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Thursday, September 30, 2004

My girlfriend got an iPod and all I got was her lousy MP3 player!

At the Apple Store she was shameless in her selection. After approaching the counter with a finger raised innocently, she said something like,"One iPod please. Biggest one in stock." Well, maybe not really.

We listened to the salesman show us different cases for a while, knowing full well that choosing the perfect case wasn't some kind of impulse buy. It was a whole other decision to be made on some other day entirely. Luckily he sensed this and led us to the checkout counter.

Outside the store, we walked around The Galleria a bit to let it sink in, waiting until we were situated at a quiet restaurant before tearing into it. I watched as Jenny gently removed the outer sleeve, lifted the lid, and peeked inside. It was there and then it was gone. I don't remember being allowed to handle it before it was put in its box again. Later that evening we would sit on the couch, each with an earbud, testing its clarity.

Why can't I have one! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!



UPDATE: The temporary tattoo is on its last leg. It held on long enough to have its photo taken apparently, then gave up its fight. I noticed in the shower yesterday morning that part of the right leg and lower chest is starting to flake off. Darn.

In other news, if I'm not mistaken, Amazon is now providing snipets of entire albums instead of just the first five songs. This opens up whole worlds of music!








Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Day four of the temporary tattoo is nearing an end and it's still holding up well. In fact, it looks even more realistic now that it has faded and long lost its shiny coat. Little old ladies wince and move out of my path when they see it.

I don't see why everyone doesn't appreciate the beauty of the temporary tattoo. I get to experience all the fun of having a real tattoo without the moment of panic that comes several months later when you look down in the shower and realize it's never coming off...ever...with any amount of scrubbing. What the fuck were you thinking?!

With me, a stiff-bristled brush and some soap and it's all over.

Check it out, it has boobs!




Monday, September 27, 2004

Question: How many wine coolers does it take to get drunk?

I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t stomach enough of them to get me passed a slight buzz.

Despite knowing what a stupid idea and waste of money it was, I decided midway through the movie Orange County, that we should make a wine cooler run.(?!)

I’m not sure what came over me. My only memories of wine coolers involved puking them; not drinking them. They were nothing more than a sugary disgusting mess back then, so what made me think they would be any different now?

I think while sitting there on the sofa, my thought-process went something like…”I could use a drink right now and the chances of us going out to buy a bottle of vodka are less than five percent. And the chances of spending at least fifteen or twenty bucks on a decent bottle of wine that doesn’t have hang over written all over it, are not much higher. I’m not supposed to drink beer and Jenny hates it anyway, so that would bring us to zero percent on the beer. OK, let’s see…wait - wine coolers are wine’s cold and refreshing cousin! And they only cost like five or six bucks. Score!

Amazingly, I managed to talk my way into a fun-filled trip down the street to Fiesta Mart.

“Plus, it’s 9:45 on a Saturday night and we get to see a bunch of retards crowding the beer and wine aisle!” My argument continued during the car ride.

As it turns out, wine coolers sell for the incredibly low price of just $3.99 for a carton of four so we chose one carton of Orange Sunrise and one carton of Strawberry Daiquiri.

Back at home, we uncapped a couple and resumed watching the movie. Two and half bottles later, I didn’t feel anything but an overwhelming urge to drink a jar of pickle juice to cancel out the taste. Likewise, after finishing her first one, Jenny exclaimed, “I don’t feel anything. It’s too sweet. You can have mine.” I think what she meant to say was, We just blew eight bucks on Kool-aid with some type of fermentation added. But I knew there had to be a point at which my buzz would surpass the sickly sweet circus going on in my mouth.

That never happened. And I’ve now concluded that Bartles and James must have formed some alliance with the parents of teenagers in an effort to cut down on drunk driving and sex.



This is pretty much what I do all day. Is it still considered air guitar if you use a tennis racket?


Saturday, September 25, 2004

Friday night the following happened:

1) I got a tattoo* of a generic superhero.

2) We saw R.J. from American Idol at a local café/coffee shop.
Does anyone remember him? Oh, you don’t since you never even watched an entire episode? Uh huh. Maybe you saw him in the Old Navy commercial.

