Miscellaneous
- Geezers be stylin’: So I’ve been noticing how cool old men are nowadays. The black frame glasses, the sweater vests, those little golfer caps …
- What economy? So Denise and I tallied up our friends the other day, trying to think of some who are A.) employed, B.) employed full-time and C.) employed full-time in the field in which they received a college diploma. We came up with four people. Four!! And we know tons of people. What’s up with this? Nearly everyone we know is barely scraping by. And we’re talking smart people. Capable people. College-educated people with massive debt, and nobody’s finding work. That’s some fucked-up stuff right there.
- Indescribable joy: Stop the presses! There’s a BP out White Marsh way that actually carries Kamel Red Lights. I’m in heaven. I’m going to smoke myself stupid. I bought the last two packs they had.
- Sesame Street was just a dream: So as much as I want to move downtown, I just don’t think I have the balls for it. I’m too acclimated to two-way streets and ample parking. Let me tell you, I’m still reeling from this thought.
Update: A recount was commissioned, and it turns out I know seven people who are employed full-time in the field in which they studied: Iain, Brandi, Brandon, Vince, Jen, Jeffy and Dani.
This post brought to you by: Rockin’ The Suburbs from the album “Rockin’ The Suburbs” by Ben Folds.
Birthday berserkers!
Great weekend. I turned 24 Friday, battled a few issues, mostly in the vein of “Wow, I didn’t think I’d make it this long!”
And Iain came home from school with an armload of flowers for me, for which he wins major bonus points.
That evening we went out to dinner at Steak and Ale in Timonium. Right in our price range for a steak dinner and not crowded at all. Gorged ourselves on beef. We decided to continue the evening in Towson, drinking at the Charles Village Pub, where we made fun of all the baby college children and listened to some sort of band-type-thing. CVP, by the way, is very schizophrenic — totally different clientele on a Friday night than on, say, a Tuesday afternoon. But we survived, at least until our cigarette supply ran out.
My birthday present was to go shopping, which is a big deal considering our grand money-saving scheme. So we bummed around Hampden Saturday morning (I’m trying very hard not to do the mall thing), got some books at Salamander’s — surprisingly decent selection compared to other used bookstores I’ve seen. Made me sad that Pauper’s in BG went out of business. I picked up one by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, because I haven’t read any by him, and The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood because it’s good and I don’t own it. The big plan was to buy me some threads, but I didn’t find much I liked. Picked up a decent work shirt at Cloud 9, but that was it. I just can’t rock the pleated corduroy miniskirt thing.
So I totally cheated today and went to the mall anyway. Still didn’t find much, though. I think my ass is simply not constructed to be fit by off-the-rack clothes, making the Hunt For A Decent Pair of Freaking Pants nearly impossible. But I did score some sweaters at the Gap. Don’t hate me for it … they were on sale. That makes it OK, right?
This post brought to you by: I Don’t Want To Grow Up from the album “Beautiful Maladies” by Tom Waits
It’s my birthday again.
I’d just like to thank Mom and Dad for getting together 24 years and nine months ago.
Two-score!
There’s a string hanging from my bathrobe cuff
In the spirit of total disclosure, I must say that Iain and I watched High Fidelity today for the 15th time.
John Cusack cracks my shit up: “I will now sell 5 copies of ‘The Three EP’s’ by the Beta Band.” And my personal favorite: “WHAT FUCKING IAN GUY?!”
We had reheated pizza from Pizza Shan’s for dinner — Iain bought a few on Monday to stock up for the week, since we don’t usually feel like cooking on Wednesdays. How lame is that? And Pizza Shan’s is a very interesting pizzeria. It appears to be Asian owned and operated. Of course, I can only say this by virtue of the fact that a) “Shan” is not, say, very Italian-sounding; b) A secret-asian man took our order and c.) A secret-asian man delivered our pizza. If this makes me a presumptuous bastard, so be it. Besides, their pies are amazing.
And my girl Hurricane Denise [a moniker she earned far before Isabel hit the streets] called. I must say, it’s so good to reconnect with old college friends.
But if I censor myself, the terrorists win, right?
After 2.5 minutes of contemplation, I have decided that honesty is the best policy. To know me is to love me. “Fuck” is an acceptable noun/verb/adjective/adverb. And, let’s face it, my ego would starve if I didn’t feed it by writing down every damned thought I have.
Just so long as y’all don’t hold anything against me, we’re cool.
Cuss like a sailor, drink like a Mick …
Sorry, no quotidian details of late. Trying to reconcile what I write with who may be reading. Would hate to burst bubbles of those who know me in, say, a professional, daughterly, granddaughterly, or sisterly manner.
… a belated shoutout to my pagemonkeys [thanks, Dan], my parents [I swear I’m still a good girl], my siblings [who can’t access Supafine because the liberal use of the word “fuck” seems to have excited the Parental Controls] and all the people visiting my site via Tribune Company [Who are you guys, anyway?].
My only words of wisdom are [RADIO EDIT, — ed.].
Lord. I can’t believe I’m stealing rhymes from Kid Rock.
What a mess
Sometimes, I wonder why Dubya is still president.
Fortunately, his approval rating is crashing. Are people actually catching on? Do we actually have a chance at escaping his clutches?
Iain and I got all het up about Cowboy President today, and we wonder: What’s it going to take to get someone else in?
Greasy hair is totally in.
Overslept again today. Again! I think there are little Tardy Elves living in my apartment and fucking with my alarm clock, possibly even feeding me Tylenol P.M. when I’m not looking.
Oh No! My Bed Has Crashed!
Simple minds, simple pleasures: Iain and I have a new project! It’s called Thrift-store Sofa, a new comic series/two-player game.
This is hours and hours of entertainment, I’m telling you. At least, for us it is.
Enter to win! Thrift-store Sofa is sponsoring a sweepstakes! You could be the lucky grand-prize winner! You could win a luxury all-expenses-paid cruise to Tahiti! Of course, you’d have to win somebody else’s contest to get that prize, but our prizes are good, too.
But I wanna read stuff!
Boo. Can’t believe they canceled the Baltimore Book Festival. Stupid hurricane.
Bah. So we’re going out to dinner with Karen and John instead. But I can’t find my shoe, and we have to leave in a few minutes.
Guess I should go look for it.
recent flickr
-
my sewing tutorials
See my tutorials featured on SMS' Handmade Holidays!
