Wednesday, June 28, 2006



A = Driving two hours across town to a moderately important, though brain killingly dull, work function, being late and being turned away due to one's frazzled inability to manage simple Mapquest directions and "thinking" one has the cognitive capacity to find "a faster way,"

B = Bloating up like a bullfrog doing whippets, and;

C = Being moved to tears by "needing a man in my life who loves puppies and makes cakes like that fine Brawny paper towel guy" or the minor annoyances such as the lack of ketchup...

A + B + C = P


Sunday, June 25, 2006

Saturday Night Shopping Spree

Hey, listen. I went all over the town, nay, THREE towns, looking for that wrinkle-concealing, chunky gold necklace that my mother wanted for her birthday.

At Macy's, they only had a buncha tacky chunky bead strings and some wisp-thin silver chains, plus a store-brand marcasite encrusted $20.00 watch that I carried around for awhile, possibly arousing the suspicion of the security guards, before unceremoniously replacing it on the tiered table created specifically for Low-End Emergency Gift Jewelry at the finer department stores.

So I went down to Nordstrom's and everything there was widely spaced and affluent enough that I felt white-trashy in just my black low cut shirt (revealing the pinkish, dwindling remains of a between-boob-blemish) and nondescript black shorts, but still I found nothing I deemed to her liking. Can I help it if on the way out of there I dropped in to Payless and found some 1 1/2 inch brown leather heels that fit and that were comfortable and coordinated with my planned outfit for tomorrow AND were on sale? I pretty much had to get those, didn't I?

It occurred to me between malls that perhaps I lacked clarity on just what it was I was seeking, since the major department stores I had visited thus far had only Chunky, Clunky, Sixties Beads, Delicate Rhinestone Affairs Such That Are Worn To Junior High Dances and Tacky Clearance Whodathunkit Whimsy Necklaces to offer. On the way to the car, I discovered an unexpected Sephora which drew me in and forced me to purchase a Stila lip stain just like the one I'd read about and coveted in Domino magazine earlier that very day.

I phoned my sister, who explained that something like a $2000 "omega chain," except not that, was the thing. I asked her what length the necklace should be. She got one of my mom's current, apparently unacceptable necklaces and measured it, and said, "Five inches." I said, "A necklace, not a bracelet, right?" She then asked me if I thought she was on crack. I didn't think that, but was not apparently making myself understood, so I said I would continue looking and make do.

The journey continued on, to a different mall, where, having weighed and measured at least 12 to 15 fragrances at the Sephora and found them wanting, proximity to a L'Occitane shop dictated that I stop there and grab some The Vert (green tea) perfume, due to its long absence from my toilette. Ah, oui! (plus they had some solid green tea perfume too, which I had fervently wished to be created for months, and there it was! So I bought it.)

From here, my thoughtstream went something like this:

"What was my original shopping errand? Oh yeah, the necklace.

Fuck it, I'm going to Target. They always have SOMEthing that will work. Maybe this whole necklace mission was a bad idea from the start.

Does it have to be gold? Here's a chunky clunky silver one. That will have to do."

So I ended up getting my mom a silver approximation of a rumored gold necklace that she wanted for her birthday (well, that and a box of Whitman's, cause she loves those), and myself dozens of dollars' worth of pure-dee nifty items that perfectly matched my desires.

Maybe I need to have some kids or something.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


Main Entry: ad·dic·tion -- noun
1 : the quality or state of being addicted

2 : compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol, or raising digital fish) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful (such as staying up until 3 a.m. tending digitized virtua-osteichthyes until your eyes feel like the gravel at the bottom of the tank).

It all started with a tipoff from
here. I played this damn fishycrack for about 7 days for free, and then I forked the $20 over for the full version and now I'm waist deep in this muthafucka with a 2 to 3 hour a day habit. I have found 5 of the magic fish. 6 and 7 await, and I SHALL FIND THEM. O YES.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

That's It...

I'm starting a band.

There have to be some other people over 30 who want to slant towards the dream as death edges ever closer.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Not to steal from a worthy Fox; however...

if drivin' down the road with your left arm hangin' out into the blisterin' Texas sun, eatin' cherries and spittin' the pits out the window just to watch 'em fly, singing along to Dwight Yoakam and swipin' the final "g" off ever danged word makes you a hick... then I'm guilty.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

The Things I See In This Town III

Yep, today I went to buy dog food and make some copies at the local shopping center, and I saw this. I was gonna take a picture with my camera phone, but I thought better of it. I'd give better odds than not that this Bubba had a gun rack in his back window.

I wonder if was a "You must be as tall as the catalytic converter to drive this truck" sticker anywhere on this thing when he bought it...

(Yes, I made that picture. It was fun.)

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