Happy Resurrection Of Christ, to those of you who find these things important, and to those of you who don't, Happy Eat The Bunny Ears Day.
(If you hadn't already gathered: today is bunny-ears-day for me.)
(or mini-eggs. but those are in my desk at work.)
...
I'm watching American Pie 2, and trying very desparately not to laugh, because this is stupid and pandering and rife with stereotypes--but I am weak, and have few problems with watching fake-lesbians torture college freshmen. If I were a better woman, I would be outraged and let everyone know it--but christ, there's something incredibly amusing about seeing a trumpet up that boy's ass.
...
This movie is making me stupider by the minute.
...
Easter Dinner time--and if the Evil-Stepmother-To-Be is cooking, then it's overdone ham and something disgustingly german on the menu!
Posted by ferragamogirl at 05:10 PM March 30, 2002
In my last post, I asked how parents managed to fit everything in--kids and jobs and homes and extended families etc--and last night, I discovered the answer:
They don't go out drinking with their best girlfriend and then eat a meal that probably shortens the average lifespan by at least a week or two, come home and drunkenly fondle the lover, then fall into dubious sleep for ten or eleven hours.
So went my Friday night, and yours?
I have to say, it was an excellent time had--Blondie and I hit Fado to get boozed up before heading down the street to Mitchelli's for late-night italian and...more booze before stumbling to the car (and I do mean stumbled--half way to the car, Blondie fell in a hole or a crevice or god-knows-what and spent a few minutes half-laughing and half-sobbing--For a split second, I was afraid I'd have to carry her to the car, or call a cab to get her the rest of the half block...But let us remember that I was, indeed, rather sloshed.)
We did a great job of harassing our only slightly-cute waiter, and for the most part he went along--until I asked him to marry Blondie, which sent her into a fit of mad-blushing, and he muttered something about already having four wives...In my recent and relative sobriety, I'd forgotten how, when one is drunk-ish, all manner of things of things are so funny, maybe even funny enough to write down, requiring a pen-request and something to write on...
Which in our case meant hassling our forgiving waiter some more for a decent pen and some extra napkins--here's a delightful selection of quotes from our evening:
Me, pretending to be Blondie talking to her Mom (I know, already it's not funny, and trust me--it'll only get worse): "Mom, remember when we talked about using code words? I've soiled myself, and I need your to come do my laundry."
Imaginary Mom: WTF??
(Cue Blondie laughing so hard she actually wets herself. Or threatened to, but these are not empty threats, it's happened before. In the car. I thought she was kidding! Who knew.)
...
(this is one of Blondie's selections)
(While eating salad)
Me: Ouch!
Blondie: What??
Me: I just got this stabbing pain in my--wait a minute, you don't need to hear the rest of this. This is just silly.
...
(ok, one more.)
Blondie: Do you think our kids will hang out together some day, just like us?
Me: You mean, rob banks together? Sure!
...
I remember laughing very very hard, so hard I could barely scribble these notes on the crumpled napkins, and yet...it is all so very, very unfunny in the light of day.
...
I need a milkshake.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:12 PM March 29, 2002
It's Friday, and my already-heavy workload has increased, which seems in direct misproportion to what my week should look like. I should have nothing to do today, gently segueing into a weekend with few to no obligations, leaving me refreshed and relaxed for a busy Monday back at work.
Yeah, no luck this weekend. Girls' Night, dyeing eggs with Mom and Kid Sis, Easter Brunch with Mom's fam, Easter Dinner with Dad and company--and then there's the possibility of needing to come into the office tomorrow for a few hours just to catch up on work that isn't even mine!
How does these things happen? Also puzzling: How do parents do this, how do they work children into the mix? I'm going to make a terrible mother. Later. After I learn to take care of plants. Well, and after I learn to take care of a dog. That's the logical progression of things, right? When I can keep a plant alive, I get a dog. When I can keep a dog alive, I get a baby.
...
I've been so good today, having strawberries and canteloupe for breakfast, and now I'm having my salad and yogurt, and I already have dinner planned for tonight--but people keep dropping Easter candy on my desk. And then it leaps up, tosses aside the foil wrapping and seductively whispers, "...c'mon, eat me. I need you to eat me, I won't be satisfied until you do...and neither will you"...what can I do butmy mouth and slip it inside, feel it melt on my tongue while my eyes roll back in my head and I let out a slight moan of pleasure...
I'm getting way too into this.
I blame it on my family, you know--Easter is not so much a religious holiday for us, it's a Chocolate Holiday. I learned early on that the best way to spend Easter weekend is hopped up on refined sugar and that the fall-out of dyeing eggs is having to eat egg salad sandwiches for at least a week (which isn't really punishment, because they're so good)...but better that than having to abstain from something fun for 40 days and then spend a perfectly good Sunday in church (now that is punishment).
Once in a while illustrious stepfather will get all into the religious-stuff (let me remind you: he was headed for seminary before he veered from the path of goodness and went to law school. that makes me chuckle every time I think about it.), but if you ignore him it'll go away.
Mm...Chocolate bunnies. (Secret confession: more than chocolate easter bunnies, so easy to torture and defile--I like mini-eggs. None of that cadbury's crap for me, just flat out mini-eggs.)
...
I've picked all the roma tomato slices out of my salad. I think that'll have to do.
I would do bloody bloody murder for a cheeseburger right now. Instead, I'll go home in three hours and do crunches until I'm blind.
Why are the fun things so bad for you?? And when did I start caring??
...Come to think of it--I started caring right around the point where i met and fell in love with Boy. Suddenly, everything mattered, life was so brilliant and beautiful! I suddenly had a foreseeable future with an amazing, caring, adorable Boy--being a shark lost its appeal. I shouldn't ask about when I started caring--I should ask "Why didn't I care sooner?".
(here's where you chime in: "Because you hadn't met him yet," and that sort of explains away everything. I'm talking myself in circles, frantic circles, craving protein and carbs! Screw being good. I'm getting a burrito.)
Posted by ferragamogirl at 01:13 PM March 28, 2002
More Evidence That I'm Turning Into My Mother: I budgeted my spending at the grocery store tonight, buying things that we'll actually eat and are good (fruit and veggies and bread with nuts and grains in it) instead of stuff that will either a) rot in the fridge, or b) rot our insides (Powerpuff Girls Cereal and two cases of Mtn. Dew Code Red. And celery, that stuff tends to turn to mush in the bag in the bottom drawer before I remember I've purchased it).
More Evidence That I'm Nothing Like My Mother: I bought a cucumber for my lunch salads, and the price was 69 cents. I snickered. The checker gave me a look, and I snickered again, inspiring a reciprocal snicker from her. This is amusing on so many levels.
