For fun let's do it

A Meme, that is. Jeez, you sickos. Thought I was being a dirty perv, again, huh? Well, you'd be right. I'm still ill so am allowed.

Because of my cool e-pal Quick, I've been tagged to pick up the nearest book, flip to page 123 and quote sentences 6,7, and 8. The book is one my dad oddly sent to me called In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant. It would take too long to explain why my father is sending me a book about whores from the past but suffice it to say we aren't one of those weirdo families, ok? To the Meme!

6: It takes me longer to climb back up to the room.
7: When I get there, my face tells the story that my voice can't manage.
8: My lady drops her head.

Not as steamy as you would imagine in those few lines! Well, I wouldn't know, anyway. Haven't started the first page yet. I'd tag 5 more people but I think they've already done this. I usually lag behind like when I was 9 and got picked to run the marathon for my class and failed miserably. God, I never lived that down.

Sicky Weekend

Still locked up in the apartment with a raging monster of a cold. Oh, sorry. I mean, allergies. What a crock-full. I knew there was something wrong with the doctor I went to because she couldn't look into my eyes whilst speaking to me. You know what I mean? It's not the person's fault, they clearly have something wrong with them (can't tell if it's a physical or psychological thing but let's be real, if you're an effing doctor and it is a psychological thing to not look a patient in the eyes on purpose, that's super cranked-up) or what but the eyes are looking two inches to the right instead of my face. I'm sure the wall has been told its many symptoms over and over again. If I were the wall I would've told the doctor to shut the front door already. But walls don't do that. I think.

Still drug-less and in pain, I've decided to hole up on this sunny weekend and watch some recent big-hit mainstream movies. Finished Juno just now and by golly my goat, it is Good Stuff. The main character and her buddies are so hipster-ish it gets a bit grating but it makes me want to like angsty underground and slightly shit but ubercool bands again. Ok, she liked some awesome rock legends, too. I did like the film's plot a lot and it was refreshing to see no one shouting at each other. If they got pissed they sort of argued quietly and shut doors. She makes being pregnant not look so alien-ish or downright scary. But I've learned enough in my life that the stuff of tv and movies are not exactly 100% representative of things that happen for real. It's a feel-gooder. Good for a rainy (or sick and sunny) day.

Next up (actually, first up, since I watched this last night in the midst of hardcore sore-throatage. Ooh. Throatage. That doesn't seem right, does it? I keep wanting to put the word 'deep' in front of it. Filthy. Oh, get off, I'm sick and not in my right mind. 'Get off'. Heh.) is I Am Legend with the ever-aging-but-still-unbelievably-ripped Will Smith. I was actually on the set of this movie in Manhattan. Ooh, get a look at me. Nah, I'm all brag because I was actually held off by a puny PA on 5th Ave. for 30 minutes so they could get a shot of Will Smith's jeep going down the fake and filthy street. They filthified it with fake shrubbery and junk-yard cars. I took photos and talked to the PA who was actually not so bad. When he told me that it was a story about Will Smith being the last human in NYC and there are some sort of vampires on the loose, I thought, Oh jeez, this movie's gonna suck.

Eh. It was alright. I get scared easily because I can't take the unexpected. Haunted houses made me poo my pants (just about) when I was younger (22). When the fricking Blair Witch thingy came out I had to stop and call a friend to talk me through it. Seriously. Pathetic. I ended up doing the same thing with the Will Smith film last night. And my bf was in the same room. It is pretty bad when I have to stop it even with another person in the room. However, I made myself (and the bf to his chagrin) sit down and slowly make our way through the grisliness. I'm happy to say I've survived (with a cold, still).

Now, I'm honestly considering prolonging my illness to take a walk outside. It is taunting me. The fucker. Although, a trip to the chemist is a priority. I need kleenex box #5. Am off. 3 more films to get through. Serial killers, selfish queens and hardworking ones are on the agenda. Need to keep the pop culture up to date, you know.

Allergic

I came down with a nasty cold this week. Just when I thought I had escaped the scathing germ-filled winter, he stretched his last little frosty tentacle and snatched me into it. I've been balled up with the shivers and have gone through 3 boxes of kleenex as of yet (sorry, tmi).

I called the doctor for an appointment and do you know, it is harder to get a date with my doctor than a date with my favorite dj? Finally, today I was able to squeeze myself in (like the last person into the cramped subway who is the garfield sucker on the back doors). Oh..oh hold on. God. That was gross. Sorry.

