kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brain Vomit Here are my thoughts today in no certain order�please don�t be disappointed if they are terribly dull, or self-absorbed, or just generally stupid. They�re my thoughts after all and I never claimed to not be any of these previously mentioned things. Oh yeah, I have claimed to not be stupid, or at least to have a crippling fear of being stupid. But I digress� Shit. C. just called and I have to go grocery shopping now. Which just goes to prove, at the brink of what have been a divine stroke of writing inspiration, I am rather dull and have to schlep out into the arctic cold to buy skim milk and coffee. But I�ll be back� See? I�m back. But in all likelihood I have missed my chance at literary genius because now there�s college football blaring in the background (the Super Bowl of college football I�ve been informed which is why I�m banished from TV land for the night). It was going to come. Honest. But nonetheless, without further ado, here are my thoughts for the day � 1. I�m not really that much fatter than I was before the holidays. Which means that I�m not really fat at all, despite how much I gripe. I have been going to the gym maniacally which seems to have headed off all the chocolate and macaroni I felt compelled to stuff down my gullet in the spirit of holiday festive-ness. I now belong to two gyms, which inspires me even more to get off my ass when I realize I�m tossing $200 a month away just so I can have someone yell at me to �Move faster�, �Pick my legs up higher� and �Feel the burn� or whatever it is that the instructors say as they bop around in their ridiculous little workout outfits. I�m there with them, bopping right along side, in my own ridiculous little workout outfit. 2. I have an inordinate amount of gray hair that pops from my center part in shocking little pubic hair like curls. This hair doesn�t take to color very well although I�m sure the situation would be much worse if I didn�t surrender to the dye pot on a regular basis. 3. I think I may be allergic to the fancy wool upholstery on the desk chair in my all white newly remodeled office at the job I hate. Or maybe I�m just allergic to my job. 4. The New Yorker is probably the most brilliant magazine out there. Just holding it in my hand makes me feel like a better person. And reading it�forget about it. When reading it I feel like the world has meaning as long as people can write like that. Plus, the cartoons are funny. 5. We had a dead mouse under our kitchen sink for weeks. Well, actually it�s still there. Only it doesn�t smell anymore. I try not to think of the incredibly disgusting decomposition that is taking place in such close proximity to where we eat, run our dishwasher and open bottles of good wine. Our friend Rosie who is a grown up and knows these kinds of things, told me that the only thing to do aside from tearing apart the entire kitchen, is to wait for the little rodent to rot and therefore stop smelling. We had a pest guy here who gave under the sink a sniff, and announced �Yup, definitely smells mousey�. He then promised to hose down the kitchen with some �deactivating� agent that would then make our apartment smell like chemical, lemon-scented, dead mouse. Then he never showed up again or returned our calls. Turns out Rosie was right, mice are small, they rot pretty quick and now the little bugger (may s/he rest in peace) no longer stinks. 6. Patrick sent me an email and finally said those blasted little words��Why don�t we meet for a coffee if you�re so inclined�. Coffee. How innocuous. After a year of email babble in which I�ve managed to convince myself that I hold no ill will and that I�m being super mature and grown up about the fact that he ripped my heart out of my chest and then did one of his stupid little African dances all over the fecking thing. Part of me wants to see him just so I can be reminded that a) he wears stupid pants and b) he is a self-absorbed prick. Besides, I�m in love with C. who is everything Patrick never was or could be. Mainly an adult who is willing to commit. So what do I care? In all likelihood I could manage coffee just fine. I would never, ever cheat on C. But there�s always the chance that I�d lose my mind and convince myself that I was still madly in love with Patrick. I don�t think it�s such a good idea to put my fingers in my happy little pot and muddle around tempting disaster. 7. Fuji apples have got to be one of the best foods on earth. 8. If you�re a vegetarian (which I�m not, or at least not really) never, ever eat at Gotham Grill. You�ll starve to death. Although if you ask real nice they�ll make you a veggie dish that resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa which is really tasty. Also, their rolls scrape the hell out of the inside of your mouth making you feel like you have canker sores. 9. C. and I walked by a homeless man on the street tonight with a Burberry scarf tied Jimmy Hendrix style around his head. The irony of this did not escape us. Okay, that�s all for now. I�m going back to read The New Yorker which has some pretty amazing stuff in it this week in case anyone�s interested, especially a great piece of fiction �Jamaica� by David Schickler whose collection of short stories �Kissing in Manhattan� had some real high points, especially the story �Smoking� which incidentally first ran in The New Yorker, which just goes to prove�they got some dern fine story tellin� in that thar mag. La di da. La di da. 9:24 p.m. - 2002-01-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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