...
I keep forgetting to mention: We saw Scotland, PA with Dave and Quincy last week, and it was fucking great. Psychotic and bizarre and disgusting and one long acid trip and man was it ugly (I am NO fan of the 70's), but you know how I love that which is bizarre and disgusting. Go see it.
...
Also: I bought whipped yogurt today.
Why would you whip yogurt?
...
I am: very interested in colons. and sitting in the hottub before bed. G'nite!
Good morning! It's a bonny morning indeed, what with the fog and the drizzle and the rush hour traffic ever increasing...but at least I spent rush hour (or rush 20 minutes) with someone I love! Boy and I tried a new system today, wherein we get up at the same time, leave in separate cars, I park near the bus stop, then get in his car and we drive downtown together! Excellent. Well. Today was excellent. I don't know if we can pull this off every day. There are so many things to factor in: Did we both get enough sleep to get up this early? Have we gotten up early to get a shower for each of us and two minutes to smooch in the bathroom? Are we going to get stuck behind that schoolbus on Sandpoint Way, where there's no room to pass and no where to turn until 95th? What if the schoolbus turns up 95th, too? What if the Express Lanes are backed up? Do we have enough time to smooch in the car outside my office?
Obviously, there are places in this schedule where we can pare things down, save some time--but firebombing a schoolbus is against the law, my lawyer says.
Cutting down on smooching is out of the question.
...
Had a dream last night that Boy had arranged for Lyle Lovett to pick me up from work. It was halloween, and I gushed and blushed and was in absolute awe, while in reality I'm not all that fond of Lyle, though I'm sure he's a nice enough guy. He asked me if this was the first time I'd ever met a celebrity, and I scoffed, mentioning the time I'd had midnight breakfast in a smoky diner with Michael Penn.
Then I wake up today and Boy tells me that Lyle Lovett was trampled by a Bull. How...very.
...
More line showings. Another two hours of my life I'll never get back.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:49 AM March 27, 2002
In the same vein as the 4 Things meme, I'll do a quick 5 Things for those of you just joining us. (In truth, this is just a poor-man's fix of my bio page, which feels tired and humorless. It's not, say pals, it's amusing and irreverent and a perfect web-interpretation of The Essence Of You! but I still think it needs a fix, a boost, anything. and naked pictures, the ex-lover chimes in. We'll see.)
15 years ago I...
1. was seven years old.
2. ...everything is blurry. I was seven, how much do you expect me to remember?
3. no, seriously, it's a blur. I probably had my nose in a book that year.
4. well, I was in therapy, thanks to the divorce (though really, my parents were the ones who needed--and still need--the therapy. I was there for the Mr. Sketch Markers.)
5. ...yup, still a blur.
10 years ago I...
1. was 12, and wasn't afraid to show it. You think I'm a bitch now? Whooo, have I got news for you!
2. was a year away from moving to Europe, where I continued to discard any and all pretenses of innocence, thanks to a charming Alsatian lad named René. Also, I ate squab, and regretted it.
3. thought I was hot shit with that ESPRIT bag and purple keds. Ohhh yeah. This was before Europe. Then I thought I was hot shit with a fake accent and a beret.
4. still had a poster of horse breeds on my bedroom wall. Also, because I was (and still am, heh) a dork, I had maps on the ceiling.
5. couldn't wait to be 16. Oh, the sorrow.
5 years ago I...
1. was young and sweet, only seventeeeeen...Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine/you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...and fucking my physics tutor--he was a rambunctious 26 year old mess, and I fell deeply in lust.
2. totaled illustrious stepfather's Audi Quattro 90. Whoops.
3. had finished my freshman year of college, because I'm a fucking genius. I was about half-way through my sophomore. See? Genius.
4. was coming off my Annie-hall-phase, by which I mean that I wore ass-tight corduroy flare and men's oxford shirts, with ironically-patterned ties. Sometimes I'd add a vintage suit jacket with wacky antique buttons that I sewed on myself. My gawd, I'm embarassed to remember.
5. had a life-altering revelation: dressing like an idiot was winning me NO points. resolved to do something about that.
Do *not* make comments. Just. Do. Not.
2 years ago I...
1. was working for illustrious stepfather, on ruining our familial and professional relationships. But he made it worth my while.
2. said yes. and said no three and a half months later. Shh.
3. bought twenty red tulips every friday.
4. learned how to get spanked.
5. drank more tequila than I should admit to.
1 year ago I...
1. began my period of self-imposed unemployment. rawk.
2. started dating Nia.
3. joined the Wet Spot, and haven't looked back.
4. started wearing Boy's ring...and I haven't taken it off since. Unless I'm making pie dough. Gotta take it off then.
5. Started this journal! w00t!
Yesterday I...
1. uh...much like remembering life as a seven year-old, yesterday is something of a blur.
2. worked. pretty hard, actually.
3. had lunch with dad, and it went well except for my being rather tense the entire time--I kept expecting him to drop some bomb like "time for you to start paying for your own car insurance". That would have suuucked. But lunch went well! I was pleased.
4. Got waxed! And now I look like I've been hit in the head!
5. Made fun of old people.
Today I...
1. Oh c'mon. This is getting old.
Tomorrow I will...
1. work. sigh.
2. Probably return the greatest pants in the world. They just didn't feel...right, once I got home. Shh, I'm fine. I stil haven't lost it.
3. Heh. Do it.
4. entertain you, because that's what I'm here for. You. Every little thing You do is magic.
5. STOP DOING STUPID QUIZZES.
Five items I have brand loyalty to...
1. I think answering this question would be a bad idea.
2. Ziploc(tm)
3. L'Oreal Kids shampoos and body wash. Sometimes detangler.
4. Stormy Leather.
5. Dansko.
Five games I like...
1. The Midlife Crisis Boardgame.
2. Really Fucking Sorry.
3. Chicken.
4. You Like That? Do You? Ohhh Yeah. You Like That. What's That? You Want Me To Stop? I'll Take You Home And Make You Like It!!
5. Scrabble.
Five albums that changed my life...
1. Joshua Tree, U2.
2. Sirens Of Song, Rhino Records Compilation.
3. Haunted, Poe
4. Exile In Guyville, Liz Phair
5. Wait, no--Anything Ever Performed By Liz Phair.
Five things I can't live without...
1. Boy.
2. Boy.
3. Boy.
4. bottled water and cherry yogurt.
5. Boy.
Top five locations I'd like to run away to...
1. Tahiti
2. Geneva
3. Cote d'Azure
4. Courcheval
5. small island. white beaches. blue water. pina coladas.
Yeah, that's enough. Shit, took me long enough. Never again.
Welcome, new readers--check out the bio and links sections for quick insight, it'll save scrolling. Also, great thanks to Nisa and SuburbanLimbo for the linkies...We're sowing the seeds of love.
Also: Glorious be the day where I leave work at 3:30 to pick up the greatest pair of pants on earth. My shopping-slump is over.
Had a dream last night that I was in a market in Tehran, wearing a skimpy tank top and short-shorts. I bought red asparagus and enoki mushrooms, and two american men advised me to buy a few yards of the dyed linen they were selling, and cover myself with it. I bought the plain linen with embroidered hem, and wore it like a cape. My guide (a girl not much older than myself and astoundingly beautiful) took me to a restaurant where you had six choices and the water tasted so cool and fresh, which seemed incongruous to me since the entire city was dusty and brown--but then I noticed that it was bottled, and that they weren't washing dishes, just scraping leftover food off the last dish and using it again. There was a dock along the front of the restaurant, with brown and murky water slowly moving under it. A tour bus pulled up and emptied its load onto the dock, all elderly midwestern tourists who had "just come from Istanbul! Isn't this so...cultural?!" one of the women screeched in my ear. I glared, grabbed a bottle of water, and pushed her in the river.
...
Where do these things come from? Sometimes my dreams are so easy to piece together, they're parts of books or movies or recurring themes that occasionally relate to actual happenings--but then there are dreams like this, about places I've never been and languages I've never spoken...and I wonder.
...
I got my brows waxed last night, and they look fanfuckingtastic...but I had a very odd reaction--my forehead puffed up, like I was getting hives, but it was numb to the touch at first...then it got itchy as fuck, and then it was just plain painful. Boy says I look bruised, and asked me if the aesthetician (who is hawwwtt. way hot. too hot for words.) had punched me in the head while she waxed, and of course the answer is no but I'm starting to think I blacked out and hit my head and no one told me, because now I've got a lump on my forehead. Ouch. But at least I've got sexy eyebrows.
I'd been contemplating a Brazilian wax until this experience--I don't think I could handle this sort of reaction down there. You know. In my area. Heh.
...
That position in the department I didn't want to join has been filled, which is good because picking up the slack for other people gets old--and even though I didn't necessarily want the job (just the pay increase) and even though it would have made me fairly unhappy, this sort of work...I'm feeling a little disappointed about it. Mostly about the money. Not that it would have been all that much! But a little bit more is better than nothing, yes? Then again, having a job is better than being unemployed these days.
...
I'm thinking about starting a notify list now that my updates are less frequent and more lengthy--it's a built-in feature of MovableType, and seems entertaining. But I can't judge how steady my blogging will be--will I continue this one-post-in-the-morning-and-a-few-lines-in-the-afternoon business? Will I go back to posting pithy comments mid-day? Will I become one of those every-other-day bastards when you need your fix daily? I can't say! Who am I to blow against the wind?! But if you're interested, if you think it seems like a good idea, let your thoughts be known. If you think I should shut my trap and quit moaning and groaning, go fuck yerself.
Speaking of telling people to go fuck themselves--the backlash from telling off that knowitall bitch was surprising. It's fairly obvious upon arrival that I'm not the type to bend over backwards to be nice, and making snide comments juxtaposing my readership drive and my intensely bitchy nature will only serve to piss me off. And make me cry, like a widdle schoolgirl.
...
Fuck. Line showings today, and since it's the Fall line, it'll take two hours. Better than three, which took three, but still! It's a big chunk of time out of a day where I've got lots to do and not enough time in which to finish.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:58 AM March 26, 2002
Links have been updated, discarded, left out in the cold wet windy night to shiver and freeze and curse the gods...
I sat in the hottub last night, naked and quiet and bathed in moonlight. It was so quiet, no noise from the neighbors, the dogs--So quiet I could hear a motorcycle on Juanita drive...which happens to be across the lake. Two and a half miles! So quiet.
I floated for a while, made ripples in the water because I love the reflection on the bottom of the tub, then headed inside. Boy welcomed me to bed witharms and loving heart, and I slept like a baby--not a single dream all night long.
...
Gawd, wouldn't that have been lovely? Actually, I came inside and dried off, crawled into bed with Boy, and...talked about work. See, the thing is--there are all these changes happening around me, and there's the potential I'll be offered a position in a department I didn't really want to get into, but it would be better than getting laid off, but I'd probably be fairly unhappy because it's a job that requires talking to people, and I hate people! People are stupid! They ask stupid questions about stupid things, and...Yeah.
So I talked about work for a while, Boy patiently listening--and I couldn't take it any more. I'm here for 8 or 9 hours a day, and when I go home, I don't want to have to think about it.
...
The dreamless part was true, btw.
...
I'm having lunch with my father today, and I'm not sure why. I mean, I know why, because he's my dad and I love him and despite living two seconds away, we don't see much of each other lately (but that's mostly of my own doing, I really don't like That Woman [no relation to That Dan, but I say it in the same tone of voice, referring to the Evil Stepmother-to-be]). But he called out of the blue (heh, funny: I just typed "lube" instead of "blue". Heh. hehehe) yesterday and asked if I'd like to have lunch and I said sure, any particular reason? and he said...noo...and thus raised my suspicions.
The hopeful beast inside of me is hoping he wants to give me the house. The realistic troll is saying, "He'll probably raise your rent", and Sensibility is hushing them both so I can get some work done.
What, don't you have little beasts and trolls living in your brain?
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:11 AM March 25, 2002
Another Monday, another grey day, another chance to make my mark.
It was a long weekend, what with entertaining an almost-nine-year-old for most of it--She's adorable, and I need to spend as much time with her as possible because they're leaving in two and a half (That's less than three!!) months for what I'm deathly afraid will be an ill-fated trip, but I can't think about it because it makes me want to sob.
Wait, no. Everything makes me want to sob right now, and it's driving me mad. It's just stupid hormones. Mostly. It's also a strange and underlying fear (more of the 'fraidy-catness today. odd.) that Boy will never be comfortable with my family (which is not to say that they're an easy bunch to tolerate--I'll be the first to admit how frustrating they are) or my friends (but then, neither am I comfortable around them these days.) and that he'll get tired of me and I'll be alone for the rest of my miserable life. sniffle.
Man, I've got to stop with the pathetic wailing first thing Monday morning. How on earth will I generate new readership if the first post they see is me complaining about having the most perfect relationship on earth?
Here are some good things about my weekend, in the easy-to-read form of a list. I'm all about easy-to-read these days, because I'm going freakin' blind. So:
+The Kid Sis and I played an extraordinary amount of X-Box this weekend. So much that my thumb is aching. What a workout.
+Saw Blondie for the first time in ages yesterday. It was a short reunion, but good.
+I had a really nice afternoon with Buddy on Saturday--We had lunch and talked and didn't fight once (except for when I played that Gourds' cover of Gin 'n Juice, and he said "What is this shit??" and I laughed so he just changed the cd, and life went on).
+Speaking of shit! I was at my grandmother's house on Saturday when my cousin showed up with her deadbeat boyfriend. Grams asked "Is That Dan with her?" (she calls him That Dan, and says it much in the same tone of voice that you would use to reference "That Pile Of Excrement Baking In The Hot Sun And Stinking Up The Neighborhood"), I reply in the affirmative and she says under her breath with a thundering scowl, "Shit ass."
There is nothing funnier than hearing a 95 year old woman say "Shit ass". I could laugh about that for weeks.
+I bought The Idiot's Guide To Sewing, because I am an idiot, and I want to learn to sew. Normally, this is a lesson handed down from mother to daughter blah blah blah, but around the time my mother was wanting to teach me, I was busy being too cool, and thus missed my chance. And because I don't want to be an Adult Education Dork, I'm going to learn from this book. Yeah. I hope. There may be some panicked calls to my mother, but I'm placing a great deal of faith in this book. Even if it made me feel stupid buying it.
+We watched the Oscars(tm) with Dave and Quincy last night--my favorite part was when Halle Berry won Best Actress(tm) and Nicole Kidman shot daggers from her eyes for the rest of the night. Delicious.(tm)
+The outtakes for Zoolander are fucking hilarious. Seriously.(tm)
Enough list.
Oh! I completely forgot to tell you: I have a secret confession. I've passed on my Queen Bitch Of The World(tm) crown to Joy who left what I'm pretty sure is The Bitchiest Comment Ever(tm) on my last post. And Joy, please rest assured that if we ever happen to meet, I plan on giving you a swift kick your fat fat ass(tm).
I can't stop trademarking everything!
I'm seeing Quincy's aesthetician for a brow wax tomorrow, and it could not happen any sooner. I had to physically restrain myself from doing a quick pluck this weekend because I feel so hairy in the brow-zone (oh wait, that was Boy restraining me...and I don't think it had anything to do with eyebrows, heh. Hehhehheh. Yeeeeah.)...which makes me sound like a Neanderthal, but I'm not. I'm just...obsessed. With eyebrows.
...
It smells like spring. And I'm wearing my chunky Kenneth Cole sandals, so it must be spring. Right? No More Snow(tm).
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:25 AM March 23, 2002
An entire day without posting. How will we survive?
By reading through my entire archives, digging up pertinent bits of inferramation. Well, maybe not all of you did, but someone has been fairly thorough. It's taken a goodly bit of time, as well! I've got close to a year of archives now, which leads me to my first bit of business...
April 5 will mark One Year Of Blogging (yeah, I had the date wrong before. I could have sworn it was April 2, but whaddev.), and that most certainly calls for a celebration. And perhaps a redesign, but I think that if I want that I'll be promising all manner of dirty-things to the Boy in exchange for web-design services. And isn't that how it should work? "Web Design In Exchange For Sex". Perfect foundation for a long-lasting relationship.
Then again, if someone offered me web-design in exchange for apple pie, I wouldn't say no.
I should just learn to do it myself.
Celebration! (not the Disney town, this is about my blogiversary, a delightful term coined by Miss Jackie on the occasion of her own one-year-of-blogging.) But I'm at a loss for ideas. Boy suggested that I post naked pictures (quelle surprise), but I think that just getting the regular photos posted would be an accomplishment.
...
I started writing this at nine am, and now it's 4, and my sister is calling (she's staying with us for the weekend) and my head is hurting and I'm millimeters away from barfing, so I'll post this and run. New links page by tonight, I promise.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 03:38 PM March 21, 2002
fever's up, but my voice is back. throat still sore. emeril getting on nerves.
Speaking of obnoxious, I was watching Martha Stewart Living earlier--and her guest was Keb Mo' (whom I find delightful, but this was bizarre). Apparently he wrote and performed her new theme song (nooooo, Keb!), so she invited him to come make buckwheat pancakes...only, she didn't call them pancakes--she called them "Keb Mo's Mancakes", and she called the ones she made "ladycakes"...it was surreal at best.
i have been felled by whatever evil bug has been floating through the ranks. taking this opportunity to sleep through an entire day. and to update my list of links, but that will be later. it feels stagnant there, so many blogs i don't read anymore.
and then there are blogs like this that renew my faith in the community. rawk on.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:36 AM March 20, 2002
I have been in the foulest mood all day, and figured I wouldn't subject y'all to it.
I'm starting to feel better though, despite my impending cold (I can just feel it creeping up my throat into my sinuses)--something about watching the snow flurry and fall makes everything seem softer and less obtrusive.
Oh, and I've been listening to Ice Cube and George Clinton's Bop Gun. And Ja Rule. And Dean Martin. It's an odd mix, but it works somehow.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 02:50 PM March 19, 2002
4 bad habits you have
*Nail-biting
*Procrastination
*Lazy lazy lazy
*I'm also a self-involved bitch. Nasty habit, that.
4 scents you love
*Crisp Fuji apples
*baby powder
*Boy
*pie
4 things you'd never wear
*horizontal stripes
*anything made of human flesh/skin/bones/fecal matter
*a tanga (don't ask. or, more accurately, ask someone else.)
*Anything with a "team" logo on it.
4 animals you like
*Sharks
*Sharks
*dogs that don't shed
*Sharks that eat pirates.
4 TV shows you love
*Buffy, duh.
*Louis Theroux's Wild Weekends or Weird Weekends or whatever it is, I can't remember because it's been a MILLION YEARS since Bravo showed it last.
*anything reality-themed (I heart pain and suffering)
*Naked Chef
4 celebrities you don't like
*Meg Ryan
*The Captain
*Tenille
*Any figure-skater. Particularly those who sell out and do Crack-in-the-Box commercials. Idiots.
4 drinks you regularly drink(aside from water)
*Water
*Ginger ale
*spoonfuls of my own dripping sweat
*Water
4 ice cream flavours you love
*Butter Pecan
*Cherry Garcia
*Orange-anything.
*Chocolate cake. Someone needs to make chocolate cake ice cream, and they need to make it NOW.
4 random facts about yourself
*I hate feet. Don't touch mine, and don't ask me to touch yours. Don't even look at mine. It's not like they're hideously ugly, but I hate them, all of them. I'll cut them off given the time and inclination, cut them off with my bare hands!! seriously. I hate feet.
*I only sleep well on clean, crisp white sheets, preferrably ironed before being put on the bed. Patterned sheets make me dizzy in my sleep. Stripes I can handle sometimes, but flowers--no way.
*At the peak of my obsession, I had 99 pairs of shoes, which some people find odd considering my vitriolic hatred towards feet. I intentionally avoided breaking the 100-mark, but I still look like a materialistic brat. I have about 50 pairs now.
*I make a mean sweet-potato pie.
4 random facts about your family
*We are loud and matriarchal and have little patience for people who fuck with us. My mother, her sister, my cousins and I formed our own branch of the Purple Hoods when I was about 14--we've never looked back since.
*We tend to be on the tall-side: Mom's 5'10, Buddy's 6'1, and my 8 year old sister is close to 5'. I'm the shrimp at 5'7.
*My family is LEAVING me this June, fulfilling their lifelong dream of sailing around the world. Without me. because I was dumb and went and got a career that won't yet let me run off whenever I want. LEAVING ME.
*I love them so very very much, even though they're infiniately frustrating. So. So. Much.
4 websites you recommend
...Come now, that's what the links page is for.
Had a dream last night that Blondie and Kate Des Rosier and I were going to the Lusty Lady (for you non-locals, that's our favorite peepshow, and it's woman-owned!) with a bunch of people I've known since grade school, and when we finished getting quarters and putting on our outfits (we were all wearing these horridly clichéd french maid costumes), we drank green apple martinis (which I hate) and went into a booth...the curtain rises, and we see--Strippers On Ice. They were all wearing ice skates and dancing around, it was nuts. I was disappointed because no one took their clothes off, so I went home--and Bruce Willis broke into our living room, right through the french doors! Except he wasn't just Bruce Willis, he was Bruce Willis the Ape-Man! And he was having a heart attack! And he came to us because he thought we were doctors! Which we're not! Ha! Ha! Hhh...heh.
Even more frustrating than having my oven crap out while baking a chicken (and because I'm not sure if I mentioned it, the oven got fixed. It needed a new bottom element, which is pretty damned good considering it's a 20 year old range. I was concerned that I'd somehow used my as-yet-unknown-telekinetic powers to make the oven crap out, because five minutes before I'd been mentally cataloging the ranges I've been surreptitiously researching. Oh shut up.) was dinner last night--I order pizza when Boy is on his way home. Pizza arrives one hour later, which is completely unacceptable, and it's in the arms of that uber-creepy delivery guy who always stares at my tits. He overcharges us (only by a dollar, but it's the principle of the thing!), I hand him a twenty, and he starts to walk away. I say, "Change, please?", and he looks startled--did he really think I'd be giving him a five dollar tip? he gives me two back. We pour our sodas. Wethe boxes. My pizza is COLD and it has No Cheese (which, to be honest, was probably a good thing. That slice of Provolone I had is still wreaking havoc on my digestive system) and only has one of the toppings I wanted! We freak out and call the pizza place, speak to the manager. He says he'll send two large pizzas free of charge, and they'll be there right away. Another hour passes. Uber-Freaky Delivery Guy shows up. We take boxes, he leaves. Weboxes. There Is Still No Cheese On My Pizza, And Only One Of Two Desired Toppings. And it feels like it's been microwaved.
I wanted to firebomb the pizza place, but Boy suggested that we just stop patronising their establishment.
And then I woke up at 5am with Killer Heartburn! Those bastards.
...
What's the appropriate reaction to seeing an obnoxious coworker look at pr0n while at work? I shuddered and walked away, wondering how he can be stupid enough to do that at a computer that faces a busy aisle between desks.
...
Holy Fucking Shitballs.
Apparently the appropriate reaction is to fire him posthaste, if you're his boss. Wow. He was here one minute, and being escorted from the building the next, while IS swooped in and confiscated his CPU. It's a shame, really--He was so damned easy to make fun of.
...
The office is very. very. quiet now. Partly because everyone is in shock that a) he's gone so quickly! and b) how stupid was that, looking at pr0n while at work?? and partly because he was SO FUCKING LOUD that there's this huge aural void now.
And that's a good thing.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:18 AM March 18, 2002
Overslept, not at my desk, and suffering from a Mtn. Dew hangover. So very very pathetic am I. Lunch is pretty pathetic--the world's most boring salad (chopped romaine. garlic-parmesan dressing. and that's it.) and boring yogurt and...Not-Boring Apple Pie that little Suzy Homemaker (that's me, but without the Suzy, I'd look terrible as a Suzy) made last night.
Last night! What a great night. What a great weekend, for that matter! We barely left the house (which makes us sound pathetic, but we're not, I swear. Usually. Except for when our oven craps out in the middle of making dinner--baked chicken--and we end up eating rice and couscous [rice for boy, couscous for me] for dinner. THAT is pathetic. We were too lazy to do anything else but eat our respective grains and glare at the half-cooked chicken.) Anyway, we stayed home a bunch, except for dinner on Friday and lunch on saturday and the grocery store on Sunday...Speaking of dinner on Friday, we ran into this old crush of mine when we were leaving the restaurant--I remember him being in my homeroom in junior high, he was new to the school and fell in with these three boys who were such assholes (some of you may remember Alex Abdo and his gang of miscreants?)--they delighted in asking me if I'd go out with him and I said something like "eww, no!" because I was a snotty bitch even then, and then in high school, he (the crush) and I became pals and I took this sexy sexy picture of him during one of my infamous parties (not THAT kind of sexy, we were sixteen! eww. It was just very sexy, all black and white and sinatra-looking) and then after graduation we lost touch--We run into him leaving the restaurant and he's dead sexy, and all I can do is point at him and yell "Hey!! Hey, it's...it's...You!!" until I realize what a buffoon I must sound, and we drive away.
But still, what a great weekend! Saturday we lunched at (fill in the blank, you know where we were--and it turns out Dave and Quincy were there three hours earlier! We are creatures of great habit, and we love it.) and then headed home for more lounging and cleaning and laundry and organizing...only to continue said activities on Sunday as well. This is normally where I would start bitching and moaning about how much I despise laundry and cleaning and getting organized...but this weekend felt really good. Our bedroom is the cleanest I've seen it in months, things are getting put in their proper places, the blinds got dusted...
What was I saying about sounding pathetic?
But we redeemed our homely weekend with an evening spent barbequeing with Dave and Quincy under the false pretense of Oscar-watching...Yeah, I got the date wrong. But whatever, right? It was a good time, burgers and the accursed Mtn. Dew Code Red...Evil stuff, that. Eeeeeevil.
