A Girl...

Girl's Got Chops

Make with the words, he tells me.

Okay, I will try.

The lack of posting has been due to (a) much work at work, (b) much going out in the evenings, and (c) much difficulty making my words stand up straight, wear clean shirts, and line up all orderly like good little VonTrapps. Nothing seems to come out quite right and that annoys me.

Happily, the work has been good, the going out has been good, and I've gotten my writing fix in other ways, specifically in the discovery of a folder full of my old creative writing from the time when people gave me certificates and ribbons and awards for my words, when that was what people knew me for, when I was The Girl Who Wrote. Past Me is impressing Present Me, so that's been fun and surprising. For having been such a whitebread goody-goody, I sure wrote about death and tragedy a lot. Who knew?

Like a great movie or a great roadtrip, my life as of late has been driven by music. Between Wednesday and Sunday, I saw the following bands (listed here in ascending order of wonderfulness and crushworthiness):

Kill Me Tomorrow
Pretty Girls Make Graves
Dios Malos
Okkerville River
They Might Be Giants
The Decemberists

I have pictures from the last two, but I'm not going to post them yet because I've already sort of worked them into an entry about how I fall in love with anyone who can coax a melody or a beat out of an instrument. I'll try to wrangle those thoughts into shape and serve them up tomorrow, if not before.

Here are some things I am thinking about today:

I should make an effort to get to work before 11. Even though I stay until 7, I really should use my evenings to go to the gym or do something productive that will mean something one, six, fifty months from now. Spinning wheels is only good when it improves the firmness and shape of one's ass. Otherwise, I'm getting nowhere fast.

Why is Gilmore Girls always on hiatus? Why? Why?!

Pork chops! I have pork chops in my fridge!

Ethan needs a girlfriend, and it needs to not be me. Ladies, I can vouch for him; he's great. Please take him home with you. Neither one of us can continue to watch shockingly mediocre-to-bad movies on my couch while he aaaaalmost touches me in places he shouldn't be touching me.

The guy in front of me at Safeway last night was buying all of the exact same stuff I was. $100 worth of yogurt and chocolate pudding and canned chili and frozen pizza and kiddie cereals. If I hadn't been still thinking about him when it was my turn to pay, I would have noticed that the cashier didn't give me my $20 cash back. Argh.

When is enough enough? Will I know it when I see it?

I think they're secretly filming a reality show at the McDonald's by my work because everyone behind the counter there looks like they belong on Temptation Island. So tan, so pretty, such nice white teeth, such expertly cut hair. The manager looks like James Denton. I will start putting on lip gloss before going in to order my filet-o-yum.

Health insurance is only a good deal if you use it. It makes me want to drive my car into a wall and go make out with some lepers.

Posted by Leah at March 29, 2005 11:39 AM