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inquiries, observations, and the occasional story about my dog


Thursday, July 18, 2002

The Summit Reached its Summit: Lame-ass bar's demise goes by unnoticed

I just found out that the bar on the first floor of the building in which I work is closed. Apparently, this happened a few months ago. I had no idea! I'm not heartbroken or anything. But I feel kinda stoopid about spending 10 hours + a day in this building and not noticing. It fancied itself to be some sort of high-end establishment, and was a virtual shrine to Old Blue Eyes. The walls were covered with photos and paintings of Frank and his music, exclusively, was played. It was freaky. Plus, a waiter once told me, after I ordered a Newcastle, that they don't carry that wine. When I interviewed for this job, my lunch interview was conducted there. The veggie meal I got was messier than necessary; eating it without getting it all over the front of my suit was labor-intensive and thoroughly stressful. So anyway, my point is that a former coworker of mine is in town briefly and we were going to grab a drink after work. I said, let's meet at the bar downstairs and she said cool, but the bar is closed and I don't have her cell phone number. Oh well. I guess we'll go across the street to another lame bar. And so it goes.

Wednesday, July 17, 2002

Weddings and babies, weddings and babies....

Today, within the space of about 30 minutes, I received three e-mails: one included the picture of the mighty big engagement ring, and the other two included several pictures of babies. It's enough to drive one batty. What's worse is that I found myself cooing over both the ring (ok) and the babies (not okay), AND I started thinking that having one might be fun. Fun? I had to do a quick self-check after the cooing to make sure I was still here and hadn't been kidnapped by the biological clock mind snatchers.

Hmmm. Not to much to blog about today. I'll be getting my car back from the garage after work. Turns out the battery was bad, which is what I suspected all along. I am so glad that that is all it is. I live in fear of starter motors or alternators similar mechanisms dying on me. Let alone the timing belt.

Last night, I spoke with my friend who got engaged last Friday. He is really stoked about it; it's cute. His mom's jeweler conducted a worldwide search for the diamond he wanted for the engagement ring. It has a rare, old cut, and only two were found that met his specs. One was flawed, the other perfect. It's the center stone in a platinum setting, and is flanked by four channel-set diamonds, two on each side. All told, the ring is like 2.5 carats. That's mighty big.

Tuesday, July 16, 2002

The more I think about it, the more pissed I get at Superchunk for skipping out on my locale. Don't they know how much I love them??? Don't they??? I would send them a whole case of white peaches if they would come just a little bit closer. A whole case.

The White Peach is wholly under-celebrated! This is one delicious fruit that constantly lives in the shadow of the spotlight-hogging Georgia Peach. LONG LIVE WHITE PEACHES!

I just spent the last hour fooling around with this thing. It got all kinds of screwed up. But I think everything is fine, now. That helped my mood, really. Ahem.

Today's Horoscope:
The devil you know is always better than the devil you don't. Assuming, that is, you like a dull tedious life. If you enjoy learning, if you thrive on adventure, if you hate to keep doing the same thing day in and day out, you need to go out and introduce yourself to a few more devils. Right now, you appear to have put yourself on the Devil's R US mailing list. You are being all but bombarded with invitations from red-faced fellows with horns and tails and tridents. These though, of course, are all devils you know. The more interesting types disguise themselves in smocks and halos.
Ugh. I have been such a slacker, re: blogging. Everytime I go to Blog I look at the white screen and decide I don't have anything really worthwhile or funny to say. To coin the cool phrase oft used by my best girl: as of late, I have been all out of clever. So I've been selfish, reading other blogs and getting out of them what I can while not contributing at all. So here I am, albeit in the grips of a hot-tempered PMS-scarred morning. I mean it. I am irritable, with a capital "I."

I had this horrible dream last night. I was somewhere in the city, driving to a house party of sorts. On the side of the road I see a fat man in a business suit standing by a pick-up truck. His suit is too tight and he's looking somewhat blueish-red, like he's going to have a stroke or a heart attack or something, so I stop and ask him if he wants any help. He stammers out a yes, and then, out of the bushes walk two more business men. They are coming toward me and I know that this is all a trap. Fat man was the lure and and I was caught in the net. The two men said something to me like, "don't say a word, we'll have to take care of you now," to which I (dumbly?) respond, "I won't say anything to anyone, just let me go, okay?" And one of them says, "Damn right, you're not going to say anything," and pulls out of his pocket a syringe. I knew that there was some sort of amnesia-inducing drug in that syringe and I wanted no part of it but before I knew it, he grabbed me and jammed the needle in the back of my neck. It felt hot. I expected that I would immediately forget everything, but I didn't. I sort of stumbled off and was all of a sudden at this house party to which I had been heading. I spent the rest of my dream at the party, pretending I was fine and went upstairs and packed a bag with a jean jacket and some other things and said goodbye to my friends and parents. Then I woke up with a start, remembering that I needed to get to the mechanic because my car needs a tune-up like there's no tomorrow.

Said tune-up will cost about $500. I'll prolly need a new battery, too, because she (my car is so a girl. A butch ass-kicker) has been having trouble starting, like the battery won't keep a charge. This started after I got back from the reunion. I'm all unsettled when my car's not in working order. I love my car. Well, I love cars in general. I spend a great deal of time drooling over them. But, what I have really been drooling over lately is a Vespa. I want one SO badly. They have these Vespa tours through Italy and I want to GO like you wouldn't believe. This will happen, of course, in the midst of my trips to New Zealand, Africa, Alaska, and freakin' Bali. Shit, I'll just take the damn Vespa throughout Europe. I have a friend who's living in Amsterdam right now. She and her boyfriend are driving around Europe for a year and I am so jealous.

So my girl loves New York City and she Blogged about her boyfriend saying that he doesn't want to live there. I have had this conversation before, several times, and it's hard. It's like, you're glad they are being honest with you and all, and you know (prolly, begrudgingly) that your life won't be played out in the huge city but you just want to try it; take a summer and live it. Be there. Roll around in it and struggle and love it and try it all out with an open-ended ticket to come back to the midwest where life really is quite grand. I've dreamed of this, too. Totally. Totally! In my past life I was a cranky Jewish woman from Brooklyn. It's true. I think we should plan a trip. An adventure. What do you think? I'd go absolutely anywhere with you.

So I found out a friend of mine got engaged Friday night. Ever feel like you're the turtle and everyone else is the hare? I'm okay with this. Slow and steady wins the race.