Anywho. Turns out at the doc that I actually am suffering from allergies. This is total crap because I have never suffered allergies in my life. Except to certain types of metal. But apparently I have "swollen nostrils." But...but...why am I feeling like I have the flu? "Oh, you just have a little cold along with allergies. This happens to lots of people in the spring." Right. So, can I have antibiotics to fix myself, please? And lots of them? "Call me Monday if you're still not feeling well." Argh. 4 bloody days away. That's a long time if you feel like a jack-hammer is having a jolly go at your entire body.

Got home with some nifty nose drops and allergy medicine. I don't feel any difference. But it's been an hour. Perhaps this takes more time. Maybe it's like my tastes in food. I hated peanut butter until I was 20 then I couldn't get enough of the sticky stuff. Or pineapple. I thought it was the most disgusting fruit on earth until I was 23. Now it is the most yummy fruit on earth. I never had allergies until 25. And it is not like hating food and then loving food. It is like I was the luckiest person ever and now I'm not. *grabbing tissue and sulking off to bed*

Insert foot in mouth

This weekend kicked off the first of many summery-type ones filled with sunshine, music, food, and alcohol aka The Festivals. Saturday I went to see my favorite dj at the moment, Bassnectar. The venue was decked out in loads of colors and artful hangings. The atmosphere was peaked with the excitement this dj always illicits. And he was good. I think I've seen better before, not completely mind-blowing but good. Definitely danceable. I got a nice photo of Bassnectar really going for it and with his hair down he looks like a dirty yeti grinding beats together.

After being on the dancefloor with my girlfriends for awhile I made my way back up to the bar to get a drink and hug the bf. As I neared the bar I saw him and our friend, JHoward, standing with two cute girls and chatting. One girl was particularly interested in my bf but I didn't mind. I went up to them and said hi then talked to the girl for awhile and we danced for a little bit before she and her friend took off. She was nice.

The next day we were feeling a bit fragile and out of it in the late morning when a friend rings and says we should hit the Lincoln Park Zoo and see Bassnectar again. Bf and I rally ourselves and walk a mile to the smallish but beautiful zoo. Once there I felt like we were entering a strange dimension. I could see tons of little kids and parents but they were walking along-side blantant hippies* with organic clothes, dreds, and pipes in hand towards the pulsating sounds of music further into the zoo.**

When Bassnectar took the stage he looked much cleaner with his long yeti-ish hair back in a bun. He said, "We have so much to be grateful for." And at that moment I felt grateful. For everything. I am really happy with my life right now and have realized how thankful I am for this.

There I was bouncing around when I see a girl working her way into the crowd. I thought it was a girl I met at a different party a couple of weeks ago. She knows me, too. We greet each other warmly then I ask her if she wants to go find my friends who are getting drinks. The sun is shining down brightly and the music is thumping. Life is fantastic. We make our way to the drink area and I introduce her, "Hey! This is Kat. I met her at Resonate." The girl looks a little confused then says, "Actually, I'm Amy. We met last night." Realization dawned on me like a softball chucked at my head. Oh....yeah. The girl who liked bf and we had a little dance with. Er... "Haha. Er, yeah. Sorry, I sometimes do that." My friends look around awkwardly for a moment but then everyone starts talking and she's nice and sticks it out for awhile before saying she wanted to get back to the stage.

When she's good and gone my friends bust up laughing and I'm red from embarrassment. Great. Oh, well! Off for more dancing and getting happy in the sun, then a pub with food and lots of laughing. Overall, it was an awesome weekend. Can't wait for the next. I just hope I can remember who is who when I meet new people.


*Not saying hippies are bad. But filthy ones should wear deoderant and take showers at least every other day if they can't do it every day. That is all.
**Psst. Just to clarify, am not hippie.

Love

I came out of the shower, toweled dried the hair, put on some pjs and sauntered back into the living room of our apartment. Bf was at the computer downloading music. I went over to him for a hug. He pushed back long wet strands of hair from my face and said, "You're beautiful. The most beautiful girl. Not just in looks but in personality and I love you."

I am one lucky lady.

I am not that innocent

In the words of the poptard herself; I'm really not. I have one of those faces, unfortunately, where people assume instantly that I am innocent and sweet and shy, etc. Perhaps it's because I am a nice person and polite. This stuff is true. But it is the most annoying thing when I let slip a nasty word and all of a sudden everyone is aghast, "I didn't know you could swear! That is so unlike you!" No, it's fucking not. It's just like me.

