the black cargo pants record stands officially at 41 days. the tool broke down, in honor of the holiday season, and is wearing GREY pants today. they are no less gross than the black ones, but at least now i know he owns more than one pair of pants.
well, unless there was some laundry tragedy last night and these ARE the same pants.
some thoughts on xmas
this morning, on my drive to work, i realized why i can never muster up any true excitement over the holidays.
i'm too fucking lazy.
across the board, if it requires a mass amount of effort, i am absolutely not interested. i won't be completely miserable doing it, but if i had the choice, i'd be sitting on my couch pretending there are no bones in my body.
picnics and the like make me feel the same way. i remember once, my bosses were all happy to plan a picnic on a workday instead of having to work. everyone else was excited as well. the catch was that the picnic was to take place at boston light. yes, lighthouses are pretty rad. but when they sit on a giant rock in the middle of boston harbor, it requires a moderate amount of effort and planning to get a friggin' picnic going. besides, who cares that we're not actually working? i still have to get up early, put on work clothes, and deal with rush hour. it'd have been much more energy efficient for everyone if i could've just stayed in bed.
so we load up all my coworkers, their families, and every last utensil required to enjoy a picnic on a rock (including a giant grill) in a boat that is slower than molasses and head out to boston light. fun! we land, and it's low tide. so we have to haul all the shit up via pulleys and ladders. fun! there are wee little children who need super help getting up the 30 feet of rusty steel ladder. fun! we lug everything up the rock to the light. fun! we cook and play frisbee. fun!
the entire time, all i can think is how much shit we've got to cart back to the boat. and that people's families are around, so i have to smile a lot.
this is very close to the way i feel about xmas. i enjoy the idea of xmas. i like giving and getting presents. but the fucking set up. the forced good cheer. the money that i never had in the first place that i spend on gifts. any store parking lot in december. and the clean up after. ALL of it. throwing pretty paper away that was carefully picked out and paid for only weeks before. the thanksgiving-style dishes that pile up, when thanksgiving was a only a few weeks prior. putting ornaments away. taking down lights. the fucking tree.
someone should really think about separating thanksgiving and xmas. there's no need for them to play so close. maybe if i had a solid six months to prepare for each, i'd be better able to get some excitement going.
mele kalikimaka, mother fuckers!
thank you for making sure that my stocking stuffers made it in the mail on time. i was worried that stupid.com had screwed up my order. and now that i think about it, i shouldn't have just written that, because now some people will have an idea what might be in store for them.
thank you for letting me be with two different families on two different days this xmas. it'll be TWO gift extravaganzas instead of one.
thank you for sending my boss to vail for the week. though we're in the middle of a work emergency right now, and i'm not quite authorized enough to solve it. but i'm pretending just fine, thank you.
i hope the reindeer are ready for wednesday night.
you don't need to bother stopping by my place; you've given me enough this year already.
love,
monique
i broke down and got one of those ergonomic memory foam weird shaped pillows. it was on sale at target and i've been long intrigued, so i just bought the damn thing.
it's evil.
here's me when i lay down at night: this feels kind of weird. i don't think i like it. i should really give it a chance, but it feels sorta wrong. there's money i'll nevzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
and then i sleep like a rock. i don't even think i toss. or turn.
but waking up is an absolute bitch. evil memory foam. damn you, target.
everytime anyone comes over to my house, the trash is full. it's not always full. it only fills up for guests.
and then, inevitably, i bitch about my job and how i should be making more money for what i do.
in my head, the guest then thinks well, shit girl, you got enough money to make all that trash. maybe you should attend to your trash problem and everything else would fall into place.
i do make a lot of trash. just now i added two empty boddington cans. to the tippy top. they will fall to the floor if i stumble.
it's nice having windows media player on my computer at work.
now i can spend my friday watching things like this swirl around and around on the screen instead of hacking away at a spread sheet or some other such nonsense.
right now, the pretty colors are dancing to ryan adams. i think this shape danced especially well. it looked much cooler in its original colors. my computer crashed a few weeks back, and photoshop was killed instantly. now i have to use PAINT to capture images on the screen... something was definitely lost in translation.
speaking of, anyone seen that movie yet?
at dawn
it still moves
a flight and a crash
hearts of oak
chutes too narrow
the guest
twilight as played by the twilight singers
from here on in
sons of the p
comfort eagle
me and my friend jerry, after a season-two-buffy-marathon night, were watching mtv.
[you are watching music television. thank you.]
we were lucky, because britney's new video, "in the zone", came on.
after about ninety seconds, i said, "dude, something's gonna happen, right? i'm waiting for something good to happen."
jerry, leaning forward, said, "has the song started yet? i'm waiting for the song to start."