I wasn'’t sure it was him until I caught his eyes darting around searching for an admirer. I was still pondering his identity when Jenny'’s laptop died and she flipped out and demanded we leave at once. Since I had barely touched my coffee I went to the counter for a to go cup. Right next to him. When I approached, he immediately turned his head to greet me and I knew it was R.J., although not unlike with the sun, I did not look directly at him. I just raised a hand and asked for my to go cup. Burn! Denied at Empire Café. On second thought, I should have smacked him on the butt or something. As a lesbian, I could have gotten away with this.

3) I shoved a bag of popcorn into the microwave which already contained a roll wrapped in aluminum foil. We tend to use the microwave as a sort of breadbox most of the time. Nothing happened really. My popcorn wouldn’t begin popping. Essentially, I didn'’t learn any valuable lesson about checking inside the microwave before turning it on.

4) We rented yet another HORRIBLE movie from the DVD vending machine inside of the Randall’s grocery store for no reason other than we feel the need to utilize everything, everywhere all the time. Apparently.

I don’t care how hot Angelina Jolie is, Taking Lives is the worst movie of all time. Or at least competing for the title along with Secret Window and Cold Creek Manor. All picked up from the DVD vending machine inside Randall’s along with dinner. All cost one dollar.




*fake

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Happy Birthday Caroline. We miss you.

Monday, September 20, 2004

Photo Diary/Atlanta, Georgia

(Try adjusting the slideshow to about 5 or 6.)


I began my first day by having coffee on the balcony in my boxers and taking phone calls. The first was from a friend who had to cancel our lunch plans at her favorite restaurant and the second was my mom asking what my first impressions of the city were. After spending some time talking with both of them, I eagerly stuffed my camera into my backpack and set out for a much anticipated walk along the street I was staying on. Having no destination, I strolled up one side and down the other taking in my surroundings. I had no idea where I was going but there was plenty to see along the way and the weather was nothing less than perfect. It had been almost two years since I had taken a trip and I was overwhelmed with delight.


This is the grocery store we stopped in at on the way from the airport. It’s in a parking garage and the only entrance is through the parking garage. I had trouble understanding and accepting this. It’s called Publix and I mistakenly referred to it as Pubic’s in the car on the way over which was sort of awkward in front of my older sister. This is the same older sister who just weeks earlier witnessed me spewing coffee all over the gift bags at Party City during a fit of laughter.


This is the charming little bistro where the bridal shower for my sister was held. And this is the vase of flowers which I later held between my legs on the ride home. See how much water is in it? Enough to really flood the floor board when my sister braked suddenly. Since I was pretty tipsy from drinking several glasses of wine and champagne, I found the incident pretty hilarious. Lucky for me, after inspecting her wedding planner and determining it was still dry, my sister laughed a little too. (Mostly, at my laughter.)


The most amazing part of my entire trip was seeing Chihuly in the Garden at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. I had only enough space on my memory card for twelve more pictures. You just can’t imagine how I felt as we began our walk through the grounds and I realized this. I was sick with disappointment. It was an enormous exercise in restraint. One I hope I never have to repeat.


With hurricane Ivan making landfall hours earlier, I decided to take one last walk before my flight was scheduled. The light shower was so peaceful.

It hadn’t really registered that Atlanta was going to be affected as well. The drive to the airport was hectic and long and once there, I found people sitting everywhere waiting. I wondered what was the longest any of them had been stranded. Every restaurant and bar was packed. I felt a little guilty for taking photos of their predicaments, but I was delayed too. In line at the coffee stand only every other person was getting their drink. They kept handing out orders in pairs and customers seemed happy to grab both of them. I watched a man walk away with my small coffee of the day. Inside of Popeye’s I had my coffee with dinner. I never realized how yummy their spicy chicken strips were.

It’s good to be home, although I’m not entirely content. I’m looking forward to my trip to Baltimore in a couple of weeks.

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Back From Vacation At Last



I'm finally home, but don't feel like writing really. I've had a headache all day which is a reminder of why I hate where I live and how it effects my allergies. Gotta be the mold and pollen. Definitely not me trashing my diet completely while in Atlanta by eating everything I'm not supposed to and drinking vodka tonics and also, after months and months of abstinence...beer. No, couldn't be any of that.

