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the latest
waddle: good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03 elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01 building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19 ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09 my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04
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This week has been The Suck.* Work has been completely The Suck---nothing but computer "training" (Sit up and beg! Or rather, slump in your task chair and snooze!), big stupid meetings, and heaps of unpleasant tasks. My personal life has not been quite as much The Suck, although it has been crazy busy and social and there has not been quite enough time for some of my favorite activities such as reading and writing and sex. (I will not post exactly how long it has been, since I am fully aware that this is all relative, one woman's famine is another woman's feast, I am a girl who's Gotta Have It, etc.) *There should be a band called The Suck. During their set everyone will drink a lot and hope that it is over soon. And it is! Immediately following is the next band, called The Not Suck! And then everyone dances a lot and kisses each other. All this use of "suck" combined with my lascivious thoughts is giving me ideas. I keep accidentally making the double-entendres today. (1) When I showed up in a certain conference room for a business lunch, a girl stuck her head in and said, "Is French class in here?" and I replied, "No...we're lunching, not frenching." (2) A friend stayed over at our place last night before flying out to Texas, and today I eeled LT to ask, "Did you get Liz off?" meaning did you take Liz to the airport, not did you bring our houseguest to orgasm. We are thoughtful hosts but not that thoughtful. The only part of work that has not been The Suck was the day I had some really excellent soup. Bean Soup With Escarole was legitimately delicious in any context and not just in a "for cafeteria soup" way. Bean Soup With Escarole had its eyes on the prize! Bean Soup With Escarole was judged by the content of its character! I am fairly certain that changing famous civil rights speeches to be about soup sends you directly to hell! Lately I have been having terrible dreams, real horrorshow wake-up-sweaty-and-scared type stuff. The most vivid was an apocalypse dream that surprisingly was not terrorism- or war-based but rather a climate-change scenario. Some areas of the country were desert and others were flooding, and my house was in a flooding area, and LT and I were frantically packing and escaping with filthy water around our ankles, and then there was a long refugee-type scene with the typical lack of drinkable water, crying children, looting, danger, and so forth. This was really a classic anxiety dream for me, as it has all my anxiety elements of (a) Really Incredibly Fucked-Up Unfixable Situation; (b) emotional trauma and/or physical danger to my child from which I am unable to protect her; and (c) the immense amounts of STUFF needed for babycare and my mixed feelings about it. Much of this dream involved trying to stuff diapers and formula and children's Motrin into garbage bags, with all the attendant worry about not knowing where we were going or how long we would be gone. This morning I had breakfast with S, who is called "Sophie" in the book version of this online diary and something entirely different "in real life" (god I hate that phrase). We ate at the Hollywood Grill, a 24-hour diner at the somewhat-sketchy intersection of North and Ashland, and were seated near an entire table of hookers. I think it's so nice that all the area hookers go out for breakfast together! The Hollywood Grill should totally have a Hooker Special or a hooker discount or something. This same restaurant has a section of their menu for breakfast "skillets," meaning that they basically take a bunch of breakfasty items and pile them up on top of each other, and the skillets have the weirdest names. There is one called the "Hobo Skillet" and another called the "Wanderer Skillet," but that is where the theme ends, and unfortunately the diner did not continue with the "Diaspora Skillet" (yams, couscous, and chutney?), the "Cain from Kung-Fu Skillet," the "Army Brat Skillet," or any other breakfast combinations named after displaced and uprooted peoples. I kind of forgot what I was talking about. This entry is very much like a sad hooker tottering along in torn legwarmers and a fringed pleather jacket, so I am going to stop writing and take it out for breakfast before it gets any sadder and more bedraggled. ---mimi smartypants feels for you, even more than Chaka Khan does. back/forward |
