04.11.2004 - 5:31 p.m.
It's been a shining, sunny,
shorts-and-tank-top weekend, just made for enjoying Seattle;
sailing across Lake Washington maybe, kayaking past the houseboats
on Lake Union, hiking to the top of Mt. Si and watching the paragliders,
or even just strolling through the Market to watch the fish guys.
I have done none of these things.
I have been firmly ensconced in suburbia, traveling only as far
as the neighborhood theater to see a matinee of Hellboy.
It's a good thing I'm making
exemplary use of all the local spoils! I mean, why else would
I be living in a habillion-dollar housing market, if only to
NEVER LEAVE MY HOUSE.
I am a despicable hermit who
will die alone in a house filled with cats. Evil, annoying, fat
cats that spill their catfood everywhere and haul birds
in the house.
Also, it's hot in her(r)e.
I know, it's April, it's the Northwest, and maybe I'm just a
okay FINE I am a GIANT wuss are you HAPPY now?
God. Anyway, I'm too HOT and there's no air conditioning and
I can't wear a BRA because of HOOTER MOISTURE.
In fact, I have spent much
of my time this weekend in a tank top and a sarong. With
Bedhead Head Rush buildup in my hair. I am Jack's complete lack
of social grace.
(And speaking of Fight Club
[what do you mean, we weren't? you go where I go, and don't ask
questions, or else it gets the hose again (how do you do a parenthetical
inside a parenthetical inside a parenthetical? I just wanted
to point out my INSPIRED swerve into Silence of the Lambs. Thank
you. I'll be here all night. And day. Because I never leave my
house, remember?)], can I just say, when recalling the following
quotes: The salt balance has to be just right, so the best
fat for making soap comes from humans, and Tyler sold
his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. Lord knows what they
charged. It was beautiful, I can't help but think of The Soap
that has turned into this crazy journal meme. Beware, Soap fans!
You may be lathering your face with Lipo Leftovers! Although,
really, I'd eat human flesh if I thought it would make
my skin look perfect. What? It tastes of chicken, right? It can't
be that bad, especially if you can pick your meal. I'd start
with Johnny Depp. Dressed as a pirate. Mmm, rump roast. WHAT?)
I did venture from my troll-cave
earlier with the best intentions of picking up an assortment
of plants from Home Depot, but when I got there and wandered
the aisles I got all OCD Girl (now there's a superhero!
"OCD Girl, save us!" "Yes! As soon as I wash my
hands! 549 times!"*) and couldn't decide on anything because
there were SO MANY plants, and did I want purple daisies or lemon
thyme or maybe a new hydrangea, or? I left empty-handed with
a grandiose plan of drawing out my yard, and sketching the pattern
of sun throughout the day, and color coordinating everything,
and being Fully Prepared to make strategic plant purchasing decisions.
* I mean no offense to the
afflicted. Now go count alllll the shiny things in your house.**
** I am going to hell.
I got home and whipped out
a sketchpad, thought about the yard, but ultimately produced
Note: only PART of that stunningly
rendered piece of art is based on actual events in our home.
The other part, now that I look at it, seems to be a depiction
of Roy Horn. Ha! ***
*** SO going to hell.
Oh, and all I've eaten all
weekend are Triscuits. Deli Rye Triscuits. For breakfast. For
dinner. I probably have scurvy. Just a scurvy-ridden, sarong-wearing,
sweaty-breasted hellbound recluse, with too much spray on shiner
in my hair. And a Soap skeptic, to boot.
And? When I saw the trailer
Plane yesterday, I laughed and laughed and LAUGHED. At SOUL
PLANE. AKA, The Dumbest Looking Movie on Earth.
Please. Just take me out back and shoot me. My warranty has obviously
last ::: next
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