Ivan began to make its appearance an hour or so before my flight home was scheduled which delayed it by over three hours. I sat in the very last aisle of the plane with my eyes squinted shut like a fucking baby. But before take off I had a ball walking around what is one of the country's largest airports. I came ridiculously close to purchasing some new fangled gadget called a "Paper Palm" which sounded interesting until I realized it was just a fucking pad of paper. Now I wish I would have bought it anyway. The funny thing is that Jenny gave me her old Palm when I got home. It will come in handy for keeping up with not having a job.

A photo diary is on the way which I will spend tomorrow working on. Nothing too elaborate. Simple is good.


Tuesday, September 07, 2004

El Cheapo has left the building, gone fishin', and made like a tree and,... never mind.

I'll be in Atlanta for a little over a week so no updates for a while. Maybe for every time you forget and come here, you should leave a comment. Give a little instead of always taking. Write something in my place if you like.

Perhaps I will find my way to a computer somewhere along the way and write something. I have no plans of lugging my prehistoric laptop with me.

I will spend today checking and re-checking my list. I've been keeping a running list for weeks now and yesterday while driving decided on which books to pack. Fearing I would forget, I asked Jenny to fish it out of my bag and add To Kill A Mockingbird and 1984. She found it hilarious that I had included my "Take it to the Top" t-shirt. I suppose most people just begin opening drawers and tossing stuff into their suitcase. Why would I do that? I don't want to forget my favorite flip-flops, or my little visor, or to pack two different color belts. What about my barrettes? What would I pull my hair back with while washing my face? What about a photo of my sweetie? I don't want to forget what she looks like. And thanks to my one-sided tan I wouldn't want to leave behind my self-tanning lotion. Plus, sleeping at someone's else's house means wearing something a little presentable to bed in case you bump into them during the night. Or when you shuffle into the kitchen and start banging around in the cabinets for the coffee maker and/or coffee mugs. And lastly, there's a small chance I won't be able to figure out the new digital camera I'm bringing along in time for an important photo opportunity, so I'll have to pack my 35mm SLR. (I panic, alright?) Have you ever even looked through the lens of a 35mm SLR camera? Then you wouldn't understand.


Here is a picture of me bow-legged, playing a tennis racket with a spilled drink on my left pocket. Put on your favorite song and pretend I am playing.


I owe my girlfriend a thousand apologies for leaving the kitchen the way it is. I was going to at least unload and then reload the dishwasher before leaving, but when I opened it, there sat the little Electrasol tab. Undissolved. It survived after three washings. My question is, are the dishes clean? What's wrong with the dishwasher?

Also, I decided to leave my toothbrush in the holder next to hers. I remember coming home after dropping her at the airport and seeing mine all alone and it made me really sad. I don't want her to feel sad. I'll buy another one. I'm sure she will appreciate the tint the bristles have taken on as I continually and aggressively brush my tongue after drinking coffee. Yes, I know. Eww.


Friday, September 03, 2004

I think the purpose of a product such as Icy Hot or Ben Gay is to deliver the simultaneous sensation of scorching heat and arctic cold which creates such an extreme level of discomfort, you're not even sure why you needed it in the first place.

Oh yeah, my fucking legs are killing me! It's starting to wear off...

Everyone needs to go to Micro Center and get themselves a glitter trackball that glows red for five bucks. Because inside everyone is really a fourteen-year old girl.


I have a running list of vocabulary words that I keep, add to, lose, start again, add to, etc...

Some of the definitions I have a moderate grasp of, some I have no grasp of whatever. Some I just forget exist.

All deserve my attention.

I'm not ashamed of my list. Everyone should be so interested in improving their vocabulary.

Here's a sample: glean, epoch, adage, altruistic, summation, anoint, alliteration, flotsam, afflatus, welter, emblematic, cadence, semblance, repute, latent.

Anyone do the same type of thing? Just curious.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Why can't they just leave shit alone?

It seems like the more "convenient" things become, the greater the margin of error. If the package says, "Peel back from top" you can almost guarantee I will do it in the wrong place and with the wrong degree of strength and my lunch meat will go spilling onto the floor rendering the zip-loc feature useless. Then I will have to place it in one of those new disposable plastic storage thingies with the lid that doesn't fit snuggly of which I will then have to secure with a rubberband. Not unlike your grandma.

Just leave shit alone. I wouldn't leave my lunch meat in that slimy pouch anyway.

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