kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hot in the City Summer is finally here. And I do mean summer. Not that pleasantly warm, bare your flesh to a refreshing breeze, frolic in the grass summer. I mean frizzy hair, sweaty underwear, no air to breathe summer. And of course, my office doesn�t have A/C yet�they�re installing it today. I�ve been drinking water like a camel. Wait, camels don�t need to drink a lot of water right? Isn�t that like saying �She eats like a bird� when in reality birds eat an unbelievable amount (when one factors in their food/body weight ratio)? But I digress�so yeah, it�s really fecking hot. And I�m sweating profusely. I blow dried my hair for the first time in eons to go to this show tonight and it is growing larger by the minute. I think it has plans to take over the world. Yes. This hair situation is out of control. I actually felt quite stunning for around 20 seconds this morning (in the comfort of my air conditioned apartment). Sad but true�beauty is fleeting my dears. I shouldn�t complain. This is a far cry from the rain n� doom of past weeks. After the torrential downpours last weekend I was doing online apartment searches in warmer climes. Yes, I am a die hard New Yorker but really, how much can one woman who lives for the sun take? We�ve taken to calling our beach house the �winter chalet�. So Monday when the skies opened up and the sun came pouring through, C. called me and insisted we both take a �mental health� day and hit the beach. I did my best to squeeze out a few pathetic tears at work and managed to finagle a day off. We spent Tuesday basking in the sun, eating BBQ (are men born knowing how to grill things? Is it part of their genetic makeup?), and being sickeningly lovey-dovey. Before you get jealous, please recognize that our usual during the week behavior consists of slogging to the gym, wrestling over the remote, lame salads with fat free dressing for dinner and me getting yelled at for leaving the salt shaker out or my dirty clothes on the back of a chair. Ooooh fun! Sometimes I miss being single�then again I think it�s mainly just that I miss being psychotically skinny. Arg. Tonight we (and my big hair) are going to see La Boheme. Tomorrow it�s a day on the beach and then upstate to a 30th B-day celebration. All of C.�s buddies are turning 30 this year. The big 3-0 is breathing down his neck and I�m almost positive he can feel it. Since I passed that mark a teeny-tiny bit ago it�s no biggie to me, but I think he feels like he should start acting like a grown up or something. I merely point to his friends who have already passed through the thirty year mark as they slam shots of Jack Daniels at the bar and tell the same College story for the nine-godzillionth time and assure him that he needn�t worry. Whew! What a relief. Still, maybe it�s heat stroke, but I sense a change in him. The more I pushed C. to start acting like an adult the more he pushed back. Then I simply gave up and lo and behold, the little shit starts making changes. Figures. Men always have to feel like they thought of it first. La di da. La di da. 1:18 p.m. - 2003-06-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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