katherine elise! you give us no peace! we'll call the police!
old quotes old times send me mail

- 31 October 2004 -

Aaugh! Quick! Before we run out of October!

Today's adventure. (Requisite pictures.)

What else? The red shoes still please me. I go to work, I swim, I cook. The other night on the way home there was a guy masturbating on the train, but no one else seemed to notice. The sweatpants are a dead giveaway.

I am going to do something interesting with myself ANY DAY NOW, really. In the meantime I have been cooking a lot, and reading the third book of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle trilogy. I think I will attempt homemade caramel sauce and sour cream ice cream for Wednesday's Top Model extravaganza. I think I will attempt copious amounts of alcohol for Tuesday's election. O God!

- 19 October 2004 -

Let's not talk about the election that is (God-willing!) coming up in (HOLY SHIT) a mere two weeks as I am already worked up into a lovely froth about it and all I do at work all day is obsessively read news and blogs (pfeh, blogs!) while Air America plays in the background all day every day OH MY GOD.

For the record, today I am wearing a shirt that reads:
Darnielle Vanderslice 2004

Hee. Anyway. Yesterday a customer paid with a custom-designed check that warned in fine print down by the signature line:
If I'm Not A Big Black Man
Don't Cash This Check!!


- 18 October 2004 -

Oh! Union Square! DSW shoe store! Grand opening! Shoes! Shoes! Clearance shoes! Shoes!

You know, you can get a membership-type-arrangement there, and when you spend enough money you get a gift certificate. It is possible you are already halfway there, in fact! If you are me! If you are me, then you have one new pair of cute red slightly ducky buckly shoes and one new pair of superdiscounted clunky brown leather fancypants Mephisto clogs (and with their purchase has departed what little straight-person cred you had remaining... good-bye, good-bye!) and you are most pleased.

- 16 October 2004 -

I bring you now a series of photographs entitled Why Does Squid Look Like That??

Jon Stewart on Crossfire is possibly the best thing I have ever seen. Oh my god.

- 15 October 2004 -

Whatever everyone else had over the past few weeks finally caught up with me a couple of days ago and was apparently unimpressed with my claim to a superhuman immune system and general indestructibility. I tried my favored technique of downing an entire half-gallon carton of grapefruit juice in the space of a workday, and I think it helped the bug on its way, but didn't totally conquer it. Also I got a lot of funny looks when people saw the big carton with a straw Scotch-taped to its spout on my desk. Not that I don't get a lot of funny looks anyway, with my Dance Like A Robot and Dance Like My Knees Don't Bend and Dance At The Copy Machine. So I took yesterday off and lounged about drinking tea and reading and drinking more tea. Last night Tiffany left for a short trip and was going to call me when she arrived, and apparently DID call me at some point, but I had no recollection of it as I was asleep and it seems I only woke up enough to bludgeon the phone into silence and stash it under my pillow to prevent further interruptions.

Plans for Lonely Weekend include getting lots of vegetables at the Saturday market and making lots of soup stock to stow in the freezer, buying organizational nonsense and cleaning the apartment, seeing Team America with work friends, looking for new shoes, selecting a new haircut.

Today I sent my future self an email; you can follow suit here should you wish to.

- 11 October 2004 -

I have corrected the split infinitive in the previous entry. Please forgive me.

This morning while unpacking the computers that had come back from being repaired at Apple I discovered two notecards in one of the boxes.

The first read:
Josh Walters

heard the killer rhym [sic] that goes "please don't let me fall asleep cause Meranda Smith will creep through my window to my room, stab me with a broken broom. When he woke up his light cut off and so did his. Meranda Smith was waiting under his bed.

The second had two columns full of names, one labeled "Die" and the other labeled "Helping." The last two names in the Helping column were Candy Man and Bloody Murder.

I sent it to Found Magazine.

- 8 October 2004 -

Apparently this morning sometime between when I left and when Tiffany woke up the cats shut themselves in the bathroom. She heard them meowing and looked around the apartment and finally realized they were in the bathroom with the light on, yowling.

Let me repeat that.

What the hell? How? Why? How can they be simultaneously so smart and so dense? I fear them.

I ordered a new swimsuit the other day (perhaps less than entirely wise, since I don't get paid again until next Friday. I have had to make IOUs out of Post-Its that say "I owe Monica 1 (one) Togi" because she keeps treating me to lunch.) because the old suit that I bought in Ecuador (after not packing one because, you know, who really wants to snorkel with sea lions in the Galapagos? Or float idly down an Amazonian tributary between thick walls of green jungle full of monkey noise? Oh, right, me.) gave up. It just... expired. Where there once was a fitted and stretchy swim-garment there is now a slightly discolored and very baggy sack. It is a sad state of affairs. The new one professes to be made of some space-age material that will not discolor right away or turn quite so promptly into a sack, and I hope that this is true. They claim that the fabric is environmentally friendly, but the fact that they need to point it out specifically makes me suspect it is actually made of the pelts of brightly-colored synthetic baby seals or something similarly wrong. Whatever, I like to swim. Especially when I let whomever is swimming in the lane next to me have a head-start and then effortlessly catch up and pass them. Even more especially when it is a big athletic guy wearing special hand-paddles to speed him up and super-aquadynamic swim shorts. Me and my saggy turquoise sack can take you. Pfft.

- 7 October 2004 -

Welcome to Fall! Please enjoy your sweater.

I am enjoying mine very much. Also, fuzzy bathrobe, two down comforters, knee socks, velvet jacket, and hoodies. This is my very favorite time of year and soon it will just be painfully cold and that will be sad. For now, fall.

Speaking of the knee socks, today I am mildly dressed up for no particular reason: jean skirt, black knee socks and black shoes, black dressy shirt, earrings. One of my co-workers remarked: "Hey! You're all dressed up today, wearing those earrings, and the... socks!"
What does that mean? What must I normally look like if SOCKS make me classy?

Speaking of work, last night was the first Big All-Company Meeting that we've had while I've been working here. Everyone stays after work for an hour or so and there is a lot of beer and soda and pie. Punch and pie, you guys! Pie! I had two pieces of pie and one beer and the owners told us how great we all are and how we will get Christmas bonuses this year because it is not as dire as it was this time last year. This would have been more convincing had a group of guys not stolen six digital video cameras 15 minutes before the meeting started. Alas.

Speaking of cameras, I will try to take some more pictures soon.

Speaking of me, I am doing very little. It doesn't bother me too much (yet) because I am as ever (with a few exceptions. years. whatever.) filled with a deep and inexplicable conviction that I am capable of essentially anything. I know this does not always come across in my demeanor, but it is embarrassingly true. My quietness is born not of insecurity but of a great deal of unfounded, judgmental, all-consuming self-confidence. Sweeeeeeeeeet! Now that I have confessed that, I am going back to work. Where I do nothing interesting or terribly productive. But I WILL. LATER. You know.