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March 30, 2004
Five things that happened today
1) The spam comment wars on old entries of my blog are getting heated. In response to a particularly damning attack by the Cialis faction, Viagra responded with a world-weary "Look, medical science has shown that, when used correctly, Viagra is very effective." Propecia felt moved to jump in with the out-of-context but inspiring, "Get your hair back and get laid." Soma just wants to thoroughly relax tired, stressed muscles. The real question is, what is the appeal of a brief entry from Thanksgiving 2002 on a not-that-widely-read blog? I do not know.
2) Someone called work this morning, apparently with the sole goal of playing Bang a Gong (Get it On) over the phone to us. Thanks man! (And here's a bonus link about Marc Bolan's tragic life.)
3) The stupid new checks that were supposed to arrive from the stupid bank so that I can start paying off some of my dad's stupid bills (and really, you just have no idea how stupid some of them are) failed to be in the mail again today. Commence to seethe!
4) Dad (finally, after two freaking months) got his eyes checked this afternoon, after much comic relief provided by a van driver who is going to get a complaint filed about his ass first thing tomorrow. Everything seems to be working, so that's good, although I sincerely hope that needing newer, better-fitting glasses proves to be the explanation for reading problems he's been having, and not something more ominous.
5) I began to consider whether I might want to get a new haircut, possibly with a "style," and maybe even "layers." That thudding sound you hear is every hairdresser in a twenty-mile radius fleeing for his or her sanity.
Posted by hilatron at 07:02 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
March 29, 2004
You have no idea how long I sat here trying to come up with a title for this one.
I have discovered that I am prone to bouts of despair in the grocery store. I almost added an "irrational" to that sentence, but I'm not sure it applies. Going grocery shopping is like any unpleasant chore, but elevated to epic proportions: It's tiring, especially when you have to include the getting there and the getting back on foot. It's lit by fluorescent lights, the scourge of modern existence. It always, universally in my experience, involves listening to the most offensive lite-music station that can be found in the region one inhabits. It requires thinking about spending money, saving money, and having very little money even for life's essentials.* Really, you only need to add an element of dirt or smelliness to make the experience completely degrading (and at the Key Food in our old haunting grounds of Queens, that was often supplied as well).
Yesterday I set myself up for extreme distress by going to the grocery store a) on a sad gray day; b) on a Sunday; c) during a period where I am struggling to find something to bring for lunches that I am not entirely sick of, no please no more hummus no no no. I knew I was doomed when I saw that every single shopping cart was taken from the front of the store. The aisles were filled with people who, like me, were clearly unable to deal. The wares were so fakey "Wowza!"-packaged and unappealing and overpriced as to send even the cheeriest person into the depths of a philosophical crisis. I was nearly rendered incompetent to handle my own affairs by this one woman with weirdly colored, overprocessed but still strangely unkempt, gigantic helmet hair who kept parking her cart smack across the end of aisles, and then being genuinely surprised and apologetic when I. could. not. get. by. AGAIN. By the end of the bread aisle, where there are these out-of-place mirrors angled over the top shelf,** I looked like someone had stolen my favorite toy and felt like three scoops of death on a one-scoop stick.
The nice thing about grocery store trauma is that, unlike so many other parts of life, you can actually run away from it. At least until next week. The sweet breath of freedom cooled my brow in the checkout aisle, and I almost kissed the bagger, who must spend all her free time playing Tetris, so neatly and soundly did she fit all the items into my old-lady cart, so gently did she cradle the bread.
Point? Not today. That's it. Nothing more to see here.
*Free country-western song title for you composers out there: "Vine-Ripened Tomatoes or Next Month's Rent?" Do with it what you will, but send me a copy.
**I guess so that you can see the tops of the loaves(?), but also handy for craning one's neck to confirm that you do, indeed, look like crap from a truly bizarre angle, under unflattering lighting, while frowning.
Posted by hilatron at 09:10 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 25, 2004
Gobble Gobble Hey
Check out who I found hanging out by the entrance to our building tonight:
Posted by hilatron at 08:14 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
Keep it down, you.
Let the world be warned that I am EXTRAORDINARILY CRABBY today. Not the grim, low-level, tired "you'd best not test my limits right now buster" thing that has beetled my brow since Dad was admitted to the hospital, but a good old-fashioned energetic irrational desire to smash everything that transgresses my current, very limited, laws of acceptable behavior.
Of particular concern at the moment are noises. My ears are, apparently, on their very last nerve, which is currently being assaulted by:
-A Typhoid Mary in the meeting area directly behind me, who chose to drag her corpselike self to a conference despite a repetitive hacking cough with a singularly irritating "Guh-huh. Guh-HUH. Guh-hack. Hack hack HACK" leadin.
-Compulsive pen-clicking (excluding, of course, my own).
-The melodramatic, smacky chewing of my nearest neighbor. Of particular interest is the self-righteous rage I have managed to develop on behalf of other people in other places, who receive phone calls from said neighbor while the irritating chewing is taking place.
-My boss's voice, in conjunction with her fondness for the office P.A. system.
-Telephone callers who do not exhibit exquisite manners.
On an unrelated note, last night I had an extremely vivid and wildly inaccurate dream about setting wholesale prices for a new product that I am, in real life, working on making. I spent the entire day until about five minutes ago grouchily convinced that it would be completely not worth it to make the product after all, until I realized that in my dream I had been paying myself $75 per hour for sewing and gluing. So apparently my self-esteem is healthy, even if my social graces are lacking.
