Is it guilty pleasure to love Cheap Trick? I don’t think so, Styx maybe, but Cheap Trick is awesome. I stand by the Trick. Someday, I’ll post some covers of “Surrender” which is one of my favorite songs. Or have I already? I get so confused. Anyway, it’s the truth, I’d love you guys to love me.
Back when Wicked Game came out, it was my most reverent wish to marry Chris Isaak. Or at least smooch him a lot. I’ve seen him in concert so many times. Not just because of the smoochability factor, but because he puts on the best show. If I get ever get married, and I’m rich, do you think I could hire him to play my wedding? And if so, do you think I could get a smooch? For old time’s sake?
I am not a photographer. I just sorta point the camera in a vague direction and hit the button. However, I could hardly resist taking a picture of satan, now could I?
This is Michael defeating Satan and sending him down to hell. As if. What’s the with lobster claws? I don’t know. It’s a weird statue.
Before I cropped it, my mom’s hand was in the shot (vague pointing, remember). She was in my way. She must be a bigger worshipper of satan than I.
Home now. I just opened a bottle of diet sprite and it bubbled up over the lip of the bottle, down my hands and onto my lap. How refreshing is that?
The flight home was not pleasant, and AA can expect an email from me. Which means that they failed to provide adequate service in a way that could have been easily avoided. I don’t write complaints often. But I’m very… vexed with them. Maybe we’ll talk about it later, I just had a post vacation massage and she beat the crap out of me. Seriously. The crap. Out. Of me. So I’m a bit noodley.
I’m in New York City right now. I gotta tell you, I’m about museumed out. Here is the thing with me and museums… well, let me just give you an impression of me in a musuem:
“oh, ok, painting, painting, very interesting, uh-oh, ok, another painting, look it’s jesus… again, painting, ok, nice, sure whatever, Oh! That’s very nice! I like that a lot! Ok, painting, painting, painting, very nice, ok, whatever.”
The “Oh! That’s very nice” moments are few and far between, and become even more infrequent the more I am in a museum. Even tho, I have to say, I did enjoy them. I kinda think that, maybe, the museum of natural history might be a bit more interesting because it’s sciencey and such.
My mom’s the same way, luckily. We decided the next museum we aren’t even going to go in, but just go straight to the museum store. hee!
Anyway, I just got back from a night tour, and I’m freezing and I think I’d like to crawl under the covers. So we’ll talk soon, ok?
I’ve been a little out of sorts lately. I’m gradually tapering off some medication I’ve been on for a long time. Each step down has been a reduction by half and each reduction is more annoying and troublesome than the one before it. In the past, I’ve talked about dealing with depression. It hasn’t come up in a while because, actually, I’ve been doing well for the last few years. Which is why I am now working my way off the antidepressant. It’s kicking my ass, I’ll tell you what, because I stopped entirely last week. It takes a few days before withdrawal kicks in. And now, I think my current state can best be summed up in this video I saw on cuteoverload.com.
I’ve never been a morning person, but right now it’s ridunculous how hard it is to wake up. I hear the alarm, sometimes, but I cannot fully wake up. It’s not unlike being sedated. I think I fell back asleep in the midst of talking to Wil a couple of times, in the morning.
I’m a little worried because my mom is picking me up at 6:30 tomorrow morning, we are leaving for New York. Wil says he’ll call me at six to say goodbye and wish my Happy Birthday [look how I managed to drop in the fact that tomorrow is my birthday, I am so subtle].
Irritability is also an issue. It’s totally irrational rage. I haven’t hit anyone. And I’m pretty good at recognizing that it’s not normal, and dealing with it somewhat calmly. It comes out most frequently when I am driving. On the way home tonight I was heard to say:
Why don’t you just get out of my way you fucking fuck. You do not belong in the left hand lane… FUCK FUCK FUCK I HATE YOU!!
Oh, smooth fucko, you’ve just wasted at least 30 seconds of EVERYONE’S LIFE ARE YOU HAPPY? FUCKO?
You know, biker boy, I’m bigger than you, I’m faster than you, I’m made of metal and if I hit you, it will hurt your ecologically conscious ass. What do you think of that? Then just get the hell out of my way, assface!
Ma’am, congratulations on being a butt, I hope you are enjoying that phone conversation you GIGANTIC BUTT!
Somehow, based on past experiences, I think New York will be able to handle my rage.
I’d wish me happy birthday if I were you, you don’t want to make me angry, do you?
I would like to post, if I may, a brief, but glowing, review of my new shoes. They are Keen shoes.
There they are. I bought them for my upcoming trip to New York. I wanted something that was a good walking shoe, being from the West coast, as I am, I am not used to all the walking I am going to be doing over those 5 days. But, I wanted something more autumnal and a bit nicer than sneakers. The Man and Dr. Stevil are pretty huge fans of the Keens. I’m a fan of the Merrill, so I was looking for something along those lines.
Let me tell you something, these shoes? They are made for walking! I took them out for a test run on Friday when Wil made me walk and walk and walk around in the fresh air and sunshine. I don’t know why he hates me so, that he makes me go outside and do physical activities like that. Sometimes, tho, he lets me hold his hand, so it’s all good.
No, in all seriousness, we went walking around the neighborhood and it was fun because you don’t see things when you drive. You don’t notice all the gingerbread details on the houses. The sun was out, the air was crisp and the leaves were all different colors. Only my nose got cold, occasionally, and I just stuck it in Wil’s neck until it warmed up. We were able to discuss just how much yard we thought we could handle, if we owned houses. Me? About a postage stamp size. And it gave him an opportunity to show me where he and his best friend used to live, and the black streaks that still remain on the white stucco where J9 egged their house.
“What did you do to deserve that?”
“I don’t know… I’m sure we were totally innocent.”
“Yeah, right.”
Anyway, the shoes worked like a charm. Completely comfortable, no blisters, no rubbing spots. I told Wil he needs some of these shoes. He’s a walking nut.
October is the best month of the year, I swear. I love autumn. These shoes are New York City bound in four days.
