Today is the 181st day of the year. That means that tomorrow will be the 182nd, and there will only be 183 days left.
In other words, tomorrow, the year’s half over.
WTF?
Does anyone else feel like this year has just barely started?
I liked Brokeback Mountain. I thought it was a great film that addressed a controversial subject with style and grace.
That being said, my favorite thing about this movie is the phrase it gave us… the phrase that reminds me of an old phrase, one we used to use in jest. A phrase that for many, many, many years, always garnered a giggle…..
“You had me at hello.” —Jerry Maguire
Now we have…
“I wish I could quit you.”
Thank you, Brokeback, we needed that. 🙂
It’s been bloody hot here for oh, say, the past couple of weeks. We’ve had our good days and our bad, but in general, pretty damn hot.
I didn’t realize how hot it got in my apartment until today, when I worked from home, and found myself working up a nice shine.
So I finally got around to calling my landlord and leaving a message on their machine, asking if the Husband might come up one day this week and help me put my massive (we’re talking 10000 here) in the window).
Not five minutes after I leave the message, there’s a knock on my door.
Oh. my. god.
Did I mention it was hot? Do you know what normal people do when it’s hot and they’re at home and they live alone? (OK, Moo, Grampa, every guy who reads this.. minds outta the gutter thank you—sheesh.)
We tend to wear as little as humanly possible, so as to remain marginally decent, if say, a person across the street, two stories down, through the window, might catch a glimpse of a shadow moving about up here.
And like I said, I didn’t have air conditioning and it’s been hot. ::cough::
He knocked again.
I pulled open the door and said “oh, that was quick,” while simultaneously trying to become One with the door.
He said “Hi, getting hot up here yeah?” and bustled off to the living room, thankfully (dear sweet lord I HOPE) not looking at what I was wearing.
Um… very, very short soccer shorts my sister wore in eighth grade, that have a bit of an.. erm… sizeable hole in the frontal region and a tank top. And when it’s hot and you live alone, you don’t particularly find it necessary to wear anything under what you’re already wearing… yeah… erm.
IT’S HOT PEOPLE. Don’t spurn me. You do it too. 😛
So we moved the AC from it’s place in the spare room to the living room, and while he went out to the deck to make sure it lined up right, I bounded to my bedroom and put on more acceptable pants. Ones that had material everywhere that is necessary for one to not get arrested when walking down the street.
“OK, it’s all set,” he said. “You’re going to want to adjust that temperature. Wow, look at that, it’s 85 degrees in here. It is hot.”
The rugrats plunked themselves down in front of it and haven’t left there since. I now understand the hostile stares and cold silence I was treated too when I got home every day.
The landlord left quickly, not once commenting on the fact that I’d been wearing basically nothing to compensate for the temperature. I’m counting on him not really seeing much anyway, seeing as how it was semi-dark in here (almost, no lights on.. they generate heat), I hid behind the door and he was just way to bloody hot to care.
I hope.
I’m still blushing, sheesh.
My dear sweet friend J talked me into going to a party last night. She had said it was a cocktail party of sorts, but after some vague text messages, I ascertained the real point: sex toys.
So at about seven last night I found myself downing vodka with a bunch of nurses from a local hospital, watching a very nice lady demonstrate how to use various lubes, vibrators and dildos.
I came home completely tanked, toting a nondescript brown bag. 🙂
Everyone should go to one of these parties at least once in their life. 😉
As I sit here, drinking my Corona (garnished with half a lime) and watching the Kathy Griffin Show: The D-List, I wonder: does anyone else think this show is freaking hysterical?
Oh my god. Why is this funny?
I’ve been having an ongoing argument with someone recently.
I put a lime in a beer that wasn’t Corona (let me just say, the beer is really nasty tasting—I was trying to improve the flavor)… apparently this was total sacrilege to the beer. 😛
Whatever, not the point.
He kept saying, “You put FRUIT in the beer? You don’t put FRUIT in beer unless it’s Corona.”
First, who the hell calls limes fruit? Logically, I realize that they are a fruit (shut. it.), but I mean, come on.