[in other news, i watched "rich girls" mere hours after watching "the simple life". i fear that, very soon, my brain is going to explode.]
i heard a rumor that it snowed in new york very recently.
or maybe it's snowing right now.
either way, i'm hella jealous.
december always makes me yearn for this. the feeling of downtown boston right before it snows, when it warms a few degrees to let you know it's coming. coldly walking from the north end to quincy market, because the only thing you can think about is clam chowder in a bread bowl. and yes, san francisco has beantown beat on the sourdough, but it's the soup that matters. walking on cobblestone. getting lost on sidestreets. remembering when it was warm enough to sit outside under a patio umbrella. soaking your shoes in slush and not caring. proudly displaying a static-y hathead (it doesn't matter, we're all wearing lame knitted caps). cold beer foam on your numb nose. stumbling home with a buzz. trying in vain to pack snowballs from dry soft powder. giggling in the snowy silence, your voice bouncing off the silent city brick.
i met him at the theatre. i had worked there up until i had left two months earlier. i was back for a two week visit before moving to connecticut. his name was scott and he was the college roommate of a friend of a friend. he was visiting with this friend of a friend. the friend worked at the theatre. it only took a few days of hanging out for some chemistry to happen.
and then i moved. i was lonely. i didn't know many people except the people i worked with, and i hadn't made it in good with them yet. columbus day was rolling closer. three-day weekend. i asked scott if i could visit. he excitedly said yes. i left in the early afternoon, hardly prepared for the twelve hour drive before me. (it would've been a mere ten, but i calculated wrong and ended up hitting the beltway at rush hour. it wouldn't be the first time i failed myself that weekend.)
i arrived at the dorm pretty late. we caught up, made out, and went to bed. he had spent considerable breath during the time we had known each other explaining to me how he liked to consider himself a virgin. he had only had one sexual relationship, and it was with an older woman. he felt she'd taken advantage of him, and was determined to save the next time for a serious relationship. i never pushed the issue. it was new. he was fun. sex could wait.
but only until later that night, apparently. that's when boys toss their lofty plans as soon as a warm body is next to them in bed. i had my doubts, but certainly didn't mind the turn of events. i was lonely. any port in a storm.
the next night, we went to a giant kegger house party. he couldn't drink, due to an allergy and a heart problem that i can't specifically remember. i, on the other hand, was just fine with the refillable red plastic party cup. i was outside smoking when i started talking to a girl. she had a ferret on her shoulder. she was nice. the ferret was cute. we talked for a while. she went inside. i couldn't find scott for a while.
i went inside, and there he was, talking to the girl with the ferret. it was obvious there was some flirting going on. i was initially glad. we certainly weren't going to happen as a couple, what with him in southern virginia and me in connecticut. how nice for him. until i realized that hey, he came to this party with ME. i said hi to them, then went back outside to smoke. the keg was dry. so i started drinking half-empty party cups, left all alone on the front porch. bolstered by tainted beer, i confronted him. i don't remember what i said. nothing horrible. enough for him to walk me back to the dorm.
the friend of a friend and his girlfriend were there. they were on their way to a frat party. they got most of the story from scott before he bailed to "take care of some stuff." i was decent friends with them, and they invited me along. i ranted most of the way there. and most of the way back when we found the kegs at the party dry. i was understanding in my rant, but still a bit hurt. sometimes, having sex with someone for the first time can do that to a girl.
we got back to the dorm room around the same time as scott did. turns out he was taking a walk with ferret girl. we talked. well, i just told him i was going to leave. he seemed moderately concerned about me leaving for a ten-hour drive at three in the morning. not concerned enough for me to think it'd be a good idea to stay. i was angry at his lack of verbage at the time, but looking back, i imagine he plainly didn't know what to say. i got fifteen miles out of town when i realized i had left my glasses. and i can't drive at night without my glasses. and it was bad enough i had hit the road buzzed. buzzed and blind wasn't gonna cut it. fuck.so i turned around.
i knocked on his window, and he woke up to let me in. i explained the glasses situation. he invited me to spend the night. that, yes, things were incredibly weird, but it was too late and i was in no condition to drive. the only place to sleep was next to him, so i hugged the wall and hoped for the best. the best was him getting very hand-y again. he resorted to the ol' roll and poke before i made it clear we were done. though it was tempting: maybe he likes me again. maybe he likes me better than HER. boys, beds, and lonely girls, i swear to god.
things were awkward but tolerable the next day. i showered and left. leaving the parking lot, i thought i heard a clacking noise coming from my tire. i figured it was nothing. i neared the highway, passing through town. a clunk. a hiss. a very flat tire. i pulled into a gas station. i called scott. "well," he said. "what do you want me to do about it?" nice.
this is where i taught myself to change a tire. three repair stations laughed at me (it was sunday, and the day before a holiday) when i asked if they could fix it. i finally found a tire shop open. eight bucks. thank god.
traffic was light heading up i-95 north. plenty of time to reflect on the weekend. i don't think i've ever been so happy to cross into connecticut before.
i never heard from scott again. a few years later, some friends of friends told me this: "man, people were pissed at you back then. couldn't believe what you did to poor scott."
yeah.
