Friday, May 31, 2002
They thought he was a goner, but the cat came back. . .Sometimes, when I look over at my cat (Arthur, King of the Kittons), I wonder if he's a real cat. Most of the time, he seems very much like a cat, startling at nothing, stepping on my jugular, licking his various nether regions in the middle of the living room floor. . .you know, cat things. But then, every once in a while, i'll look over at him and he just looks fake. He's sitting too perfectly, his head is moving too humanly, his eyes have expression. I suspect he is actually a muppet. I expect to look under the bed and find Frank Oz there.
Then again, maybe I just need to get more sleep.
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9:12 AM
Thursday, May 30, 2002
We wouldn't have to eat Kraft dinners. . .Chocolate chip bagels are back at the Bread Co.! Huzzah! I just hope they keep them well segregated from those nasty peanut butter banana crunch bagels. Ick.
Also at the Bread Co: A box on the counter with a label that proclaimed "Purity Wrap!" I think it is actually a saran-wrap-like substance, but I couldn't help hearing an ad campaign for "The lightweight, form-fitting chastity belt for a new millenium!"
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8:33 AM
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
It's the getting to the point that is the hardest part. . .I've been CVing for hours! I'm not done yet! The type is very, very small. The text is very, very dry. I am getting verrrrrrrrryyyyy sleeeeeeeppyyyyyyyyyyyyy. . .zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (Hmmm, her eyes are closed.)
AUGH! I'm awake, I'm awake! (Notice how ol' buddy Rachel's arm is all floppy and soggy-like.)
Won't let self go home 'til CVing is finished. (Ol' buddy Rachel's arm is usually floppy and soggy-like, only when she is asleep)
Must finish and get home before West Wing finale. (But I will check, just to make sure.)
(Poke poke poke poke poke) Now cut that out!
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4:15 PM
Friday, May 17, 2002
And your smi-ooh-eye-ile, is a thin disguise. . .Where, exactly, is the cheatin' part of town? And what about it makes it the cheatin' part of town? Why do some towns only get a cheatin' part, while others have a whole cheatin' side? How do you find the cheatin' part of town, if you don't know where it is?
And, most importantly, if you were headin' for some cheatin', why would you go to the cheatin' part of town, anyway? Wouldn't you go someplace else, not known for cheatin'?
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7:53 AM
Wednesday, May 15, 2002
He walks like me, he talks like me, he even has a twin like me. . .To console me for my recent rehearsement-unhappyness/bribe me into staying in the show, my friendly neighborhood giraffe (aka Bob) was to be bringing me gourmet cookies from his place-of-working cafeteria. He brought the first cookie last night. Then, this morning, I saw this on-line.
This sort of thing happens to us a lot. Our relationship is very scary.
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8:26 AM
Tuesday, May 14, 2002
But if those crumbs are all you want, don't come to my restaurant. . .We have a restaurant chain in the St. Louis Metro area called Tippin's (formerly Pippin's of Tulsa, Oklahoma). The important thing about Tippin's: They have pie. Lots of pie. Really good pie.
This past weekend in Minneapolis, I was introduced to a Baker's Square. A Baker's Square is, essentially, a Tippin's. They have pie.
I'm going to digress for a moment and grouse about the genericization of America via chain restaurants and retail stores. Driving through Minneapolis's suburbs was very much like driving through any other suburbs. I mean, we might as well have been in St. Paul for Pete's sake.
Anyway, back to the pie. Like many other family-oriented restaurants, they have things for the kiddies. Special Menu. Crayons. And a cup. A cup with a cartoon character on it. The cartoon character was a hugely smiling slice of pie with 2 big eyeballs perched on top of him where the whipped cream would normally go.
His name? Crusto.
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8:23 AM
Monday, May 13, 2002
Slaggin' her for breakin' up the Beatles. . .So I witnessed, firsthand, this morning, a phenomena that I only vaguely credit, most of the time. I saw a traffic-misfortune voyeur.
I'm heading into work, in my little, new, black, shiny, new Saturn Coupe (did I mention it was new?). I'm a little earlier than usual, so I'm expecting the traffic to be different. Worse, basically. And I'm toolon' up Hampton, and we've broken out of a heavy stretch. It's clear until the highway entrance now. Suddenly, the large SUV-thingie in front of me slows down to a, as they say, crawl.
