- I feel unbelievably boring. Work, eat, sleep, happy fun fun rainbow sprinkle time, watch Fight Club, repeat. I wouldn't mind running away from home. Just for a little while. Or however long a round-trip jaunt to Estonia would take. By rowboat.
- Years ago, when I still lived with my parents, I told a telemarketer they weren't available to come to the phone because they had moved to Paraguay.
- My hair is tangled and has fuzzy fleece blanket bits in it. Very attractive and professional.
- I can't seem to stop listening to the Six Feet Under soundtracks. This is in part because I can't find my Mika CD. I think it's under the front seat of the car, but the only time I think to look for it is when I'm hurtling down the street. Not optimal investigatory mission time.
- Tomorrow I'm going to a wedding shower for two lezbins I know.
- I haven't had nearly enough water today.
- I convinced King V to order pizza for lunch. Mmmm, free food.
- I want and need to buy some sandals.
- My feet are hot.
- I have yet to buy my bicycle.
- It's around 70 degrees today.
- I have no plans for the weekend, aside from the aforementioned baby shower and Weight Watchers in the morning, which should be a ROUSING success after eating pizza today and all manner of crap earlier in the week. Whim. Per.
- I hate diets, food plans, calorie counting, feeling guilty for being "bad," and hearing the Weight Watchers clerk shamefully whisper, "You've gained a little this week." FUCK. OFF.
- I've basically abandoned therapy. I tried someone new after I stopped seeing the racist therapist, but decided to stop going after my second visit. The therapist was nice, but not the best match for me. Besides, I'm up to my eyeballs in bills that need to be paid before muscular men with unibrows and Louisville Sluggers show up at my door 'just to talk for a few minutes' and I'm tired of fretting before and after a session about how much this hour cost, or how much my next bill is going to be, or wondering if and when my insurance company is going to stop paying for visits. I'm also tired of trying to connect with a therapist the way I did with Miss Gone to Texas. Who knows -- I might be on someone else's couch next week (dirty!) or I might not try therapy again for months. I definitely need to find another lesbian therapist. I don't need someone who is tolerant (grrr) of gays, has a gay friend, or really likes Ellen. I need an Actual Homosexual™.
- Though I've never been to New York, I feel like I could live in Brooklyn.
- I slept like crap last night. I went to bed around 9:30 PM (probably my first mistake) and was wide awake by 1:30 AM. I quite literally tossed and turned the rest of the night. Every time I woke up, I wondered if I was ever going to fall asleep. I hate nights like that.
- The building I live in has five rental units. The attic apartment has recently been vacated. I'm trying to decide if I want to move upstairs (No more upstairs neighbors!) or if I want to stay where I am. Selling point: Upstairs unit might have a human-sized tub. Shower stall no more! Stay-where-I-am-until-I-die-or-the-building-burns-down point: Furniture is heavy.
- I've lined up one, and possibly two, pet- and house-sitting gigs for this summer.
- I fell in love with this bed on Etsy earlier today:
It's handmade by artisans in Oregon (Hello, conversation piece!) and comparable in price to the Porto bed that Crate & Barrel sells (Look at me comparison shop! Next I'll be clipping coupons.)
NOT handmade by Oregonian artisans. Also has more accessory pieces than motherfucking Barbie.
2 comments:
I asked a friend if I should reveal my super-secret blog identity
Let me be the first to second that motion. I'm pretty sure that it's standard operating procedure to Google the names of job applicants these days, and the last thing you need is your potential boss at BigMoney, Inc. reading about happy fun fun rainbow sprinkle time. Unless you're REALLY content at Verbose & Co. Beware. Google sees all, and Google remembers all.
Years ago, when I still lived with my parents, I told a telemarketer that they weren't available to come to the phone because they had moved to Paraguay.
I once told a radio station survey-taker that we were Amish and didn't own a radio. I hung up before they could question the telephone.
Furniture is heavy.
True. But you only have to move it once. If you ever have to move out of the top floor, just push it all down the stairs or out the window. The stuff that doesn't break is the stuff Jeebus wants you to have.
*snort* Love the Amish thing. Price-less. :) Also, when I moved from my last apartment, which was on the second floor, I threw everything I could over the balcony, including my mattress. My mom thought I was kidding when I told her to pitch it and gave me this look like "It's going to break!" IT'S A MATTRESS. HEAVE. HO. WOMAN. :)
Good advice on the future job/Google thing. Hadn't really thought about that. V & Co. is a pretty nice place to work. King V is a chatterbox, but the benefits outweigh my desire to put duct tape over his mouth some days. :)
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