Wow
I admire everyone who dares go to the Oscars, even the people I don't like. There's such a huge potential to say or do something that is so dumb nobody ever forgets it (see Field, Sally) or just to be so annoying that people just start to hate you for it (Zellwegger, Renee).
Plus, I like to look at the pretty dresses, and say how much of a better job I could do of dressing some people. Like Diane Keaton. Because what the hell was she thinking?
On with the show.
Keep in touch
No amount of money could convince me to go back to high school as a student. It just wouldn't be worth it. I liked my friends, but the whole process of high school was torturous and scarring. There's just no way. I couldn't wait to graduate and go to college, to see new faces and experience new things. The friends I have at home all graduated from high school with me, although most of us weren't especially close then. I thought that I was in contact with all of my former classmates who I liked, but the past week has been sort of wild; seemingly out of the blue, I've reconnected with five of my friends from high school who I haven't spoken to in a very long time. I'm so used to being the way I am now, I forget that some people don't know me this way. It's good to have the chance to take a step back and think about how I got to be where I am today.
Get thee behind me, Satan
I've just started attending a
new church; it has several locations for the various Sunday services and weekday meetings. So far, I've been to the evening service that is held in the Village, and also to a small group that is located on the Upper West Side. I took the subway to get to both of these locations, and I realized that in addition to being the location of various Journey activities, they have something else in common: across the street from my subway stations are Urban Outfitters stores. To have my major weakness on the same street as my church is difficult but understandable; the store had to be located somewhere, right? But to also have it on the same street as the study group that I'm in? That's just wrong. I can resist only so much.
Somewhere, in a largely ignored park in a semi-tropical setting, G-d and Satan are sitting together, playing chess and discussing Barbie and Ken's incestuous relationship and later divorce,
George W. Bush in 41.2 seconds, and my tendency to forget all about budgeting every time I see an Urban Outfitters.
Get out of my head!
I went to the
Times Square Church this past Sunday, and while I enjoyed myself, I'm not sure it's the church for me. Still, the choir there is superb, which I always appreciate. I just wish I knew the name of one of their songs; I only know the part that kept being repeated, "Let your glory Lord, your glory fill this place." I think that's it, but when I google those words, I come up with lame songs that are not even close to what I heard. And the harmony! Beautiful. It may be an original piece, but I wish I knew. I guess I'll have to email the church and hope that somebody cares/knows enough to get back to me on this.
Admit it
There's nothing funnier than a good story about sodomy.
I don't have one, but I know they're funny.
Some perspective, please
It's only Sunday night, and already I'm depressed about Monday morning.
The best thing about Mondays: eventually, they end.
Treat a good blog like a cold...or something
There are many blogs that I enjoy reading, and when I find something I like, my first urge is to share it with my friends. Problem is, the internet is one big game of Six Degrees, and I don't want most of my friends following seemingly random links only to find themselves here, at my little blog (unless I specifically gave them this address). I'm not ashamed, as I tell nothing but the truth, but still...they hear this stuff all the time. I don't want to Alyssa the story (the habit of telling the same story to the same people multiple times, named after my dear buddy Alyssa from Oklahoma) or anything. Why'd I even start thinking this? I added a new link, over there to your right. Enjoy, dears!
Ugh
The whole world smells like sickness. Will be back when I'm better (or at least better medicated).
Shhh! It's a secret
New Yorkers: if you're looking for a bar that will let you smoke and don't mind overpriced drinks and the color red, head over to bauhaus (196 Orchard St, between Houston & Stanton).
Well, at least that's something
I know that no matter how cracked out my own life seems to be, there is someone, somewhere on The WB who has it far, far worse than I do. And suddenly, life is, if not okay, at least a little more bearable.
Typical
It's such a cliché thing to do, but when I am stressed out, I shop. A lot. This past week has been rough for a couple of reasons, and I now find myself with some really great clothes that I absolutely didn't need to buy. This habit of mine has only been around for a couple of years, since I've been able to afford freak-out shopping sessions, but it is worrisome. I guess that good part of this is that there have been some pretty great sales lately, so at least I'm not spending as much as I could be. I'm just finding it hard to stop now that I've gotten started, and the stressors in my life don't seem to be going away any time soon. On the plus side, if you need a date to a semi-formal or formal engagement, I've got the perfect dress...
Now I just need to go get some matching shoes.
Realization
Babysitting is the best form of birth control.
Ever.
Hmmm
The people at my job love nothing more than an excuse to make food. Tomorrow we're supposed to be bringing in food, as a celebration of Valentine's Day (I'm celebrating Friday the 13th). Anyway, what should I make? I have no idea what I want to bring, but I've been in a cooking mood lately, so it doesn't have to be anything terribly quick or easy to make!
