11/03/05: Here is an updated bio.
the hell writes this crap?
(you could also check out
profile for favorite music/bands/blah)
I enjoy reading bios on
other people's diaries, and therefore feel compelled to have
one of my own. Although this kind of thing, this trying to describe
myself, is really goddamn hard.
Why I have a diary in the
first place is no fascinating yarn, although I wish it were something
'And right after I won
that there Lotto I told myself, Sundry, you best to start keepin'
a diary to remember these days of wine and roses' (for some reason I envision that
delivered in a
southern accent Barry Gifford
character voice, so please indulge me).
Nah, I just stumbled across
a while back that was
so compelling and funny and cool and then I found more and more
and I start getting a hunchback from reading so many damn diaries
and I thought it would be fun to try writing one of my very own.
And you know the thing
about online journals, like so many endeavors, is that there
are always billions out there that just kick major ass all over
your own little place on the web - but I try not to dwell on
29 30 31, live in Seattle, and am married to my wonderful husband JB.
When I started
this diary, I was unemployed, and JB and I lived in an apartment
close to downtown. These days, I'm working again and we bought
in an eastside suburb.
I sail along in a fog of
domesticity, so you won't be hearing any tantalizing tales about
1) backpacking through Europe, 2) snorting coke off of Paris
Hilton's hooters, or 3) staying up past 10 pm.
Recently we added Dog
to our little family, which means I live with JB, Dog, Cat,
assorted Freshwater Fish. The fish are totally boring
dead, but I often write about the krazy antics of Dog and Cat.
You know the old adage,
'write what you know'? Here are my top 5 dream Jeopardy subjects:
- The word "Fuck"
- Sports bras that don't
- Your Dorky Co-Workers!
- Dog poop
So, thanks for coming by.
No, really, you have no idea. Thanks.
Photos, if you give
* It is totally
okay if you do not give a rip.