Oh, and apple pie! I'm having troubles, though--I used about eight slightly-bigger-than-my-fist-sized Fuji apples, a regular pie pan (instead of my deep-dish), and had ample ventilation in the top-crust...but my crust is puffing way up and not settling with the filling once I take it out of the oven. Any solutions?
Again with the pathetic. Now for the sexy details of the weekend:
Um.
We had more discussion about the prospect of a pay site, but I'm liking the idea more and more. Aside from the additional income, it would allow me to indulge my exhibitionist streak, and allow Boy to pursue his photo-videography-etc. hobby....But who am I kidding? It's mostly about the money. It just happens to have some added benefits.
Still nothing solid yet--although we talked about a rough timeframe for getting things set up: Launch in late June (after the family leaves on their round-the-world-sailing-trip), and if it's paying off by late summer, we won't have to renew our roommate's lease! Yay!
That is, of course, a best-case scenario. I have unfailing optimism, though--and I'll keep y'all updated on progress.
...
headache.
Only two hours until I go home--though I could have sworn that I was commiserating with Sheena earlier about how gee-dee long the day would be, seeing as how we've got very very little to do.
Home to a nap, and a hot bath, and all will be well. How is it that a weekend of barely leaving the house left me so exhausted??
Must have been the dirty details I left out...Heh.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 01:42 PM March 17, 2002
In an effort to regain readership, I've joined the aforementioned webrings (although I've been ditched at blog-girls...apparently my site design didn't involve enough anime or Gwen Stefani)...and become a BlogSnob as well.
Sigh.
Come back, readers! I'm here for you! Take of me what you will, read and read and read and send me creepy email and read some more!
Still not many opinions weighing in on the pay-site idea--those who have weighed in haven't given me the answer I wanted, mostly a lot of "Uh. Interesting." Yeah, well. I'm tired of paying rent, and would rather that 450 masturbating fiends did it for me (hey, at $20/pop, that's my rent and some spending money. Pretty decent deal.)
So tired. Listening to the breakup saga of the same friend of Boy's who called this morning. If you think we're nuts for getting a call girl for our birthdays--this friend paid $150 (in the form of cocktails in NYC, and i think cab fare was involved and who knows what else) for One Minute Of Sex With His Lesbian Ex-Girlfriend and then another $200 tonight for some...conversation? before coming home and breaking up with his Current Girlfriend...
Ecch. Too tired for this. Don't need no hateration or holleration, it's time for sleep.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 01:42 AM March 16, 2002
Jeez. I have to go and join twowebrings on a day when I've made all sorts of off-color remarks, and in a week when I've posted nasty liz-lyrics...What do you want to bet that they reject me for that?
Dear Webring People:
Please don't hate me because I talk about boot-knocking. Hate me because I'm a spiteful snitch with a superiority complex.
To be perfectly clear: When I say "pay-site", I don't mean that suddenly you'll have to pay me to be amused; the weblog will always be free.
I mean that the (as-yet nonexistent) section of this site that would have dirty stuff, x-rated entries, cam stills, erotica, blah blah blah would be members-only.
But like I said! This is just a discussion for now.
...Or at least, that's how the morning should have gone. Instead, I woke him up with a call from one of his college pals (Heya Chris--and Steve, too!), which led to me being grumpy for no good reason, which led to a mind-rocking orgasm for me and frustration for him, which led to a discussion about...starting a pay-site.
It would be a big step, and require a lot of work--but the financial reward is tempting.
No no no, it's not even in the works yet! We're just...discussing things, weighing options, trying to decide if the reward is worth the risk. What do you think? Comment.
Just don't tell my stepdad his little girl's becoming a pr0nstar.
Saturday morning, snow falls softly while he sleeps. He's restless, and it's likely my fault--I can't get comfortable, I want some juice, I'm wet and wanting to make him hard....but I'm trapped while he sleeps, a small smile on his lips. I stroke his cheek, graze his neck with my mouth, feel his pulse beating a little faster...my hand drifts down his back, around the curve of his ass, between his legs...his eyes arenow, the small smile growing into a knowing grin--I think I'll finish this post later....
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:04 AM March 15, 2002
Better than the Violent Femmes--Here's some Liz...Phair, that is:
Every time I see your face
I get all wet between my legs
Every time you pass me by
I heave a sigh of pain
Every time I see your face
I think of things unpure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I'll take you home and make you like it
Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I'll do to you
I'll fuck you and your minions too
Your face reminds me of a flower
Kind of like you're underwater
Hair's too long and in your eyes
Your lips a perfect suck me size
You act like you're fourteen years old
Everything you say is so
Obnoxious, funny true and mean
I want to be your blowjob queen
You're prob'ly shy and introspective
That's not part of my objective
I just want your fresh young jimmy
Jamming, slamming, ramming in me
Every time I see your face
I think of things impure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I'll take you home and make you like it
Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I'll do to you
I'll fuck you till your dick is blue...
And Gawd, did I mention the meatload? If you don't see any posts from me for days and days after this one, it's because I've had two simultaneous heart-attacks--one from the inherent dangers of meatloaf-and-bacon-cheddar-mashed-potatoes, and one from it all being so damned good, I had to die.
That joke was so much funnier in my head.
...
Come on dad gimme the car tonight
I tell'ya what I'm gonna do
I'm gonna pick her up
I'm gonna get her drunk
i'm gonna make her cry
I'm gonna get her high
I'm gonna make her laugh
I'm gonna make her...shh
woman, woman, woman
she gotta knows she's it
cause I'm gonna touch her
all over her body
gonna touch her
all over her body
gonna touch her
all over her body
gonna touch her
all over her body
and she can touch me
all over my body...
It's back, completely back, and now I'm having performance anxiety. It's been a month! I've practically forgotten how to blog, to say nothing of my difficulties thinking of what to blog. There's plenty going on--lots of news to catch up on...but it just won't come out right, and if it's not coming out right then it's not coming out at all.
I feel like I've aged in the last month and...oh wait, I have. I turned 22, and while it's no grand accomplishment (unless you consider I've managed to avoid people murdering me for various indiscretions and misguided attempts at matchmaking--now that is an accomplishment.), I really feel...older. It's not just the birthday-thing (though that was a pleasurably harrowing experience in and of itself), it's been a very stressful month--exacting revenge will do that to you. And getting used to a new roommate. And her dogs, who started barking at ONE IN THE MORNING last night.
