Saturday, August 18, 2007

 

There has been much doing. Six hours at work, a walk home, dinner, cleaning the house, working on A2O. Soon to bed...need to be at work early tomorrow. Billables uber alles.

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Ryan's life has become too good. He is seeing many sloths, but now he is getting all catty about how the sloths aren't as good as sloths he's seen in the past. This is an outrage. We should all count ourselves so lucky as to even glimpse a sloth, which is the most awesome of all animals. All sloths are precious, etc, etc...

It's not a thing that requires proof, but for all you sloth-deniers out there, I present you with the awesome glory of Sloth-In-A-Box.

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Cleaning house is one of the most psychologically advantageous things one can do. Right eye still itchy, red. Maybe I have pinkeye. Maybe I'm allergic to myself. Maybe my eye is mourning the fact that I have to go to work today. And tomorrow. And forever.

My eye should take heart from the fact that iTunes is feeding me a steady diet of Yo La Tengo and Sleater-Kinney.

Tonight...A2O and catching up on weeks of neglected emails. I still haven't gone to Ryan's to take a bath yet. I think I am emotionally better off knowing that I am denying myself a pleasure. Yes, I am perverse.

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Thursday, August 16, 2007

 

Today is one of those days wherein I find myself repeatedly repeating Pontius Pilate's line from Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita, which Bulgakov stole from Aida: Oh gods, gods...

Nearly done. Pondering another beer, a few more pages of Alone, what medicines or philosophies will sustain me through the next week (oh gods, gods...). What songs, what ornaments? What steely canyons of reserve? How much pasta can one woman eat to assuage the pain of having chosen to work in the legal profession?

I can take stock. I have a wooden duck and a gardenia plant and a stuffed viking. An eye that has been twitching and itchy and dry. A sore wrist. A broken blister on my foot. A pleasant heaviness in my jaw.

I shall take myself off. I'm doing you no good (nor myself). It would be better to sleep. I'll still be here when I wake up, after all. And in the meantime, I can visit, where? Aquariums are what I've been dreaming about lately. The darkness of the bottom of the simulated ocean, and everything sliding past you, slim and muscular, scaly and cold and impassive, the ocean something that lives for itself.

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Two Sides of the Coin

Bad!

* Work
* Bosses
* Stupid girl on subway who kept hitting me in the head with her purse! Get some spatial awareness. Damn!


Good!

* Gardenias
* Hot shower
* Memoirs of Admiral Richard E. Byrd. Six months alone in the antarctic winter? Sign me up!

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Pleasure Number 385619-B

The smell of cinnamon toast

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Wednesday, August 15, 2007

 

Charming Spam Subject Line of the Day

"Great sex? It is thinkable!"

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Tuesday, August 14, 2007

 

Hey Pronto! 10:41 EST! Shafer on the Radio!.

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Como le va?

I have a new motto written and posted on top of my work computer: I WILL NOT PARTICIPATE IN MY OWN OPPRESSION.

Other than that, I listen to Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, drink Pranqster, and secretly look up interesting things about bacon.

Tomorrow is Wednesday! Let all of us fans of the middle and the middling bow our heads and pray...

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Early tomorrow morning, Ryan leaves for Costa Rica, making me de facto owner of a bathtub for a glorious two weeks. I am already planning a visit to the Bath and Body Shop to load up on bubble bath, bath bombs, and other ridiculous bath-time accouterments. I already have some rubber duckies, and a series of books I would like to read but do not mind dropping in the bath.

Man, this is gonna be good.

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In my next life I am going to be a wooly-bear caterpillar. I will have a very thick brown stripe, indicative of a mild coming winter.

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The Joys of Overheard in New York

Little brother, running up street: Look at me -- I'm the 4 train!
Older brother, running next to him: Look at me -- I'm the 6 train!
Little brother: Stop running faster than me!
Older brother: Nuh-uh.
Little brother: Dad! Julio didn't stop at 33rd Street!

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Monday, August 13, 2007

 

Politics isn't just an excuse to bicker with your relatives; it's an excuse to break out the glue gun, drown yourself in googly eyes, and maybe accidentally staple your thumbs together. These Republican and Democrat-themed craft projects will help you express both your civic-mindedness and your obsession with glitter, all at a go.

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More proof that the British, and everything to do with them, are ridiculous.

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Happy Monday!

I have no words for this.

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The NY Times provides summaries of half-a-dozen or so Chinese knockoffs of Harry Potter. Like so:

"Harry has a painful time in his aunt's house, as Dudley has met a belly-dancing girl."

or, even better:

"Harry becomes a fat, hairy dwarf after being caught in a 'sour and sweet rain.'"

And here's a link to Bugmenot for those of you who resist the Gray Lady's fascist registration procedures.

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All's Right with the World

Dude. Rove resigns!

Now we must wait to see whether my initial glee will be replaced with despair when I learn that Rove is to be replaced with a superhuman cyborg powered by the combined DNA of Rove himself, Dick Cheney, and Douglas Feith.

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The Road (ha ha) to Clarity

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Dappled Things

Today on the way to work I saw a large slug, a butterfly, and a hound-dog. They were all very pretty.

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