So Much To DO!

Went in to panic mode tonight realizing that I didnt have my dress for the wedding yet. Blick. Messaged Owen and told him to call me after work. Perfect plan, completely perfect. We got drinks and dinner from the SMARMIEST waiter. I had the veal (mmm baby veal, kept in little boxes, so wrong and yet…) and as dinner was served the the drinks were flowing we got to play bitchfest ’04!
We bitched about the food (which was actually very good, just fraught with end-of-the-night kitchen issues), hair, clothes, people with zero self respect, money, dating, sushi, dicks, moving, the future, and traffic. Not necessarily in that order.
To balance it out we promised to take a trip together, he assured me he would help me buy a dress for the wedding and match my hair to it, laughed at how goofy the world is and marvelled at the sheer coincidence of our friendship (the hairdresser I had an appointment with was sick, so they switch me around and set me up with him. sigh, happy).
We drank too much, ate too much, smoked too much. I needed it.
Came home and went on a treasure hunt to gather up the little bits, cards, photos, and mementos that will be packaged up and sent out east before the move. I figure it’s the best way to keep the things that are important to my heart safe in case the moving truck falls in a river. Of course the UPS truck could be consumed by aliens, but hey, contributing photos of my dad and paris snow domes to the alien research cause is the least I can do.
I’m up too late, La Reina was actually around and I wanted to talk to her cool ass before I went to bed. Must sleep, big day ahead of me. Fingers crossed.

Karma

So a coworker and I keep talking about brownies and how we totally deserve them. She told me that after talking with me about brownies she went up to Wedge (the local feel-good, organic, fair-trade, good for you co-op), saw brownies and decided to get one. It was entirely disappointing. It was too healthy or something. We decided that the sugar was all wrong. The sugar was probably organic, harvested by people who were paid a living wage and had super-standard working conditions. Feel-good sugar is not good sugar.
We want our sugar harvested by people working at gunpoint for meager wages and subsisting in conditions that 60 minutes would bust in and report about. “Fear and bad karma make for good sugar!”
Song of the week is Wild World as performed by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes (Cat Stevens’ version is nice, but…). Also, with the iPod you end up making massive random playlists for the car and Pearl Jam’s Rearview Mirror came up a little unexpectedly. I highly recommend this for any high speed, high volume driving mix you might be putting together.

scriiiiitch scraaaatch

The ring on my left hand ring finger is making me itch. Scratch…scratch…it’s getting red. could be my skin is dry, could be a reaction to the ring.
Or maybe, possibly…it could be that it’s a $.25 ring from a vending machine in the foyer of a diner. The best part about getting the ring was pumping in quarter after quarter trying to get cool things out of the machine. April kept most of the stuff, I was just charmed that this ring fit me, so I kept it.
Looks like it’s time for the world’s best eggs benedict and more vending machine shenanigans.

Low Tech Muthah

Tonight I learned how to use a sextant and I leaned what an astrolabe is.
Now I just need to get one of each and when society crumbles and the satellites fall from the sky I will be the only one able to find my way around.
GPS? I don’t need no stinkin’ GPS. It’s old school all the way, mofos!

Dear Ghengis

When you have children you take lots of pictures of them, ostensibly to preserve the precious memories. This is a lie, not a total lie, but close. You try to get in there a few good incriminating pictures. You know the ones, they’re all sweet, in the bathtub with a cowboy hat on, or shoving a pen up their nose or something along those lines.
You take these pictures because you know that in 10 or 12 good years the rebellion and betrayal kicks in. The fighting back, the bad attitude, the slamming of doors. As a parent you bide your time because you know that a couple years after the rebellion kicks in, so kicks in the dating phase. You get to meet the prospective girlfriend or boyfriend and suddenly, you have all the power you lost when the great hormone imbalance of the western hemispere kicked in. You can pull out those pictures and show them to the date.
Nice
Problem for me is, you’re not my kid and you’re not going to date (sorry about lobbing off your balls like, but you have to admit, the complete lack of humping is nice…right?).
You’re in your teen months now and rather obnoxious. Since you won’t be bringing a sweet little girl puppy home for me to meet, i thought I’d make your humilitation public as revenge for…
* destroying my sunglasses
* devouring countless rolls of toilet paper in the hallway
* chewing my underwear
* eviscerating a pillow on my bed as I slept (just how the hell did you do that??)
* chewing the tongue out of my favorite boots
* chewing my favorite sneakers
* chewing up my security blanket
* not only destroying every toy i’ve bought you but doing it in such a way that the entire floor gets covered in the excelsior
* pulling up the carpet
* eating out of the cat box
* causing a bruise the size of Kansas on my upper are. Twice. (same exact scenario both times)
* peeing on my comforter
* eating a dead bird you found in the yard and then immediately drinking out of my glass
* devouring my socks
* crawling into my lap for a hug and immediately farting (i really hate this one)
* methodically picking the fur off your stuffed animals and leaving it everywhere
* dog breath
So, here you go. Your dignity for the world to see…

I’m particularly fond of this one of you peeing. I think it captures the humiliation I’m going for.
Okay, that felt better
xoh