Posted by hilatron at 12:49 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
March 22, 2004
Auspicious Beginning
I don't know what kind of sign it is, but it definitely is one, when you're on your way to work Monday morning and suddenly realize that your (offwhite, lacy) slip has slid down to hang four inches below the bottom of your (black, sleek) skirt without your knowing it. The freaky part was that I could not even feel it after I realized what was happening. After a discreet (uh-huh I'll bet) hiking-up session, I spent the rest of the walk limping along, one hand in my coat pocket, pressed against my hipbone to keep the errant undergarment in place. Maybe Napoleon had an indifferent tailor, too.
Now, outer bound to inner with some binder clips from the supply cabinet, I question all the things I normally take for granted. We all know that slips are the loose cannons of the clothing world, but this one was so sneaky. What else is happening that I don't know about, what other sartorial plots are hatching as we speak?
Posted by hilatron at 04:00 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
March 18, 2004
Toe in the Water
Why don't you just go ahead and buy a wristband already?
The site is pretty plain and lo-fi at the moment, but that's at least consistent with the rest of my life. More goods (and hopefully such niceties as a shopping cart) appearing soon!
Posted by hilatron at 10:22 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
March 17, 2004
Survey
Are you primarily:
A) Scoopers?
B) Spreaders?
C) Stabbers?
We are big-time spreaders. There are never any clean knives. It's like you do the dishes, blink your eyes, and there are all the knives dirty in the sink. The forks run a distant second. The spoons don't stand a chance, neglected in the drawer. There are probably spoons in there that never get out, poor things.
Posted by hilatron at 10:52 PM | Comments (14) | TrackBack
March 16, 2004
A Bad Sign
Today I found myself making a to-do list entitled THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT. The last item on the list reads, "The fact that I have made a to-do list entitled THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT."
Next I will get cracking on my five-year plan for THINGS I INTEND TO FAIL AT (OR ABANDON HALFWAY THOUGH).
Posted by hilatron at 04:23 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
March 15, 2004
Listen to this, my anxious friend.
You know what you and me should do? We should build a website, The Website for Bored Hypochondriacs. The website would consist of a place where you could enter all your symptoms, which would then be matched against a vast database in order to generate a list of diseases that match your particular set of complaints. Like a recipe finder for neuroses. Because let me tell you, and I should know, it's just plain inefficient to use WebMD or Google for this purpose.
Posted by hilatron at 11:24 AM | Comments (6)
March 11, 2004
Not as bad as it looks.
Yes, things look weird. Yes, I have not posted in forever. That is because my site (and Josh's, and several others) have been COMPLETELY FUCKED for the last week and a half. Gah! This minimalism we've got going on here is temporary, but I need some help getting everything back the way it was. In the meantime, please enjoy the previous entry, which I really wanted everyone to read because of all the people who deserve props.
I've been passing the low-tech time by learning to crochet. Some of the results are on display and for sale here, more to come. I'll post some sort of something soon, but right now the lack of navigation and links is freaking me out. Kisses!
Posted by hilatron at 06:43 PM | Comments (6)
March 01, 2004
If it were an Oscar speech, they'd have to start playing the music
So, what did I do to deserve such nice people? So many elements ensured that my for-real birthday on Sunday was a marathon of fun that I don't know where to start: Josh schemed to get pretty nearly every person I know in Boston to attend brunch at Fire & Ice (yes they do have brunch, featuring omelettes and pancakes big enough to use as comforters should you want to curl up for a nap after you gorge yourself). Notable online attendees were Girl-E, Girl-C and the inimitable Snowy, who gets a place in my personal Hall of Fame for flying all the way here for the party mentioned later. Many other mysterious and beloved non-website-having types were also present, much to my delight.
After eating two weeks' worth of food, we toddled off to the Aquarium, which Josh and I have been talking about doing since we moved here. I used to love the Aquarium as a kid and it's no different now: hello to the fishies! Hello to the octopus! Hello to the sea turtle and the moray eel! Well, you know about aquariums, and I am too tired to wax poetic about it right now. But aren't they great? Yes?
I'm ashamed to admit that there was a post-aquarium moment of doubt, where I feared that I couldn't possibly find the energy to go to Nikita's Karaoke Oscar Party. Oh how glad am I that I slapped on a silly dress, grabbed Josh, and dragged myself over there. As if it were not obvious at first glance that Nikita is a class act, consider the evidence: 1) invites total strangers over for Oscar fun. 2) Has not one, but two "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" posters in her kitchen. 3) Brings one of the total strangers a cake (with her name on it [spelled correctly])!!! I hope that puts that question to rest.
And this is not even counting all the love I have received from afar. The mailbox has been overflowing all week with cards, exciting packages, and all manner of special things. The Above and Beyond Award surely has to go to The Captain, which is no surprise, as she's great, but still. I mean, flowers! I never get flowers!
So. This whole thing has made me feel like the seventh birthday really is the lucky one - I mean here we have this last month, which has frankly been pretty crappy, and I was feeling rather cursed about the birthday. Partly because I could not plan the kind of shenanigans I ordinarily would for my control freak self, and partly because the last real birthday was similarly derailed by an unrelated life crisis, and so what is this, huh? Can't a girl get a break once every four years? And sure that's petty, but dammit I get excited about the real birthday. But then pretty much everybody that I know, and some that I don't, just charged in and made a better day than I could have custom-ordered, if such a thing were possible. I nominate each and every one of you as my fairy godmother. I need to bake you cupcakes or knit you sweaters or something, but for now I will have to settle for a dramatic and Oscar-worthy MWAH!
Posted by hilatron at 10:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack