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08.18.2003 - 7:35 p.m.


JB left yesterday morning, winging his way across the ocean for another voyage to China. It's the first he's been in months because there was this thing, what was it called, SARK?

No, no, that's the 'recovering procrastinator/perfectionist who practices what she teaches, and lives in a Magic Cottage in San Francisco, California with her "Fur Husband" cat, Jupiter.'

Oooookay. No, it wasn't that.

Oh yeah, the SARS. JB's company prudently put all Asia trips on hold for quite a while, but now they're back up and running. So he's gone for a week, doing what he mournfully described as "a LOT of eating and drinking" because he's seeing several different suppliers whose feelings might get hurt if he doesn't go to restaurants and slug back vats of rice wine with them each night.

Boo fucking hoo, is what I say to that.

We had been to one of JB's work friends' house the night before, for drinks and dinner. This is a couple about 10 years older than us that have much in the way of The Bling, and I found myself spending the majority of the evening nodding sagely about the new class of Mercedes, house-wide Bose speaker systems, the relaxing benefits of a hot tub the size of an Olympic pool, and many other topics of which I know absolutely nothing about.

They are both really nice people, and we had a great time, but I started feeling like I'd walked onto a set of MTV Cribs. Wearing a burlap sack. With a couple of teeth missing.

Sunday morning a couple hours after the town car took JB to the airport, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the caller's number, so I let it ring. Which it did. Again, and again, and again. For whatever reason, someone was choosing to keep calling instead of leaving me a voicemail. I finally picked it up with a tentative hello.

"Who is THIS?" responded a surprised voice.
"....This is Sundry," I replied slowly. "Who are YOU?"
"It's Brian!" said JB's work friend from the night before.
"Why are you calling my cell phone?" I asked, confused into unintentional rudeness.
"Dude! I'm calling my phone! You have my phone!" he said.

I looked at the phone in my hand as though it had sprouted wings. Sure enough, the display was different. Other than that, they were identical - I could see how I had casually picked it up the night before, lying on their table next to my purse.

So we visited the upper echelon and I totally Winona'd their phone. It's possible we don't get invited back anytime soon.

In the afternoon I bought a dress for an upcoming wedding that may or may not be ugly. I honestly don't know. Some things I just shouldn't do solo, and one of them is dress shopping. It's got kind of a paisley design thing going on, and there's an asymmetrical hemline with some kind of ruffly deal - and oh god it SOUNDS ugly, doesn't it? I hope it's not. After the dubious dress purchase I hightailed it to Nine West, where I bought a slutty slutty pair of tall strappy heels. Because if I'm going to be in a fugly dress, I better have good shoes, dammit.

I also stopped by the Apple store while I was at Bellevue Square. I made my way to the software section and found some of our product boxes. For a while, I just stood there holding a box and admiring it, vaguely hoping some store employee would ask if they could help me, and I'd say oh no, that's okay, see I WORK for this company, and they would be all thinking I was some important hotshot.

But umm...yeah, that didn't happen. I did see a cute boy there, though. A cute Mac geek! Incroyable!


PS. I stopped by the mall near Workplace on my way home, and saw the Best Thing Ever. In the courtyard outside, there is a metal sculpture of a cow. Yeah, I don't know either. Anyway, the cow had caution tape surrounding it, and a small sign on its side. I had a pretty good idea what this was all about, given our weather lately, but when I read the sign I laughed out loud. "COW GETS TOO HOT", it said. Awesome!


PPS. I changed out some CDs in my car the other day, so I have new (well, old) music to listen to. On my way home today I was playing Surfa Rosa, and it rocked so thoroughly I had to play air guitar during "Broken Face". You know the part after he goes "My father speaks no english", and then the guitar comes in and goes chunga chunga chunga? TOTALLY AIR GUITAR'D IT.

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JournalCon 2003

10 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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