Alright already! I never thought my drivel was so interesting to so few. Here is what has been happening for the past few hours…days….oh, fine, weeks.
I have been working very little over the past few weeks, and I couldn’t be happier. The cat likes me now (since I’m not a stranger in the house anymore). I enjoy the soothing repetition of mopping downstairs. I still hate folding laundry though. I don’t think that one will change much.
I’ve been spending time with my grandma chatting. She’s such a pistol, I love that I have the time to spend with her. She tells me stories of the old days, most of which I already knew, some of which I didn’t. My grandfather had a mistress. My aunt went to church in a bathing suit. My dad embarrassed my grandmother at his cub scout induction. Stuff like that. I’m so lucky to have a grandmother who, at eighty-something, has her wits about her and can shoot the breeze with me and not make me feel like I’m talking to my eighty-something grandmother.
I hate my VW. I have to take it to the dealer to get the Anti-lock brakes looked at. Anyone want to venture a guess at how many hundreds of dollars this will set me back? Stupid German cars. Where’s my Toyota?
Yes, I found my wedding dress. I put the deposit on it, and Kat offered to keep the dress at her house. I wasn’t expecting at all to find the dress. I only went with Kat and Lisa to appease Lisa’s wedding-planning urges. I thought that finding the right dress required a misty-eyed mom, some violin music in the background, and months of searching. Apparently, The Wedding Story on TLC has it all wrong. Three stores, one afternoon, one friend to pick the dress off the rack, and one down-to-business Iranian woman to shove me into the dress. I’m going to look just like Audrey Hepburn. I know it. If you want a picture of the dress, email me and I’ll send you a picture. Sorry, Dimitri. You can’t see it.
Martha went to prison, which I think is a crock. She should serve probation and have a lot of community service, but prison? Feh. I think that justice would be served if she had to live for five months without her black SUV and forced to weave her own clothes out of her dogs’ fur. She says she can do it on her show, let’s see if she can put her money where her Chow is.
I have taken to playing Starcraft again. It’s a computer game where you get to be an alien race who tries to kill other alien races. I like to use the cheat codes, build hundreds of the weakest little alien fighter guys, and watch them swarm over the computer’s army and mop them off the face of the monitor. I call it “The Scourge of the Underdog.” It gets me to giggle in that maniacal “I’m causing the destruction of hundreds of people. And I don’t even have a little mustache and Priapic salute to go with it” kind of way.
In my time off, I’ve been reading stuff I wouldn’t normally read. I finished Under the Banner of Heaven, a weird but well-written expose of freak-ass Fundamentalist Mormon culture; Fast Food Nation, a sort of “Supersize Me” behind-the scenes look into how your Big Mac came to that little unwashed plastic tray; and The Life of Pi, a story that won a Booker Prize, but I think that you could have started at page 100 or so and not really missed anything. In fact, the back cover of the book tells the entire plotline, and the filler in the book isn’t all that deep or filling. It’s the literary equivalent of a hostess cupcake, really.
Last night I went to The Melting Pot for Athena’s birthday. In short: too much money and too much hassle for froofy-poofy food that you have to cook yourself. Give me Paymon’s Gyro Salad any time.
So lay off about the not blogging thing. I’ll see you guys in another month.
