I said this to A. yesterday, and declared that if I ever started a band, this would be the name of it. To which he says, “There’s already a band called that.” So, if you were hoping I would start a band, you can just give it up. My hopes are all dashed.
So, A. is out filming a rock show, which involves both the Clutters and the Woggles, and I am sitting here in my little computing compartment while my Birdy sleeps and sweats in her little sleeping compartment, and we are all separated and I’m not sure I’m in love with that idea. I couldn’t understand the family bed when Birdy first arrived, because when she did sleep with us, I couldn’t catch a wink. But now, when she snuggles up and falls asleep on me, I feel like neither one of us wants to be anywhere else in the world, so why do I peel her sweaty self off of mine and put her in this little cage to sleep?
And as I sit here in my computing compartment, I think, “I wonder what regrettable thing I can do right now?” And I answer, “Smoke cigarettes on the back porch!” So out I go to smoke cigarettes. One dog joins me, the other says “fuck that, I’m comfy, you’re dumb.” He is right, he is smarter than I.
I light my cig with a fireplace match found in the garage. The extra-long stick breaks and the flaming end lands on my saggybaggy sweatpants. And nothing—NOTHING-- spoils one’s fun like burning sweatpants, especially when one knows that they have burned their sweatpants while committing a regrettable act.
Also, while sitting outside, people continue to set off fireworks. And in my “emerging” and “urban” neighborhood, the farther you get from the 4th of July, the more the firecrackers sound like gunshots. So the cigarette was completely unenjoyable and rushed, serves me right.
TC of the Family B
I stayed home this morning to do some bill-paying and other family-business-completing, loodleylooing around in Quicken, categorizing, subtracting. And hey, guess what? I work part-time now! And for a lot less money on the hour! Oh, the Snee family is far, far beyond its budget. And I am not talking about spending outside of the perameters of an established little plan. I am talking about dipping into our small savings to pay for our necessities (like Netflix and superfast internet? Some prioritizing is in order). The Snees are not the “save for a rainy day” type. We can’t be, because it is always raining around here.
I like edgy films, but, um...
We watched about 40 minutes of a documentary film called Tarnation the other day. We could not finish it, due to the graphic (but true) descriptions of childhood abuses suffered, and the chilling thought of one person’s ill-informed decisions completely fucking up another person’s life. The film was effective, for sure, but I dare you to finish it. I’m still unable to shake it.
I bought this shirt at the Gap on my shopping spree. And it makes me feel thin and pre-baby-shaped. I enjoyed it all day, but that shirt is a liar.
Because I stayed home this morning, I drank nearly an entire pot of coffee, and showed up at work feeling like I’d just done some serious street drugs. It’s a wonder I didn’t claw at my own flesh and try to hide under my desk. I was completely tweaked.
I was seriously considering turning off my sitemeter (too much information), and my notifylist feature on this blog. The notifylist in particular, because sometimes I post something really dumb and I feel like I’m all “Hey you guys! Come look at what I did! Come look! See?!” But I’m not going to, because I am subscribed to one other person’s notifylist, and it is mimi smartypants. Every time I get that email about her new entry I get so excited. And on the off-chance that someone feels that way about this blog, I’ll keep it going. If it’s annoying, though, and you want to unsubscribe, I won’t be offended.
And finally, tonight, sitting in my little computing compartment, I’m kind of tweedledeeing around and procrastinating about my freelance project, and I’m hitting “next blog” over and over again on Blogger. And in the last—let’s say thirty—sites I’ve cruised (I'm fast, and so many are in Spanish), I have come across 3 S&M sites with very detailed descriptions and pictures (not hot pictures, I assure you—think giant bare ass in a gas station parking lot with cane marks on it). So, based on my very professional research, 10% of the blogs out there are freaky S&M sites. Just so you know. Also, according to the News, if you even think about getting on MySpace, something evil and perverted will seep through your computer screen and into your brain and you will have instantly been violated.*
*And I think they’re referring to the FOX tv ads on the home page.