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I like rye bread 2001-10-04 Okay. This site is so good you should get your ass over there, tout suit. The best thing about this site is the unbelievably fabulous scathing reviews of horrible cheesy television shows. Whoever writes that stuff is a genius, for real. Speaking of cheesy, last night Francisco rented Josie Y Los Gatos, and it was fun. It's not something we would've seen in the theater, but it was great for a Wednesday night. Pure cotton-candy fluff; I really love Parker Posey. We had chicken burritos to go with the movie, and they were So Good. Tomorrow morning I have an eye checkup, and I'm not really looking forward to it. It's the annual checkup where they dilate my pupils and send me away in those big plastic and cardboard sunglasses. The last time I had one of those, the woman dilated my eyes and sent me out to sit in the waiting room for a few minutes, or at least that was her plan. She put the drops in my eyes and then opened the door to the waiting room and I guess she stood there for a minute, waiting for me to leave, but since this was all being done with non-verbal communication (I didn't know I was supposed to leave), I continued to sit in the medical chair, clueless (because without my contact lenses I couldn't see what she was doing, capische?). Finally she cleared her throat and told me I needed to go out and wait, and then she said, loudly, "Do you need help? You're really blind!!" I refused help, since I could see enough to make it to a chair, but I thought, "So much for doctor-patient confidentiality", because the whole waiting room heard her. I think the thing I am least happy about, regarding this eye doctor appointment, is the glaucoma test. Last time when the woman was about to do the test, I asked her if the thing was going to touch my eye, and she said no. Then afterwards she recanted and said that it did touch my eye but that she'd lied because she didn't want me to freak out. Well what about now, little Miss Liar?! Now I have to go in there KNOWING the thing will touch my eye. Couldn't she have just not told me? I guess I need to get a grip, because I do, after all, want to get the Lasik surgery, and in that surgery the machine not only touches your eye but cuts a flap in the cornea. I'm going to load up on valium before I get the Lasik. I've been peeing a lot the past couple days. My liquid output has been of much larger volume than my intake, but I'm not worried because at least I'm not retaining water, and I'm definitely drinking enough. This is not something you need to know, but I just thought I'd mention how I could practically learn conversational Italian with the time I've been spending in that bathroom. When I was in junior high my class took a field trip to the nearby Wonder Bread factory. I paid almost zero attention to the factory proper, preferring instead to socialize with my friends and be cruelly mocked by practically everybody (jr. high was a very bad time for me--I was an outcast, pure and simple). When the factory tour was over someone gave each of us a loaf of bread that was still warm from the gigantic factory ovens, which I thought was a very nice gesture. Once we were all back on the bus, many of my classmates began opening their bread bags and squeezing the soft inner-bread into dough lumps, which they then hurled at each other. I sat there feeling sad that these chimps I went to school with were so ungrateful for their free Wonder Bread. Wonder Bread was something I actively coveted when I was a little kid, because at that point my taste buds craved the fiber-free softness only Wonder Bread could supply. I remember asking my mom why we couldn't have Wonder Bread. I said, "Erin [a friend] gets to have Wonder Bread", to which my mom replied, "Yeah, well Erin's family has a Winnebago too." That was a mildly confusing response, but I knew she was saying Erin's parents had more money than we did. Still, I had spent the night at Erin's house a few times, and in practical terms, Erin didn't seem richer than us. She had 5 siblings and her house was always dirty and her older brother walked around in a jock strap. Yet they had Wonder Bread; go figure. I'm not sure what the point to this story is; probably there Is no point, but for some reason the Wonder Bread field trip flashed through my head yesterday and I felt like writing it down. And just for the record, I no longer crave soft bread and I wouldn't eat Wonder Bread for love or money. I'll take the whole grains and their bowel-scouring fiber over pillowy bread any day of the week. I've got a 33 year old colon to consider. When I got home from work yesterday, Boy told me that a friend in his class had confided which girl he likes, so Boy also confided which girl he likes. His friend then went to Boy's girl/crush and asked her if she liked Boy, and the girl said "kind of". I asked Boy if his friend had told the girl Boy liked her before asking her if she liked him, and he said no. It is pretty clear to me that the girl in question was hedging her bets with that answer, and of Course she likes Boy. What's not to like? I can't believe he is old enough to like girls and have them like him back. What's next?: Do you like me? (check one) ___yes ___no [shudder] Ten years old seems too young for this kind of thing. I keep repeating to myself, "it's just a training crush, it's just a training crush...". I think my work is just about done here. It's after 5 and I'm going home, and consequentially I'm feeling very happy. I hope you are too. Love! E
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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