Not because someone has suddenly cut in front of them, not because they need to be in a different lane, but because there are two cop cars with lights aflashin' pulled off onto a little side street. They slow down and turn to look. They keep going slowly, and looking, until they've finally gotten too far to see, and then gun the engine. I was appalled. And pretty pissed. I have no idea WHAT they saw, since I tend to turn away from traffic situations out of fear and general squeemishness, but I suspect it wasn't worth making me late to work.
Can't you just rent Faces of Death at Blockbuster, SUB driver? Leave your ghoulish side out of the car, please? Grrrrrrrrrr.
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9:18 AM
Wednesday, May 08, 2002
I don't belong here, 'cause I'm a creep. . .So, when the director introduces a _Charlie's Angels_ sketch into the show 2 weeks out from opening, and there are 6 women in the cast already, and all 5 of them are tapped for this new thing except you, even though you're the only petite blond, show up to rehearsals prepared and consistantly on time, and act better than at least 2 of the others, what do you conclude? That the director either hates you or doesn't give a flying @#$% about you. Either way, it makes rehearsal every night for 3 hours a really not-nice place to be. Just needed to vent. Thanks.
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10:06 AM
Tuesday, May 07, 2002
So let's just keep on dancin'. . .Ok, finally broke down and bought the No Doubt cd, a shamefully mainstream purchase, which I am now guiltily enjoying in my cube. Not guiltily because it is forbidden at work or anything like that. . .it's just that I keep catching myself dancing in my seat, with no idea of how long I've been doing it, wondering whether anyone saw me. They think I'm weird enough as is. . .
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2:24 PM
You take the time to give me a clueless stare. . .The debate at hand: Are stupid people as stupid as they seem? Personally, I tend to think not. This is due to a sort of projected intellectual snobbery; I'm smart, so I assume everyone else must be as well. I interpret apparent stupidity as laziness or faking. I realize this is a flawed position, but, nevertheless, it's how I feel and thus it effects my behavior and judgements.
Last night at rehearsement: We're going over our dance - on a tangent: What do you call a dance without choereographer or dance captain, being rehearsed by people who aren't dancers? A mess. - and it's not going well, big surprise (besides our other major handicaps, we're in a brand-new space). So, the stage manager has decided we need to just mark through it, slowly, which means without the music.
Enter the stupidity. Apparently the "without the music" concept confused one of the dancers. She simply refused to process it, asking questions like "Oh, they're going to slow down the cd?" and "Now, what are we doing?" over and overandoverandover. Until, lo and behold, the SM decided to just do it with the music.
The theory? Stupid girl doesn't know the counts, only where certain moves happen in the lyrics. Thus, without the music, she's lost. She played dumb to get the music back. . .and it worked. What a neat survival tactic. I've used the same trick to get out of various office tasks - "Fed-Ex? No, I don't know about those. The labels are awfully complicated." - but I always feel a bit unclean afterward.
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11:38 AM
Friday, May 03, 2002
Right, so I've decided it would be unfair to turn this blog of randomness into a wedding gripeexpofestarama. So, I've created a whole new blog for that purpose. And they say no one accomplishes anything on Fridays. . .Ta da!
1:24 PM
'Cause it's bugger all down here on Earth. . .Apparently I must actually post to check the new comment-feature, which is good, because twill force me to write, and bad, because it is a sloooooooow Friday here in Editoria and there's not much to talk about. Except my Opportune Lunch.
I walked in at 11:30 today (morning appointment. time is flexible here, but not _that_ flexible), without food or money for lunch to find that one of our reviewers had catered a few Tubs O' Italian into the office. Yummm, toasted ravioli. . . . .
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11:53 AM
trying to add comments back to the blog. we'll see how this goes. . .
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11:23 AM
Thursday, May 02, 2002
dum, DUM dum-dum. . .Bob has pointed out to me a startling first usage of his name on Ye Olde Bloggy Blog. I guess, since we're getting married in the fall, it's alright to have him named now.
I think that was my subtle way of announcing the wedding.
That done, you, poor readers, will probably be subjected to some closer-to-daily belly-aching about the weirdness of Planet Nuptuals.
In the meantime, I've got my tickets to SpiderMan on Friday. Do you?
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2:59 PM
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