Perhaps this is good. It means I can have a double life. Covert like. Perfect for a spy, right? I could be all James Bondish (but y'know, female; more macho and less oil slick in the hair). I'd put on a sweet smile with my "I would never do wrong" face then assassinate the Japanese Prime Minister and get off scot-free because people believe me when I say, "I don't know what you're talking about. I would never do that." Even when it was televised. Just kidding. It wouldn't happen. He's done nothing to me.

It's funny the people you meet and the stuff you automatically judge about them. I almost always feel that in the work place people get me wrong. Perhaps I'm not on my mark with the others, either. But honestly, in a corporate world, I think it may be best if they don't know who I really am. There are worse things that they could assume.

Stupid cocking innocent looks. The bane of my working existence.

F is for Funny

Watched Sesame Street for the first time in about 20 years yesterday whilst at a friend's house. They own a 3 year-old so it's pretty natural to wake up and hear that stuff on the tv. Is it just me or has Sesame Street gotten more awesome than ever? The writers have gotta be sick of the normal kiddie crap and are in the back room lighting up saying, "Yeah. Yeah. We can totally get away with this. Kids will think it's normal. We'll put a puppet in there and make it cute."

When I sat down into the leather chair and flopped my feet over the side, I got ready to be good and bored. But then Sesame Street was saying: "Welcome to the Bloom Network! Home of 'Desperate Houseplants'", cue angsty soap music and a close-up of two plant puppets in the shade, one of which has the word 'Stinky' written on its pot. They are sad because they have no shade and are drying up. But then! The gardener walks by and takes notice. Cue uplifting violins. He pulls the shade and waters the two desperate houseplants and everyone is happy!

Next up is a song on how kids can't talk to rocks, cars, or chairs because--duh! They're not alive. They also make sure to let us know that you can't measure these things, either. Apparently chairs don't grow. Who wouldathunkit? But they're totally wrong on the not talking bit. You can talk to cars and whatnot. They just don't answer you. Unless you've been prescribed the good stuff.

Then the Count appears and plays a tooting organ to the number 7 whereupon 7 dancing chickens dressed as gypsys surround him in a 7-chanting stomp.

C'MON. I don't ever remember Sesame Street being this entertaining as a kid! Or so blantantly made for stoners. Next time I flip on the tv for Big Bird I'll make sure to have a bong in waiting. Though obviously not in front of the 3 year-old. That's just wrong, innit?

Phone Conspiracies

I hate fax machines. I hate their horribly irritating 'Beep!......Beep!......Beep!' It makes me want to whip my phone out the window. I can't decide if it is my phone company's fault for giving me a number that clearly resembles someone's fax or if it's the effing idiot trying to fax something and mucking up the buttons.

It's haunting the bf and I. We come home from work and there's 3 messages on the answering machine. It gets my hopes up that someone I know has called. But instead I hear the pooey noise 'Beep!......Beep!......Beep!' I've gotten to the point where I look at the machine and I can't be bothered if its light is blinking. I wonder, "What if it really is someone I know who's trying to reach me? What if someone died? And I'd never know because I was too terrified of hearing a stupid beep from a fucking fax?" Curiousity overwhelms me and as I press the button and hear the beginning 'Beep!' I punch the delete key which such ferocity the phone stand wobbles and falls. Argh!!! I always fall for the blinking light!

It's getting much worse now. The stupid people trying to fax their crap to my phone must be a law firm or hospital or Some Place that people work over night and into the early hours because at 1am or 3am or 6am we have the phone ringing in the apartment. Here's me all groggy with sleep thinking, 'It's work!' or 'Someone's died!' or 'That fucking fax machine again...' and it's always the latter. So now the phone has to be unplugged at night.

You'd think that with all the landline phone drama that I'd use up the bad phone karma. But nah, someone out there in Phoneland wants me pissed off. People keep ringing my mobile and asking for a Matt. It's been happening for a couple months now. I think I've spoken to his mother, his best friend, his girlfriend, his other girlfriend, and his granny. I got a little lippy with the mom. Went off at the poor lady and said, "Lookit. You tell Matt to stop giving out my number. I'm sick of it. Tell him he needs to answer his own phone calls and unless he wants to pay me for being his personal receptionist then I'm not gonna. Compeesh?" No, not really. But I did tell his mother to tell that Matt whoever to stop giving out my number. And she sounded indignant. Arf. Now I tell it to whoever rings me and asks for Matt.

I'm not answering the phone anymore. Am in deep-screen mode and it's gonna stay that way. Please contact me via email or telepathy.