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Friday, Apr. 18, 2003 - 2:14 p.m. wearing: TURTLENECK because it's FREEZING, black slacks amply festooned with cat hair slicing up eyeballs! whoa-ho-ho-ho! Back to myself again, and in honor of same I have deleted the horrible overwrought "self-indulgent ass"-engendered entries because I am beyond caring. I'll merely reiterate the one lesson I feel I have learned from this emotional turmoil: if it's good enough for Lizzie Wurtzel, it's good enough for me. I had to go interview nurses at the hospital this morning, which I always enjoy because it gets me out of the office and I can pretend I'm a homicide detective or something. On the way back up here to Summerlin on the Las Vegas "Beltway" (such as it is), a dreaded and infrequent thing happened: it started raining. So it took me almost an hour to get back, because people trying to drive in the drizzle here is like people trying to drive in snow flurries in Huntsville, i.e. like watching--okay, one of my mom's favorite anecdotes is about how one time in the '60s, when she was the office manager for a commercial realtor that had a storefront location overlooking what was at the time the busiest intersection in Huntsville, it was the middle of an ordinary day when suddenly a truck driving up to that intersection jackknifed and all the cargo fell off and busted open and you guessed it, the intersection of Memorial Parkway and University Drive was inundated with an entire truckload of suddenly-liberated live chickens. And, this being Huntsville in the early '60s, people came swarming out of their places of business to scoop up the chickens so they could take them home and eat them, because why not? it's not like they'd never eaten for lunch parts of a chicken that was blithely scratching about in the barnyard that morning. Still, I've always had my own mental image of what that melee must have looked like, the principal feature of which is a blinding cloud of loose white feathers. I guess that's not what it's like when Las Vegas people drive in the rain at all. But it was still tedious and frustrating and intermittently life-threatening, and so to compensate I listened to my two favorite songs on the Pixies' Doolittle over and over again, those being "Debaser" and "Here Comes Your Man," and marvelling at how you'd never guess they were recorded while I was still in high school (I think) and not, like, earlier this year. There. That was my morning. Back to work now. --oh, but p.s.--as a result of this whole Singapore thing I have pressured my mom into taking a hitherto completely unprecedented step on her part... today she went to the bank and requested an ATM card. Twenty-first century! whoa-ho-ho-ho! � 5.2.03--all packed up and nowhere to go yet - Friday, May. 02, 2003 *** Diaryland *** Moi *** Maintenant *** Temps Perdu |