Young and free
I was over the whole chocolate thing for better than a year; I could eat a piece of chocolate, enjoy it, and leave it at that. Now, though, I am suddenly a slave to my body. I've devoured four chocolate bars in the last 24 hours, and I stopped only because I ran out. Now I'm sitting at my desk, an hour into my shift, trying to remember whether the cafeteria downstairs carries chocolate, and whether I should buy any more.
Question?
How does one go about looking busy? As unprecedented as this is, I've been facing free time for the better part of the last two hours. I managed to find stuff to do earlier, but now there's just nothing. For the last 15 minutes, I've been tearing sheets of paper that I no longer need into four squares so that I'll have scrap paper. At this rate, I'll never run out.
Oy
I am my company's Quality Assurance department, which means that I need to figure out who messed up and why. My contact at our parent company is this moronic woman who often makes my job more difficult than it needs to be, simply because she is unable to retain the smallest of details. I have to repeat everything to her three or four times, and then she ends up believing that whatever I've suggested was her idea. Fine, I don't really care. What irks me is that she keeps wasting my time, having me email and call her five or six times about the same details of the same matter, or asking me dumb tangential questions that aren't even remotely related to what we are working on.
I just want to start my next letter to her with the words:
Simple, simple woman -
Okay, I'll admit it
99% of the drama in my life occurs because I have nothing better to occupy my time. I need a hobby.
Dear Quentin Tarantino
Stop trying to steal my culture.
Thanks.
Creepy
Why doesn't Prince age? We were watching him on the Grammys, and he looks as young as he did when he first recorded "Purple Rain." That's both awesome and wrong.
Yikes
I couldn't sleep last night, and a really scary thought occurred to me:
Jessica Simpson is somebody's favorite singer. I think that my insomnia and general desire never to think of this woman combined to make this thought more horrific than it needed to be, but it still gave me the chills.
Yum
The woman who sits in the workspace across from mine wears "Very Sexy" perfume by Victoria's Secret. Generally, I don't pay too much attention to most perfumes, but I have to agree with the title - that stuff is very sexy. It smells just like Fruity Pebbles.
As if I wasn't hearing enough voices
Ever since last week, when I saw Margaret Cho's comedy specials "I'm the One that I Want" and "The Notorious C.H.O.," I have not been able to get the voice of Margaret's mom out of my head. I keep hearing, "I am
sooo happy! So happy!!" at the most inopportune times.
Also, I just want to go up to people and say, "Hello, my name is Gwen, and I'm here to WASH your vagina!"
I am deeply touched.
Welcome back
I am currently taking a three minute break. I arrived at work this morning - 25 minutes late, missed my damn bus - to find five days' worth of work on my desk. And as if that's not bad enough, it's not even all my work. One supervisor is on maternity leave and another just resigned, so I get to do all of their stuff, on top of what I was already supposed to do. I don't actually mind taking over other people's work, it's just that five days worth of her work, his work, and my work makes for a lot of stuff for me to do.
I ain't mad at ya
I am currently in Virginia, visiting people who I haven't seen in way too long. I meant to put up a short message on Friday morning about my minivacay, but I was running out of time, so I just didn't. Like I said earlier, the airplane was way too expensive, and the bus was out of the question, so that left only the train, which was actually rather reasonably priced. I set out from my house on Friday morning, so excited to be going away. I got to Penn Station 40 minutes before my train was scheduled to leave, only to find out that it was delayed for 20 minutes. That was fine, but when, 30 minutes later, the delay was still at 20 minutes, I was concerned. We finally got out of the train station an hour and a half later, but that's a different story for a different day.
When I arrived in Washington DC, I decided that I was hungry, so I got a pretty decent-sized meal. Only minutes later, I realized that I could not finish my food, but I kept trying for a few more minutes. Just when I was about to give up and throw away the remains of my lunch, a man came up to me and asked me for the remained of my lunch. I was rather shocked, since I am used to the guys in New York who would rather ask you for your money than your food. It took me a second to recover, but then I told him that yes, he could have my lunch. Since my food had been the only thing keeping me there, I started to pack up the rest of my belongings so that I could leave. The man I'd given my food to then asked me, "You aren't mad, are you?" I told him that I wasn't, and that I'd been finished with my food anyway. Then he asked me again, "You sure you're not mad? Cause I could give it back." Rather than letting him know that if I hadn't been finished with my food before, I definitely was by this point, I just repeated that I wasn't angry and that he should eat the food if he wanted it. He then decided that I was indeed upset, and returned the food to my table saying, "All you had to say was no," as if I'd been shooting him death glares since handing over my plate. Then, as I had started to do before, I threw away the remains of my plate, and left the eating area. I felt bad for the waste of food, which is something that I really hate to do, but I felt even worse because the food could have been eaten and wasn't.
