outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- another pumpkin goes unpicked I'm sorry! I'm sorry I've been AWOL for like, what, a week now. I'm not dead, I'm not slowly suffocating in a ditch in Nebraska, I've not been abducted by aliens nor a truckful of confused teenaged boys, and to tell the truth I'm not even having a particularly tough time of it. Just not been feeling intimate with my diary. We're both getting on in age, and we need Viagra. You know what sucks about that new "lets you know when someone's changed their profile regarding you" feature? The fact that now people are alerted when you take them off your profile. At least, I think so. We may have to run some experiments. Someone take me off your list, and I'll tell you if I notice. In any case, if you notice I've taken you off my list and you're all WHAT THE FUCK about it, let me know and I'll explain. Under no circumstances should there be hard feelings about it. For the most part, these things are matters of fucking Netscape incompatibility. I must report that this morning of mornings, I have taken my first well-lit shower in my bathroom in over a month. My landlady, lazy byotch that she be, never did manage to get it taken care of, so when my father was over last night he wired it to be on-at-all-times, and now I pull a little chain to turn it on and off. It's great...except now I'm face to face with the fact that my bathroom is covered in scum and stray hair and my face is covered in blotches, and stray hair. Ewwww. I must admit, I look pretty great in near-complete darkness. Maybe I should change the wattage of my bathroom lightbulb. Let's travel back in time, because why not. Does everyone have their poetic licenses? Good. My father was over last night because he and my mother brought me home after we all visited my sister at Emerson after we came from my grandparents' house which is where we were after my mother, grandmother and I scoured the cityside for my flower girl dress pattern and appropriate and tasteful flower girl fabric. Follow? The flower girl search was little less than a total waste of time, because my lovely precious flower girl dress pattern is discontinued. Why don't they TELL you that when you're looking at it online? What cruelty is this? In a last-ditch effort we went around to my grandmother's favorite fabric stores begging and beseeching the clerks if they might have just one little copy in the back somewhere, but no, hard-hearted evil corporate, um, sewing whores of the apocolypse that they are, they must recycle all patterns that are discontinued. Why? Who cares, all you need to know is that it sucks. Continuing in the last-ditch effort theme I have going on, if any of you sees one of these lying around, call the police. Or email me, and I'll buy it from you for a nominal price. Like twenty bucks. It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine. I'd like to take this moment to profess my undying love and infinite passion for the programming network that is Nickelodeon. . . Thank you. You may go in peace. So, how were your long weekends, now that it's Thursday and you no longer remember what you did? If in fact you celebrate Labor Day at all. And speaking of oddly obscure reasons for getting a day off work, who besides the U.S. celebrates Columbus Day? Or do we not really celebrate it, but rather give thanks to the Free Money God that we get paid to not be at work on the day that some dead guy did some dead thing. Moving on. Woe of woes. Yes, let's move on to that. Pumpkin picking day, which my paternal family gets together for every year, and happens to be my favorite day of the year (let's face it, Christmas is nice, but why the fuck is it in December?), will be missed one hundred percent by yours truly this year. I am so bummed about this. I love pumpkin picking day! The family gets together in a northern suburb of Massachusetts, when the leaves are turning and the air is crisp and crackly and someone's setting fire to a pile of yard paraphernalia somewhere down the road. We all drive to a pumpkin field and pick out huge and little and round and misshappen sugar pumpkins and bring them home for carving. Then we go to an apple stand and buy fresh apples and cider and winter squashes and homemade pies and candy and bread...then we all head back to that northern suburb of Massachusetts and stuff ourselves silly with fall foods, and plan what kind of faces our jack o'lanterns will have. It's great! Most fabulous day of the year! And I, stupid fuck, just happened to plan my shitty vacation to too many places in too few days for the very weekend I should have known would be pumpkin picking day. Dag nabbit. They don't even have fall in Arizona. Their seasons in Tucson amount to wet desert, green desert, and dry desert. I'll be getting there around dry desert season. Curs-ed be the day I booked my tickets. Wah. But anyway. For anyone who cares about what I did five days ago, I'll tell ya. I didn't go to the concert on Friday, because I was feeling shitty, as mentioned, and just wanted to lie quietly amongst the Spongebob images on my tv. (Anyone catch the voice of Spongebob on Conan last night? He spake of midgits.) But I did take the plunge on Saturday, and I even called Megan to see if she'd like to join me. She wasn't there (thank god! I mean, shoot) but I went anyway all by my lonesome. Actually ran into an old friend from college on my way to Havard Square, but I digress. I was sort of uncomfortable standing around knowing no one but Bolo amidst his entourage of teenaged friends...so I bought some tea. Then, because it was frickin freezing, I bought a sweatshirt. Shortly thereafter, the Chick tracts came out (as well as a group of Jews for Jesus cult members...hmmmm) and I was able to start laughing sincerely. Goddamn those freaky Chick tracts are good for that. Bwahahaha. And Bolo, let me tell you, is so great. He's such a lot of fun, and as such, it's no wonder he's developed an entourage of teenaged friends. There were older people too, a woman who scared me and shall remain nameless, as I don't know her name, and a guy with a Spongebob shirt about whom I am fully qualmless. The band started to play at about 8:30, and I had had no drinks so it took me about 45 minutes (and a 17-year-old girl grinding on me AHHHHHH) to get me to start dancing. Then I was good for the night. It was a really fun time and I hope I can get back there before it starts getting really cold. I'd like to drag a few friends out there, if I can. I trust Bolo when he says something will be a good time. You can trust me when I tell you something will be a good time. If you fail to trust either of us because you fear ballistic boombox speakers, I'm afraid you're just missing out ;) I must go call my aunt and regretfully inform her that I'll not be present at the pumpking picking extravaganza. Luckily, I'm the Stoic type. 5:05 p.m. - 2002-09-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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