kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dotcomedy No More Two entries in one day! If you�re even remotely interested in the beginnings of my week, here you go. So now it�s Friday and I am staring unemployment and the possibility of ultimate ruin (or at least the end of professional pedicures) in the face. Then again, this could be my first step towards greatness. In all likelihood, the outcome will be somewhere in between these two, � ruin + � greatness = real life. Actually, as is usual for a pansy assed non-risk taker like myself, I have covered my tush a bit and have agreed to freelance at dotcomedy for a bit. But I am taking Monday and Tuesday off to do job hunting activities. You know, stare at resume and moan loudly, call everyone I know and find out who they know, drink way too much coffee and get jittery, start emailing resume to anyone who might be remotely interested (and probably several people who aren�t), have first of several panic attacks. Of course for every person that tells me that I�ll find a job no problem, there are several who tell me that this is one of the worst times EVER to be job hunting � then they look at me with great sympathy and I want to smack them (hard). So � noontime and I am wondering how I�m going to kill the next seven hours. Last night was uneventful. C. and I went to Tavern On The Green to meet friends for cocktails. Being the couple of old married�s that we are, we could barely keep our eyes open and quickly exited. It is lovely though, the outside bar at TOTG with little lanterns and white lights strung in the trees. I could have done without the huge King Kong shrubbery looming behind the bar, but who am I to judge? C. and I made it home and ate frittatas. I was pouty and tired. Finally broke down and told him that I was slightly upset (though fully aware it was not the biggest deal in the world) about my omission from the B-day dinner the other night. Had I been invited, which (need I remind everyone), I was not, I probably would have bagged out. I know that C�s best girl/friend doesn�t get to spend as much time with him as they used to, and I know that everyone wants to be the center of attention on their B-day (or at least I do), so I probably would have been really mature and nice and told C. to just go on his own and to convey a happy wishes message for me. Or at least that�s what I like to think I would have done. (insert huge guffaw here) Anyway, C. acquiesced that I did have a point and apologized. Then he pointed out that what I was really upset about was the fact that it made me feel like I wasn�t a significant enough part of his life to be invited to those �event-y/couple-y� type things. So then I asked him if he thought he was fecking Dr. Laura for Chrissakes (I didn't really say this, but in hindsight I really wish I had). God I hate it when he�s right. So v. aggravating. Truth is, I have always (from the very start) gone to all these things with C. In fact, I am now an expert on Long Island weddings and engagement parties. So to be omitted from this stupid dinner thing was a little unsettling. You see, most of the time C. is so amazingly good that when he does something even slightly off kilter I get all wonky. Yeah, okay, can we say �a little insecure� boys n� girls? I still panic when C. talks about the future in any way shape or form. First, the beach house. I couldn�t believe he was making all these �we� comments about our summer. This would mean that he fully planned on being with me (gulp) three months from now (horrors!). Now it�s the trip to Italy that we�re supposed to take in September (what is he? Nuts!!). Given the fact that P. couldn�t commit to anything more than two hours away, this all comes as a bit of a shock. Oh, a relationship, is this what it�s like? Who knew? Anyway � long story short, we kissed and made up. Nuff said. I�m ducking out early today to get my hair cut. I always wait until the last minute when my hair has what I refer to as the �Aging, burnt out hippie look�. Now, no offense to any aging, burnt out hippies who may be reading this, but I feel that I am more than qualified to know this look when I see it considering my childhood (which was spent with many not yet aging, although probably already burnt out, hippies). Believe me, I know this look well. So, 6:30 I am going to the salon armed with a picture of some gorgeous supermodel whom I will invariably in no way resemble after an hours time. Hey, at least I�m realistic. Best part of this whole ordeal is that I won�t have to blow-dry my hair tonight (major bicep workout, extremely tedious and vexing). Afterwards D�s siblings are coming over and we are having a wine and cheese thing at the house (more wine than cheese for me). C. and I are leaving for Shelter Island first thing in the morning (more glorious beach days!). My only sadness is I won�t get to see Nicks and Birdie and have lovely brunch foods (i.e. bagels and that heavenly salad with black olive dressing that gives you reeking breath for days). Kisses, kisses, kisses to them both. ok, ok. i GUESS we'll just have to do without your fabulous self this sunday... birds, we still on though? best to rub ole kiwi's face in it. she's got some runway italian man to do, uh... i mean STUFF to do. but seriously anger here kiwi, i haven't seen you in A YEAR! and it's high time you let us see how amazing you're looking and what you're wearing. Kiwi�s witty comeback: Go ahead, rub my face in it, I�ll just have to rub your faces in what fabulous Italian style sex I�m having. I do agree � it IS high time we saw each other though. For all I know Birdie REALLY is preggers and she�s just hiding it from both of us, and you dear Nicks, what happens to you when you move off to Boston to be a fabulous artiste and then fall madly in love? Me-thinks you might be glowing a neon-y green or something by now. As for me, I look the same (got rid of that nasty, stress-induced eye twitch I had). And right now I�m wearing baggy pants that I really fecking hate but that I spent WAY too much money on so I�m forced to wear and a black tank top (no bra thanks to the fact that it was biting and pinching me in the most unpleasant way and I whipped it off and flung it across the dotcomedy office space). I am badly in need of a shower and my aforementioned ratty, dirty, aging hippie hair is piled in a knot atop my spindly little head. Also must mention footwear. Scary fact is that despite many lovely little numbers I�ve acquired for summer (must stop, unemployment looms): sea green platforms (can we say fashion victim), sky high Sigerson M. black stilettos with tiny little ankle straps (v. sexy and kinda S&M fantasy-like), and the putty and black Chanel-like little kitten heels � yes, despite all of this � my absolute fave footwear is the pair of flip-flops that I wore out of the nail salon a few weeks ago and haven�t taken off since except when someone pleads with me to do so for fancy-like occasions. And that is all I have to say about that. La di da, la di da. 5:47 p.m. - 2001-06-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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