Tuesday, August 28, 2007

It's been a while, sure

But I've been ever so busy slaving over hot... Diane von Furstenberg wrap dresses all day to bother with this. It's important work, I tell you.

I've got a week off, however- so I've got some time, despite the fact that the family is in town. The whole lot of them- the Queen mum, my dad, my sister and my Uncle who's not really my uncle but my dad's best friend (we're italian). They actually drove down. Which is amazing, considering my mother's chronic fear of cornfields and the creepy little aryan children dwelling therein. She doesn't do well in rural areas. It's true. Back in Rochester, we'd never go to the outlet malls too late, because they were out in Penn-Yan, which is chock full of Amish people. She'd hear the "clopity clop" of their buggies in the dark and start panicking. Because, of course, they were probably transporting meth.

There have been some adventures as of late, although I'm having some trouble recalling them at this hour. Except for the one about the creepy dude who claimed to be the bass player for The Lemonheads. Which he was not. If he were in fact the bassist for the The Lemonheads, I'm quite sure he would know who The Blake Babies were, and he did not. Don't mess with a girl who had a "Sassy" subscription in the early 90's.

Question- you know how they always have those ads like "Someone has a crush on you! Find out who now!" Do you think there are people who think it's real? I mean, that's kind of sad and almost cruel. I just always picture this like, big fat balding recluse dude wearing a shirt with a dragon on it pulled up over his belly seeing that ad and thinking some hot chick wants to do him, and then having his heart broken because really someone just wants him to buy ringtones or whatever. That would be sad if it were true, which it could be. I mean, people are pretty willing to believe things that are clearly total crap if it makes them feel good about themselves- otherwise how would you even begin explain Scientology?

Oh, and I found out the other day that dudes get calf implants. No, really. It's true! That totally kills me- I mean, I'm kind of on the picky side, but I don't think I've ever in my life said to myself "Damn, that fella is super dreamy...oh, wait... nevermind. His calves are just too skinny." That's never happened. Possibly because, if I can see a dudes calves he's probably wearing shorts, and that's a dealbreaker for me. Probably my biggest one, in fact. It goes along with my other major dealbreaker, which is "If I can easily picture you on a farm with a piece of wheat or straw or whatever hanging out of your mouth, it's not ever going to happen." I guess I share my mother's fear of rubes.

I'm kind of happy about it the idea of it though though- in the same way that I'm kind of happy about manorexia. Sort of a "Ha! Now it's your turn to feel crappy about yourselves!" kind of thing. I'm big on schadenfreude.

That is all for now.

No comments: