Tuesday, July 29, 2003

BOILING

I was introduced to a new concept the other day as I was riding home from work. Lest you think I was actually talking to anyone on the bus, I should say that I was "eavesdropping" on a woman who was having an extremely loud conversation with a stranger. Anyway, Miss Loud (who was wearing every shade of brown imaginable, by the way) was explaining about how she likes hot weather, and heat in general, but the one kind of heat she didn't like ... can you guess ... it's not dry heat, or humid heat ... it's bus heat.

Bus heat makes a lot of sense when you think about it. It definitely has its own properties. Bus heat is moist with the perspiration of a thousand sweating alcoholics. It is ripe with the odor of unwashed commuters. And it is mysteriously impervious to any cooling breezes. Are you getting the picture?

We're currently experiencing a lot of bus heat in Seattle. Stay away, if you know what's good for you.

Sunday, July 27, 2003

Try To Contain Your Jealousy

Never before have I felt so honored, so appreciated. You're NOT going to believe what happened to me. Not in a million years will you believe it. It will astound you. Drive you wild with envy. You will gnash your teeth (contraindicated for those suffering with TMJ, as I AM). You will tear out clumps of hair. But hopefully, HOPEFULLY, you will be as proud of me as I am proud of myself. FINALLY, I have been recognized for the paragon of genius and virtue that I am!

I have been invited to join the Outstanding Students Honor Society. (I KNOW!) They tell me it's a real honor, well above that paltry grab-for-cash known as the Who's Who of American High School Students. Yeah, well, suck THIS, high school students. I have been deemed OUTSTANDING! And there are benefits to being a member too. Let me quote my invitation, so I don't leave out a single word. "Benefits include:

Life-time membership in OSHS
Be authorized to put your honor member status on resume
Be considered for a variety of yearly National Achievement Awards
Awards/Membership status verification service online
Be eligible to participate in our scholarship programs
Receive Outstanding Student Network newsletter
."

(Clearly this list was not compiled by an actual outstanding honor student. But that shouldn't detract from my glory.)

I can't help but look forward to the day that I receive my first newsletter; the one with my name proudly emblazoned on the envelope. I can't help but dream about the day that I will stride across a room with my resume in hand, the one that says that I AM OUTSTANDING. Jaws will drop. Heads will turn (and not just because of my withered leg this time). My ship will finally have come in.

Now this is where you come in. All I need to join FOR A LIFETIME is $32. Just a mere $32, people. Please send your donations now. Help me realize my potential. Help me realize my dream. Help me be ... OUTSTANDING.

Sunday, July 20, 2003

My Life (or more accurately, My Weekend) In Pictures

Picture 1: Sweltering day. Sweltering. Like, 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Or more. Sweltering. I'm sitting in a cool (88 degree) breeze outside of a coffee shop on a busy street, drinking an iced coffee that frankly has more in common with a peanut buster parfait than it does with a cup of coffee. There's a smile on my face because I've been shopping for adorable baby items. Nothing brings a smile to one's face as quickly as cute things for children. Now that I know this, I am going to shop for baby things often, even if I never buy a single item.

Picture 2: My sister is sitting in her office, reading this. It might be a sweltering day where she lives. She is quite fat. As her eyes scan across the words "never buy a single item," she starts screaming like Ned Flanders.

Picture 3: Another awful day. People everywhere are hoping that Adam will complete his project to blot out the sun SOON. I am sitting in a cool office building, cultivating a really powerful case of carpal tunnel, not to mention a really strong workers' comp claim. But I am not hot. You do the math.

Picture 4: I give up working and leave the cool climes of the 17th floor. I walk outside, eager to embrace what's left of my weekend. I open the door of my office building. My face is melting like I've just opened the Ark of the Covenant. It is that hot. The surface of the sun has nothing on Seattle.

Picture 5: A warm evening. I have eaten more than is good for me, mostly because how can you NOT eat too much corn on the cob? I've also had steak and zucchini and wine and cheesecake and raspberries and Redi-Whip. Now I'm sitting on a porch swing, discussing the events of the day with a cool beer in my hand. Life is good. Hot, but good.

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

When it rains, it pours
How bad things sometimes happen in fives and nines

They teach us in yoga that we can dedicate our practice each day to ourselves or something we'd like to advance in our lives, or to something else, a greater good. I usually try to send my energy to those in my life who I know may need it. But as energetic as I may be, and as often as I may practice yoga, lately it feels like I'm falling behind a little. So if you have any extra energy and you feel like sending it my way, I'll be sure to redistribute it accordingly.

Strange but true

I am sitting here in a relatively shitty mood, pondering how I came to be NUMBER 13 on the MSN Search's list of free transexual porn sites.

I suppose now I'll move to Number One or something. Such is my life.

Monday, July 14, 2003

Hier Soir

Last night I had a resoundingly successful dinner party for eight people. I made shredded beef and potato rolls, asparagus/orange salad, strawberry/spinach salad, cucumber raita and a fennel/baby pea saute. My friend Rand made an amazing chocolate mousse cake with raspberries placed so beautifully on top that even Martha Stewart would have blushed. The wine (and margaritas) flowed freely (too freely -- it was only upon discovering that I had a hangover this morning that I realized how much I'd had to drink last night), the conversation bubbled along better than I ever could have hoped (I have great friends), and a really good time was had by all.

I'm working fifty hours this week and I try to leave by 4:30 every day so I can fit in my yoga classes. So I'd write more, but I have to go to bed RIGHT NOW. Or I'll miss the early bus (the one filled with prostitutes going home from work).

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

A Whole Lot Of Nothing

I'm writing this because I'm a little sick of being reminded about the grody make-out squad. (There were more incidents the next day, perpetrated by some woman and a man wearing a Utilikilt -- those things are the antithesis of useful, by the way). But the problem is that I have nothing to report. Nothing of excitement. Nothing to make you laugh.

All's I do is work these days. I've been working a lot of 12-hour days, actually. Four in a row, over the weekend. (Don't feel sorry for me, I volunteered.) So, you know, lots of work equals lots of tired. There was some excitement on Saturday night when I got home at about 10 and my street was blocked off by police cars. Turns out they were conducting a manhunt with their K-9 units on my block. So I had to wait for half an hour before I could go home. (I felt really safe that night.) But I haven't been pillaged yet by any marauders, so if the perps are still living in my basement (which is one of my many working theories), they're too scared to venture through the kitchen to come upstairs.

I suppose I should scoot on about my day. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

Ode To The Most Disgusting Couple Ever

Why, oh why,
Do you have to make out on the bus?
Share your diseases elsewhere.
No one wants to see that.

Oh Lord. Yeah, great. Ahhh, sir?
Do YOU HAVE to put your hand
down the back of your girlfriend's jeans
(the pair with the unflattering elastic waistband)?
It's just that I don't feel so well today....

Oh, Jesus God, OH GOD NO!
Ma'am, ummm, ma'am, yes you...
could you please refrain
from sucking on your boyfriend's fingers
until after I've exited the bus?
My stomach, it lacks fortitude ...
the recurring tuberculosis, you see ....

What? What's that I just heard?
Your boyfriend "just got out?"
Out of what? Oh wait. Oh. I think I can guess.
Hence the urgency of your filthy
and diseased
coupling.

Please don't reproduce.