. Sweeeeeeeeeet! Now that I have confessed that, I am
going back to work. Where I do nothing interesting or terribly
productive. But I WILL. LATER. You know.
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