Oops, I forgot to upload this the other day. So I'm adding more.
Hot damn: today at work, we are having a hiatus party, which translates to Veuve Cliquot (for others) and hors d'oeurves (for me). Run on, run on. I am wearing my new red skirt, feeling a little Hester Prynne because it's above the knee. Saucy!
I can't stop thinking about Grand Haven.
I don't want people to be hurt by my request. I just don't think they understand how this bit of web is important to me. Or at least it was. I've been neglecting it lately because I cannot express what I want and need to say. Yes, my computer is broken, but it remains that way because if it's fixed, then I don't have an excuse anymore. The truth is that I have a new design, new organization, new thoughts to convey, but I can't do it under a microscope. I'm a very private person with people I know, and I have secrets that even my closest company wouldn't think of. Yet it's easy, even necessary, for me to share them with strangers.
As soon as my benefits kick in, I am going to have a whirlwind tour of healthcare. My first stop will be to a dermatologist, who will clear up my blotchy face. Then I will visit the OB/GYN, because the last doctor said that I am producing too many hormones (my response: "Well, yes. I'm a whole lotta woman!"). THEN I am going to stop the Leno-ing of my face by getting those invisible braces. Lisping and straight teeth are only a few paychecks away.
Yesterday wasn't a walk in the park, but it wasn't a walk in a stinky alley, either. And today has felt very fluid, with time flowing in such a way that five minutes and an hour seem the same. Occasionally I feel like I'm floating through the week. Whether this is a result of odd sleeping patterns or getting mellow in my old age, I cannot decide.
Yesterday I finished a memoir about heroin called How to Stop Time. I'm not sure what to think. Thankfully, it's not another alarmist Nancy Reagan-ish diatribe—but at the same time, it seems like the writer is detached from her experience... she nonchalantly mentions that she started snorting every day, she makes great points about capitalism but glides over her own family's affluence, and if only she'd expanded on sections about police treatment of white versus black heroin users. Still, it's probably difficult to write about, and overall it's a pretty interesting read.
This is so seventh grade, but I am getting all worked up about my big adventure with sushi-pants in two weeks. We're going to paint the town red, or at least walk around in sweaters and mittens. It's funny how it's taken three years for us to finally meet, and funnier still how I feel like it's a reunion with an old friend.
My horoscope said that today is going to be "no walk in the park." But Mercury is going direct, which means that its retrograde status is gone for now (yay!). I don't know why, but today I feel like something good is about to happen. Fingers are crossed. Actually, my legs are -- which is kinda weird because I'm usually one to curl up in a ball or stretch my legs out. Unfocused and yours, I remain.
but it's so much easier to breathe in when it's warm. I want to stop holding my breath.
chumpknees: we can all learn something from kenny loggins
acornface: he and his wife were talking about PASSION
chumpknees: you loved it
acornface: Their sexual relationship has changed from that hot "I gotta have you" when they first got together, to "Who are you? What's this about now? Who are we now?"
chumpknees: hahahaha. i think we all have to reevaluate how our sexual relationship with kenny loggins has changed
chumpknees: like me and you, remember we used to spoon all night listening to footloose? but not no more!
I should add that this is all fictional. You knew that, right? No
spoons, no silverware in this bed!