Sunday, November 18, 2007


FYI - not appropriate for the under-18 crowd

So this Saturday night I was meeting up with a friend...I was "dressing to impress," with a new white sweater dress and my favorite fuzzy boots (to be fair, I only have one pair of those). It was nothing too revealing—it's a loose dress, and turtleneck at that. And while it's shortish, it's nothing ridic.

A random possibly homeless guy hanging out near CVS told me that I looked beautiful. I said thank you. I thought that was rather nice of him, and appreciated the compliment since I felt like I was stepping a bit out of my style comfort zone. All positive feedback is appreciated, and even though I know homeless guys hand out those things like candy, it's still cool.

So I met up with the friend, and we were walking down P St., and it was pretty quiet. Someone was walking toward us, but I didn't take notice since he seemed normal. Your average pedestrian.

Well, when he got close to us, he pointed to me, and said,

"YOU with your BOOTS! You kick up leaves in those BOOTS and force men to go home and MASTURBATE ALONE!"

My response: Wide eyes and a quiet "Oh!"

Like, did he just say the M-word?

Tuesday, November 13, 2007


I seem to be struck by you...

I am so addicted to "Paralyzer" by Finger 11. The beat in the beginning catches me, and the guy's voice is super-hot. I don't know even know what exactly he means by "if your body matches what your eyes can do, you'll probably move right through me on my way to you" - but I love it. Yowza.

I'm one of those annoying persons (word choice?) who listens to a song over and over and over until I reach my limit. Right now I'm only on playcount 13 for this song...perhaps one day I'll reach the monumental playcount of "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie, which is sitting pretty at 53 plays.

That's actually quite phenomenal, since the next closest song is "Desperation" by Miranda Lambert, with 19 plays. I was clearly in a self-pitying mood for quite some time.

A month or so ago I read Dingley Falls by Michael Malone. The cover labels it as "the wildest, sexiest novel of the year!!" (which was 1980. a surprisingly steamy year, apparently). My friends lovingly nicknamed it "pornography," but really, that's not what it's about. It follows a bunch of characters in the fictional town of Dingley Falls, Connecticut, and one storyline is that of an old woman. One of my favorite passages in the book relates to her:

"She felt sorry for herself, and sorrier because there was no one but herself to pity her, and sorrier still because self-pity was such an unattractive quality, revealing, as it did, that very weakness of character for which she pitied herself."
- pg. 265

Reading that, I fairly jumped out of my chair. I'm positive that I pumped my fist in the air and yelled "YES!" There's nothing like reading your thoughts on a page, knowing that someone else has thought them and you're not the only one feeling a certain way.

That's not to say that I'm feeling that way right now, but you know what I mean?

Life is good. The Christmas lights and wreaths are up at Union Station. I'm going home for Thanksgiving in a week. I have articles to edit at work, a new planner in my pocketbook, Argentinian wine on top of the fridge, and gingerbread in the oven. Can anyone ask for anything more?

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