I've slept poorly lately, that much is evidenced by mention of the dogs and those dreams I described yesterday--Every single dream I've had (that's three a night, on average) has been that vivid and confusing/frustrating/horrifying. It may seem as though I share every intimate detail of my life with you--but I refrain from mentioning the dreams in which i kill my family and eat their heads off paper plates. Try sleeping well after that.
Things with the roommate are going smashingly, though--two weeks ago she got up on Saturday morning and cleaned the bathroom and kitchen of her own volition, and I almost cried with happiness. She gave me a funny look, and I explained that when you live with the human equivalent of a filthy packrat (bastard), you learn not to take these things for granted. She's a nice woman, and while we have little in common (only a shared love of Trading Spaces and, strangely, always needing to pee at the same time in the morning) I think this will be a good match.
If only the dogs will stop barking.
...
Roommate Anecdote Guaranteed To Both Amuse And Illustrate Our Personal Differences: Boy walks into the bathroom with a stack of freshly folded towels. Puts towels on stack. Comes out with two books, one in each hand. Left hand, roommate's book: Conversations With God. Right hand, my book: Memoirs Of A Woman Of Pleasure (alternately titled Fanny Hill!). Go on, laugh, it's funny.
...
Oh! Our night with the call girl. That'll have to wait still, I've got a meeting in four minutes. Suffice to say the most difficult part was lying to my coworkers and parents when they asked what Boy's Grand Surprise was--I've never blushed so hard in my life.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:56 AM March 14, 2002
No Great Big Welcome Back/One-Year Of Every Little Thing post yet--but here's some stuff from 3/12/02:
Had a dream last night that my parents were getting married again--but my mother was sort of nonchalant about the whole thing. Ten minutes before the ceremony, she was laying on her bed in a bathrobe asking me to pick an outfit--then she decided she couldn't get married without having Frosted Mini-Wheats first, so off to the grocery store we went. They had one box that was obviously marketed towards children, a cartoon character plastered across the front--for $3.49. Next to that was a four-pak of boxes, all regular sized but without the animated cartoon character--for $3.29. Irritating, the entire dream. Mom wanted to wear *my* pearls for the wedding instead of the pearls illustrious stepfather gave her years ago, didn't like the flowers that she'd picked out months before the wedding--she was being a *child*, and it drove me insane.
Also had a dream this weekend about being at my old salon on first and blanchard--Boy and I were there with Dave and Quincy, waiting for my hair appointment. I was sent to the dressing room with a smock, but when I got back there, all I could find were other peoples' clothing, lots of turtlenecks and bras and a couple packages of raw chicken. I managed to get into a gown, but my pants had disappeared--so I was wandering around in nylons and a smock and these horrible chunky wedge shoes that kept falling off. Headed back to the break room with one hand tugging my smock down (though I couldn't manage to shake the feeling of my ass being exposed) and found D&Q eating...raw meat, Quincy was pregnant and had to eat all this raw meat and I started freaking out because she was having Rosemary's Baby--and then my name was called. Found my stylist, an effeminate hispanic gentleman with a distinctly strange odor, and he led me to this *huge* room half-full of stylist stations. Words can't even describe how huge this room was--the entire front of the room was a wall of glass overlooking Puget Sound, mid-afternoon sun streaming through the windows and reflecting off the water. The ceiling was at least twenty stories tall, all exposed wood beams and brackets, with birds nesting in the rafters. Behind us, an elderly gentleman in embossed red velvet was being waited upon by five buxom young lasses while his wife watched and a meter ticked off every dollar he spent. The wife got tired of watching and joined their bus-tour group and a few minutes later the husband had a heart attack and died with a sloppy, shit-eating grin on his face. Meanwhile, my stylist got to work on my hair...by grabbing dry handfuls and hacking them off with kitchen shears. I woke up and spent all day reassuring myself that my hair was still long and flowing and silky, not the crackling-straw handfuls he'd hacked off in the dream.
...
I've been thinking about Switzerland lately, Zurich in particular--the hotel we lived in had this pool, the best european swimming pool I've ever seen, steamy yet efficient with a big...anchor swinging from the middle of the ceiling, above the water. I don't remember ever seeing another person, child adult guest or employee, use that pool the entire time we lived there. That was a good pool.
...
Did you watch the 9|11 special on CBS? Boy and I sat there in silence for two hours--and finally I just couldn't watch any more of it, couldn't do any more silent sobbing, and I went to bed. It's been six months and one day, and I haven't stopped counting. There are, of course, days when I don't think about it, when I can relax and live my life and pretend that all is well with the world--who wouldn't want that?? Life is a glorious cycle of song, a medley of extemporanea--and it's easy enough to believe that, until you listen to the strongest most capable men on earth crying and describing the sound of bodies hitting glass after falling 80 stories.
...
Speaking of medleys of extemporanea, Saturday was a particularly glorious day (discounting the weather, of course. Nothing can be said of the weather lately but resounding choruses of "bleargh"). We slept late, fucked hard, and went to lunch at (where else?) the Honeyhole with D&Q. We laughed and ate and over the remnants of our sandwiches decided that the best course of action for the afternoon would be to head to the "Family Fun Center" in Tukwila (that's about 20 minutes south of Seattle, near IKEA. I shall only say this for the city of Tukwila, which borders such lovely towns as "Kent" and "Renton" and "Sea-Tac"--at least the sewage smell wasn't all that noticible inside the building.) for a few rounds of miniature golf...But Seattle mini-golf isn't like Florida mini-golf, or So-Cal mini-golf...there are no working windmills, no clown-mouths to putt through--just plywood platforms covered in astroturf. Still! We had a wonderful time despite the sewage-smell and the impatient children and the 40mph gusts of wind and when it started to rain, we headed inside to play air hockey (Quincy kicked my ass) and token games. The boys got tired of games, handed us fistfuls of tokens and headed for the batting cages. Q and I deposited our tokens with glee, delighting over our many tickets--almost 150 tickets each, we'd earned!--and then I noticed the children running around trailing *thousands* of tickets...Our delight was not diminished until...well, until we had to stand in line to feed our tickets into the counting machine--kids are so damned slow! Why must they have such poorly developed fine-motor skills? Pfft. I left with two bouncy-balls, a chinese yoyo, and a few mini-packs of sweet-tarts--It doesn't get much better than that.
Unless, by chance, you were clutching 8000 tickets, which would be enough to purchase the lava lamp or the snooker-pool table.
We dropped D&Q off with instructions to pick some good movies, then headed home to make things presentable. Ordered chinese, Quincy and I watched Buffy while the boys picked up the takeout and Spagetti-O's (don't ask), and then we all settled in to watch...Friday and I'm Gonna Git You Sucka.
Some of the whitest whiteys on earth watching Friday and I'm Gonna Git You Sucka.
