Today has been one of those monumentally shitty days that you swear one day you’re going to be able to prevent but you know all along that you’re an idiot for thinking that. The kind of day where you’re pulling shit out of your “walk-in” closet to find your Pinkerton disc because you heard it in the Pizza Café the other day and it reminded you of high school and how much you loved that…
[for Wednesday, Dec. 5] A friend and I were talking today about Christmas and how we’re not feeling so festive. Yet. Yeah, I know getting all worked up about feeling THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT TM is cliché now. Whatever. I can remember when I used to get all giddy about Christmas. When carols and smells and lights and wrapping gifts made me feel all warm and fuzzy. It wasn’t that long ago. I miss that. I…
Not too long ago I petitioned Fergie, the Duchess of Skank, to reconsider her careless usage of pronouns in “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” the official radio song of Summer 2007. Sadly, she has not responded to my letter, so I am forced to move on to even more trivial matters: Good Luck Chuck. While I have tried my best to ignore Dane Cook for the past two years so as to not sully my irrational…
I’m hungry. I’m waiting on my lunch partner, who’s dealing with yet another car problem. I really think it’s time he considered public transportation, considering that this year alone, he dropped more than $700 on repairs, then got into major legal hot water concerning his license, then totaled the car, and then had to deal with a replacement car that is persnickety and sometimes decides to run out of gas and then not start back…
I woke up with an unbelievably sore neck. It’s like a hundred little gnomes took turns punching me while I slept. Or like I slept with my head turned around 180 degrees. Times like these it would be useful to have a personal masseuse* boyfriend around to work it out for me. I think my sister found my blog. Hey, sis! Welcome to my Emporium of Ceaseless Whining. It’s where my creativity — and my…
If you said “the electrician,” you’re so right it makes me want to vomit. In fact, an electrician won’t be coming until Monday. I take no comfort in knowing that I totally called it, especially since I’ll be having visitors tomorrow through the middle of next week. I mean, of course we wouldn’t sit around and watch TV the whole time, but it might have been nice to have the option. So, anyone know of…
If I happened to be in charge of an old apartment building and one of my tenants told me she’d tried to change a blown fuse — in a fusebox in the very small wood-lined closet — and the damn thing sparked and popped when she touched it, I would probably fall all over myself trying to get someone out to have a looksee at the problem. Clearly I’m not cut out to manage anything,…
Is it even possible to buy a bra that does not piss me off? I doubt it. First off, I’m pissed that I have agreed to give in to the cultural mandate to wear a bra. I don’t actually *need* a bra insomuch as anyone actually *needs* a bra. I’m not ashamed to admit that; I’m quite relieved that I don’t have to worry about all that extra baggage. I’m sure I have plenty of…
When I am Queen of the World, UPS will be required to use doorbells so that no one ever has any reason to drive down toward the airport amid the depressing industrial squalor on Airways/Brooks/etc. to pick up a package — as instructed on the handy sticky note stuck to the door right beside the doorbell, which was never once rung during the three attempts to get the package to its rightful owner, who sat…
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