It’s a LIME. You don’t eat it like regular fruit (alone), you use it a) as a garnish, b) to make limeade and c) as an enhancement (vodka, beer, guacamole ;)).
So you just say “lime,” not fruit. Right? Anybody?
My friend J is going to a Red Sox game and texted me last night, asking to borrow my camera.
This morning I pulled the camera off the shelf, grabbed my stuff and headed to work. Wisely, I checked to make sure the battery was good and that I had emptied the contents of the memory… I hadn’t.
215 images? From when? WTF was I doing with my camera for the past six months?
I started downloading to my computer a few minutes ago.
The first picture was a very cute yellow lab-type dog. Who’s is that? I don’t know a dog that looks like that.
The next was a butt. Who’s was that? It looks like.. no, yep, that’s the cousin’s husband… Ohhh, OK, then that means that’s her dog. Oh yeah, yeah, I remember that. Kinda.
Santa hats, trees and sweaters—ahh, Christmas, 2005. It’s all coming back to me now.
There are pictures of me interspersed with those of my cousins, my sister (um, was there some sort of fashion shoot that one of the little people did, ’cause I did not take these pictures, lol) and my parents. I look happy, healthy and tan (duh, I was going to go to Hawaii in a week)—and it’s odd seeing myself that way. I remember that night I got sick, just a little stomach thing, but we now know it was the beginning of the really bad illness. I’d had a drink or two and my liver had already slowed functioning and was unable to process it.
The next set of pictures were of me when I was sick. I vaguely remember us thinking it would be good to have a reminder (like I’m ever really going to forget)… there’s my eyeballs, my stomach, my chest and ahh yes, the battle bruises from the psycho nurse from hell. Yeah, never going to forget those.
It’s odd seeing your recent past, one that you can only partially reconstruct, flash before you. I don’t have any solid memory of Christmas.. I don’t remember taking these pictures of my arms and stomach. They’re blurry and out of focus, so I assume I was trying to take them—but I don’t honestly know.
It’s a very odd way to start the day.
Matt Nathanson finally came out with a new live CD and it’s fantastic. I’ve been listening to it nonstop for about a week now… and let me tell you, listening to this on headphones at work? Just make sure you don’t have a temp in the office, because the constant snickering had him thinking I was a total nutcase. Just ask the coworker. She finally couldn’t stand it and was all, “WTF?”
hehe
Go get this CD.. I’m not kidding. It’s one of those rare ones where every, single song is awesome.
A Line from Lie (The CD is peppered with dialogue.. he was actually in Boston when I was sick ::damn the sickness!:: but one of these days I’m going to see him live.)
Romeo and Juliet (This isn’t an original, but it’s such a fantastic take on a great song.)
Philadelphia Song…. and this one’s just hysterical.
Regina Spektor also released a new single (sister, you’ll want to download this.. and take it from here like I taught you!)… Samson. It’s the first song I ever heard of hers and I just adore it.
My cats are mad at me.
I haven’t put in the air conditioner in the window yet this year and it’s a bit warm in my apartment and they’re both sprawled on the kitchen floor, every last inch of their bodies splayed on the cool floor. I feel kinda bad, lol, but the issue is (yes, there is an issue.. shocking, I know) that the air conditioner is massive—we’re talking 160 lbs give or take and it requires drilling and screwing and etc. to get it in the window. So logically, my landlord did it last year and I’m hoping he’ll do it again this year…
The problem? What if I have to move? I’ll feel bad because it’s heavy and probably takes an hour to put in the damn window and I don’t want him to waste his time if I’m just going to take it out again in a month. Right? That makes sense, yeah?
It’s times like these that I miss having my dad around. I somehow have no problem whatsoever asking him to come over and fix things… like my cat’s on/off motion detector faucet that I broke (yeah, there’s another reason that they’re mad at me).
This year has made me realize how lucky I am to have the dad that I do, one who’ll search for every solution to figure out what’s wrong with me and who’ll move me back home and forcefeed me bacon and peanut butter until I’m better. And who’ll come visit me and spend the entire time fixing shower doors, faucets and putting better locks on the door.
I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Whoever I marry is really going to have big shoes to fill. 🙂