Actually, as the night progressed, Q and I grew equally tired of the genre (Friday was enough, thanks) and vetoed IGGYS for Monty Python and the Holy Grail. And then we all fell asleep watching it (despite having the Henry IV Subtitles turned on! Blast ye, DVD Special Features!).
What a day.
...
it's that magical time of day where my pumpkin turns into a coach--so i will away to home, with hopes of a working server and hub and router and dsl modem and wireless network and...Yeah, you can tell how my month has gone.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:17 AM March 05, 2002
I don't care if Monday's blue (it was, in more ways than one), Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too--that'll likely be true as well; I could hardly walk the block from the garage to the office without getting soaked. Why must I persist in my disdain for umbrellas? I cling to my native fervor, cutting off my nose to spite my face.
Obviously, the fix Boy tried didn't do the trick, and I've been serverless for three weeks now. I'm fairly sure that I've lost most of my peripheral readership--Blogdex has listed me as inactive, and all but the most loyal of my blog acquaintances have de-linked me. Back to the beginning, says Inigo. When we need Vizzini, we go back to the beginning.
When the timing is right, he'll do the Big Fix. You'll get your Great Big Welcome Back Post, and the dirty details of my night with an escort, and I'll have something to keep my brain engaged at work. Until then, I write surreptitious entries and email them to myself--my mail traffic has been disturbingly light; this keeps me feeling loved. Even if it's only self-love.
...
If I were a different kind of woman, I'd make some excuse for the way I've felt lately--but I know it's purely hormonal, I'm PMSing like mad. I can't stand people right now, I want to indulge my inner psychopath and make good on promises of gory killing sprees. I'm completely without patience or understanding--"What, you're dying of a brain cloud? pfft." and I find myself taking out unrelated frustrations on my poor sweet Boy. He does his best to understand, cheer and cajole me into a) feeling better or b) having sex, which often leads to feeling better. Little things get under my skin and make me want to scream: "There are onions on this veggie bagel? GRAH!" and then the fury dies down and I sheepishly peel the onions off and eat my damned sandwich.
...
We had dinner at the world's scariest bbq place Sunday night--the boy and I have been ruthless in our pursuit of decent down-home bbq in this town and have come up empty-handed for the most part. So we see this place last night, we'd driven past it a million times--we go in, and it's like walking in to someone's living room in the projects...it was the kind of filthy that will never be clean again, no matter how much you try to clean...but it smelled so damned good, and we'd heard good things about the place, so we stayed. The guy who was running the place last night looked like one of the cast members from Deliverance, and sounded the part--we asked for a menu, he said, "Chicken, Ribs, Hotlinks and Hushpuppies, and greens and beans of course...whut else y'gonna need? Y'all firsttimers?" meekly we answer "Yes?" and he says he'll set us up with "The Hookup for Two". We sit at a table piled with old newspapers and a datebook, cracked salt shaker and a tin of ground pepper. He says to help ourselves to the drinks, and we do--water for me, ginger ale for the boy. He runs back and forth setting out platters and bowls of food--everything on the menu, basically. We dig in, and it's good, very good and messy as all hell--exactly the way bbq should be. We ask if they really deliver (delivery in this town is almost nonexistent.) and he says no, because the owner lost his license for...*he stops and thinks*..."Health reasons".
I've been feeling kind of queasy this morning--I have a feeling it's my brain recalling glimpses I caught of the kitchen.
...
Watched approximately nine days' worth of television in an hour and a half last night--I would have felt guilty but for the 45 minutes of "power yoga" and the 200 crunches performed upon arrival home. Included in that nine days of television (I'm going to make that into a carol about Sweeps Week) were the first seven episodes of "Vegas Showgirls: Nearly Famous". I'd been looking forward to it for several reasons, a) I (heart) "reality" teevee; b) I (heart) showgirls, vegas, all things vegasy, unwieldy ostrich-plumed headdresses, etc.; c) who can resist a show with be-thonged asses in the trailers? It was so very very bad, though--all this talk of "What will I do if I get cut? My life is so hard!" to which I replied with a resounding "Cry Me A Fucking River!", which is not to say that I've got it tough, I know I'm a princess, and a slutty princess at that...but sheesh! If you don't want people judging you by your looks, and if you don't want to parade around in skimpy bikinis, then don't be a showgirl! It seems quite simple, really. What a waste of mass--all these beautiful women, and then they their mouths...Why won't they just stay quiet? It would make me so much happier.
...
Speaking of making me happier, have I mentioned how greatly my quality of life has improved in the last year? It's about that time, you know--April 2nd will be the one-year anniversary of Every Little Thing I Do Is Magic. I promise, something big and exciting is in the works.
...
I just peanut-buttered my graham cracker with the handle of my knife. I'll take that as a sign to stop multitasking (writing blog entry, half-heartedly doing work, peanut-buttering a graham cracker, cycling through my U2 collection, making fun of people who walk by my desk) and focus on one thing (peanut-buttering a graham cracker), and make my exit.
Also: A shiny-bright nickel to the first person who can name all the movie references in this post.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:44 AM March 01, 2002
Another late start--I can only apologize. Over and Over and Over again.
Made my first mix CD last night (shut up, i know i'm a phreak), wanna see the track list?
1.) Perfect World, Liz Phair
2.) Stolen Car, Beth Orton
3.) She's The One, Robbie Williams
4) Love Like Laughter, Beth Orton
5) Into Your Arms, The Lemonheads
6) I Want You To Want Me, Dwight Yoakam
7) Gin & Juice, The Gourds
8) Whip Smart, Liz Phair
9) Central Reservation, Beth Orton
10) My Favorite Game, The Cardigans
11) Only Straight Girls Wear Dresses, CWA (Cunts With Attitude)
12) Turning Japanese, Liz Phair
13) Freaks Of The Industry, Digital Underground
14) Around The Way Girl, LL Cool J
15) Me Myself and I, De La Soul
16) Country Grammar, Nelly
17) Loungin' (Who Do Ya Love?), LL Cool J
> Is it just me or has this Emo thing exploded everywhere? It's like
> watching a cement truck spill on the highway.
Yeah it's enough to make you want to puke. Sensitively. Anybody who calls
themself emo might as well just replace 'emo' with 'unstable, most likely
unfunny, and reveling in it, punch me in my fat face'
...
He is the funniest fucking man on earth, I promise.
...
More later. more promises. Man, I should not feel as guilty as I do about this...but I do! I know that you're there...waiting...watching...wanting...for me. To justify your love.
I'm starting to give myself the creeps with that song. I'll go back to the Gourds' cover--the banjo is driving my boss nuts.
