A Girl...

Break Dance

Too many pictures, too many words, too many possible combinations and themes, b&w, color, fucking sepia. Let's take us a wee break, shall we?

--From my window I can see that a man has been propped presumably drunkenly against the building across the street for the last hour, unmoving, wearing a T-shirt bundled around his head like a babushka with the sleeves hanging down at the sides like floppy rabbit ears. He's sitting directly across the street from the mid-block crosswalk I use to get home, and because I hate walking to the crosswalk all the way down at the corner, where the light will inevitably be green in the wrong direction when I get there, forcing me to stop (gawd) and wait (the agony), I'm hoping drunk guy will leave soon so I don't have to camp out in my office overnight in order to avoid him.

--We have still not unpacked from our vacation. I know I've grown up at least little over the years, though, because I actually CARE. Or maybe I'm just getting sick of the cat using the suitcases for wrestling practice.

--While we're away, I'm all, "How great that we're relatively young and relatively unfettered and definitely in love and that we can travel the world and see the sights, and who needs a stinking baby or a stinking house or a stinking life plan? Not me! Pass the heroin!" One day back and I'm all, "Look! This house only costs $460,000 and it even has a closet for the baby's crib! Let's buy it! Who cares if it's in the ghetto? We need room for a SWINGSET!" Apparently I wasn't away long enough.

--One of my coworkers has been sick three days this week, already people are speculating that she "drank the special water" that had one third of eligible office uteruseses occupied within the last year. Today a posting on our internal message board reads "SALLY IS NOT PREGNANT, but she IS going home sick again today." Is that what it's come to?

--I've been using my broken, handle-less tea mug this week because (1) the Jelly Belly mug Simon brought home from work doesn't have a handle and is hard to open, and (2) the Stanley-brand travel mug he bought me is a little too "industrial." The handle grip is basically a cylindrical metal cabinet rasp (product no. FXR02!), and although I'm sure it's tops in transporting highly corrosive materials and bludgeoning, it's all just a little too much for what I need--drinking old-English-lady tea with about a cup of sugar. (In Simon's defense, he bought it as a surprise, and he chose it because it came with a lifetime waranty (I should say so!). He's so thoughtful like that. (Did I ever tell you about the time he dropped me at the optometrist (with whom he had scheduled my appointment because I'm a puss), and because I hadn't eaten anything all day I was so busy, after he parked the car he went to the market and bought me an apple (green, the way I like them), a Gatorade (also green), and a little tub of macaroni and cheese? When he walked into the optometrist office with the goods, I just about dropped to my knees and, well, you know. SO WONDERFUL. (The macaroni and the boy.))