Tag.
It looks as though I've been tagged by
Emily to list seven things you don't know about me. My plan is to just write a normal post and shoot in arbitrary numbers every few sentences or so. Let's get started.
1) The closet situation remains unresolved. Late Saturday there were rumors of a key in the bathroom drawer, but unfortunately all hopes were dashed when it turned out to be a key to an Office Max computer desk I had in my apartment in 1996. Back Up Flops and Right Flop held a vigil yesterday.
It was poorly attended; Randy's shoes are surprisingly inanimate. And uncaring.
2)
Panajane has bravely offered new evidence of closet monsters:
Apparently all of her bras are missing. Taking into account that the
simplest solution is generally the
best solution, it's a solid deduction that sexy slimy monsters are on a global, intimates-eating rampage. I love that she took time out of her slithery day to get a manicure. Or... a pedicure. I'm not really up on my tentacle etiquette. It can't be comfortable, having your underwear tucked up around your neck like that, but hey. She's clearly in charge of her game. Look!
There's my missing leather lace-up boot I tell people is from a Halloween costume! I thought for sure my other rhinestone platform stiletto would be in there, too, but it probably just got kicked behind the headboard. You know. Last Halloween.
3) Randy and I are going to Monterey on Wednesday. That fundraising charity group he belongs to is having its
annual meeting and retreat. Randy's been in this group for six years now and on the eve of this, our sixth retreat, I would like to share a story I think neatly tallies my cumulative experience with this group thus far. So quick, curl up on the couch with a loved one and get ready to turn on your heart light.
Stop me if you've heard this. And good luck with that.
4) Once, three or four years ago (it was actually at
this party if memory serves), I was sitting conspicuously alone at a table valiantly trying not to look completely dejected when suddenly an attractive older woman came and sat down across from me. My eyes shone bright with the promise of newfound friendship and all my internal organs began to softly glow. Yes. Like E.T..
I sensed I had limited time to make an impression here so I immediately dove into the unmitigated praise pool. "You have really beautiful posture," I said. She did. I wasn't even lying. "Are you a dancer?" She looked like she could have been a dancer. This was all true.
She looked up from... whatever she'd previously been looking at to avoid me. Tight smile. "Yes," she said, "I was."
My organs got brighter. I set my purse on my lap to block the glare from my pancreas. "How tall are you?" I asked. She told me.
"Oh, you look much taller than that," I said. She pinched another smile at me.
"How tall are
you?" she deigned to ask. I told her.
"Now, see," she observed, pointing, "I would have thought you were shorter."
And just like that all my organs turned to coal. The mothership sailed blindly past, no longer able to pinpoint my location. I just sat there at the table, head bowed, waiting for Randy to come unbuckle my booster seat and help me get my coat on over my hump.
I'm really only going on this trip because the siren song of the 24-hour hospitality suite is too loud and beautiful for me to ignore. Plus this year I get to visit with
Amanda and her gorgeous kids, which in addition to being the total highlight of my week will also give me an answer to the "Are you coming to the womens' brunch on Saturday" question that's not my usual, "fuck to the no."
What number are we on?
5) A while back
Erika posted
some doodles she'd done of animals at her toddler's request. They were so adorable I asked her to send them to me so I could turn them into transfers and embroider them onto something. And she did! Erika's good like that.
Click on the picture to see the whole set. This was so much fun to work on because GOD, ARE THEY CUTE. Even Randy--
Randy, a man who recently referred to his impending first granddaughter as a quote, "cry monster"-- had to admit these animals are adorable. But he bit the head off a snake right after that to counteract his concession. I don't think that works, but whatever. Wasn't my snake.
6) In two weeks I'm going to jet up to Vegas to spend a whirlwind twenty-four hours with
Jen. In Vegas. With Jen. Jen! In Vegas! I
know! The first question she asked me after I booked the flight was whether I wanted to see any
naked ladies while I was there. And just like that? I felt my gall bladder and my left kidney spring to life, glowing faintly in the dim recesses of my... general torso area. There may be hope for me yet.
7) Last week I got home and discovered that Styro had scoured the earth for the most perfect present and had mailed me this:
A
toothbrush that plays two minutes of Jamiroquai's "Canned Heat" through the bristles, so the song transmits directly into your skull and reverberates off your bones! The way Canned Heat was meant to be heard! It's like a straight shot into your soul. I've brushed my teeth more in the last five days than I did in all of 2004. Yesterday I brushed my teeth while I was driving, cut out the disk changer
middle man. Yet another reason why my will stipulates my ashes are to be spread in and around Styro's house and/or car. See, Styro? You knew I loved you but you didn't know how much.
Was that seven? Because I'm like four hours late for work.
