Bringing Hangovers Back

Dollaz
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

If these glasses are any indication of the amount of fun I had last night...
Well. Let them be every indication.

Electronic Blood Pressure Monitor

Burt, the Custodian Who Calls Himself Grandpa, just visited me twice in the last 15 minutes.
He came to pick up garbage. Twice. I am not complaining. Better than missing the garbage twice when it needs to be removed. When he found that I had none the second time, he said, "I like you."
I smiled.

It brings up two things for me:
1. I'm afraid of memory loss. I already have enough trouble trying to distinguish my dream recollections from actual history. Post-it notes cover the entire surface of my desk (and desktop. Thanks, Post-It Notes Lite!). I make two item lists.
2. I hope public opinion of me doesn't center on my garbage production.

Words From My Father, Who Should Not Be Left Alone Anymore With The Old Person Dictionary Of Obscure Phraseology

"She can't buy a pig in a poke."
"What?"
"She can't buy a sow in a bag."

Lonely At The Top (Or, Good Thing I Have A Heart Of Stone)

What sucks:
"Hey! New office. Everyone's jealous."
"Yeah, I love it. It's great."
"I mean, how do they make these decisions?"
"Uh."
"Just...wow. I mean, this is a nice set up. New furniture... And a window."
"Yeah."
"Ok. Well, I'm cool with it. No big deal."
"Yeah."

What rules:
I have a new office. With a window.

Boredom + Google Searches + Emergency Chocolate = Danger

Resistance is growing thin.
Please send help.
And.
If this doesn't make your blood rush just a little, we can't be friends.

For The Record, I Thought It Was A Prop.

Another recounting of public embarassment. This time, not my own.
There I sat at lunch, casually observing passers-by in that awkward education conference way: quiet and respectful without making eye contact that might lead into a conversation. Creamsicle* padded down the hall chatting into her cell phone. The conversation sounded confidential, but pleasant enough.
I saw her see the child-sized chair.
I was skeptical that it would hold her.
And then....
Crack. Fall. Still on phone. Mumble. Vacate.
When I picked the pieces up after she had left, I found that the plastic chair was without bolts. As if someone had puzzled it together for just such a careless visitor.
It wasn't me.
Seriously.
But if I were going to do something like that, I would have left a video camera running and brought someone attractive to have her sign a media release.

*I do not know her name, but she wore orange and white. And I was eating.

Soggy Days, Stoppard Plays, Blank Verse, Pudding

11 am:
pudding

12 pm:
In honor of the natural gloomy light pouring in the window, I've put on only one small light in my office.
"You do have another light switch. It's right here."
"I know. I like it like this. I feel cozy."
"Uh huh."
I can almost guarantee that I would be working better right now in sweatpants with a fleece blanket.
A wide field of construction dirt is turning into a rainy mudriver outside. Galoshes left at home yet again. Dammit. Why did I not anticipate a Wonka creation?!

12 am:
Saw Stoppard's The Real Thing last night and have been haunted by pithy material all day. Alas, the more I try to remember, the less I can. Panic! At The Laptop. If only there had been a line to remind me about bringing galoshes to work I could have remembered text and danced in acid rain.

I Used Occam's Razor For A Close Shave

This morning NPR featured a story about Mr. Wang's Button Factory. His tiny town is responsible for 60% of the world's buttons. Buttons Are His Destiny.

What it must feel like to have purpose? Why am I worried about Purpose in August? This ennui should stay in the storage closet until winter like my warm clothes.

I realize that it has been months since former professor and oft quoted* Hardy wrote, asking me about my goals and still I have none.

So I went to Anthropologie and met Rin for ice cream.
The simplest explanation is always the best.

I could have told you, too, about my lackluster day during which I worked for three hours editing a video to lose it all in the saving process. But I'm afraid you might learn that I'm dull-brained enough to permanently delete items that I needed. It shouldn't be called the "Recycle Bin" if it means "Trash. Don't Put Anything In Here If You Expect To See It Again."


*"A fast-rolling turd smells less."
"Pontiac, Grand Am. We Build Excitement."
"Would you like to hear the duck call? It goes.... here, ducky, ducky."

Leg Hair, A Close Third

I wish for
1. Armpit hair to all grow at the same rate.
2. World peace

Betty White Goes Blue

I dropped a lens cap yesterday at a wedding. Made a big sound when it fell from the balcony during a break in the music. No one was hurt, but when Matt looked back at me I ripped into him like whodoyouthinkyouarethatshitwasaccidentalIwillkillyouifyoudon'tstoplaughing. After which I was ready to cry.
Imagine being William Shatner.
In fact, imagine being anyone in the audience, or on stage, or the camera crew. Anyone in the venue is subject to public humiliation. And an alarming number of gay jokes.
And Farah Fawcett's bra strap.