I've Been Such a Waste of Cake
Eye Dialect - spelling a word as it sounds when sloppily pronounced.
I want to wake up the house tomorrow with The Kills' U R A Fever.
In my long life, "senescence," ironically enough, is a word I've never come across.
When it comes to ignoring pain symptoms, "stoic" is just another way to spell "stupid." (It was a better quip in my mind, where I thought that each word had the same number of letters, but now I realize that I was just being stoic.)
But what I really want to be when I grow up, Mommy, is a beard: At a hotel convention, the man behind me in line at the, gack, buffet claimed that the number of vacationing single-women was way up. In response to me asking him why that was so, the man explained that it was because more men were coming out of the closet and didn't feel compelled to have to live with woman anymore. I had noticed, before he offered me this explanation, that the man, a professor at Paul Smith, a college within the SUNY system, exhibited a gay affect. The whole scene was one of those wire-crossers: too many messages, impulses, and responses all jumping about at once in my brain, forcing time and my mouth to grind to a halt. I don't really think that all men hate women or that most heterosexual acting men were closeted gays. Maybe women actually make enough money now to go on vacation by themselves, or their husbands have left them for other women, or that more women won't settle for just any guy for the sake of a "Mrs." degree, or the husband has traveled his butt off for work and wants to stay home, or the husband who actually kind of loved his wife died of a heart attack because that's what some men do, I guess, but only when they aren't all so busy trying to come out of the closet. It felt so mean what he said, like in a perfect world we girls would be so unnecessary.
Stay Young, Staycation. To save money on ski vacations, don't pay for unappreciated chic, fly as little as possible - think "large airport endpoints" and look for ski resorts with all amenities at the mountain base, or so today's NY Time's travel section advises. It would be even cheaper if I could just stay home. Besides, I don't need the reminder that I could be dead in less than two decades. There is nothing more convincing on the topic of my own mortality than feeling nausea-level muscle fatigue by the simple of act of letting gravity do its thing and push me downhill. Or how about the 53 places to go in 2008, from 12/9 Sunday Times? (I haven't had the time to read a Sunday paper since 12/2, it appears.) I'm certain to get to Laos, Lisbon, and Tunisia, right after my 49 trips to the international food aisle of the local Wegman's supermarket. Maybe I can substitute one airline ticket to Rocky Mountain Death Camp for something at Mid-Beach, Miami, something like the Fountainebleau.
Geneology - 23andme.com or genetree.com or ancestry.com. Someone did an extremely thorough job on my lineage. It's a heartbreaker to find out you're not a princess. It's sickening to find out that a long ago, distant relative married a woman who hacked up their six-year-old son in the barn, after dinner one night. (They had ... a barn?) It's sad to know a great-great uncle rode a train engine down off a trestle, the way a captain goes down with the ship, except without the water. Or the ship. The princess fantasy was working my life-drive way better than what yellowed newspaper clippings had to offer. No nobility, and barely a whiff of good judgment in the whole lot.
Botox as a gateway drug: (1) Must do research on the medspa mall (?) chains - Sleek, Sona, Pure, Dermacare, Skin Care Clinics, and American Laser Centers. HealthWest and SkinKlinic closed. Medicis about to get FDA approval for Reloxin, which will be the first US competition Allergan has had for its Botox. (1) Must remember to tell Dad to sell Allergan stock, although it seems that anything Allergan does, like Annie Oakley, it does better.
I can't imagine ever having a home theater. I'm not sure I'd ever get out of the seat.
I want to wake up the house tomorrow with The Kills' U R A Fever.
In my long life, "senescence," ironically enough, is a word I've never come across.
When it comes to ignoring pain symptoms, "stoic" is just another way to spell "stupid." (It was a better quip in my mind, where I thought that each word had the same number of letters, but now I realize that I was just being stoic.)
But what I really want to be when I grow up, Mommy, is a beard: At a hotel convention, the man behind me in line at the, gack, buffet claimed that the number of vacationing single-women was way up. In response to me asking him why that was so, the man explained that it was because more men were coming out of the closet and didn't feel compelled to have to live with woman anymore. I had noticed, before he offered me this explanation, that the man, a professor at Paul Smith, a college within the SUNY system, exhibited a gay affect. The whole scene was one of those wire-crossers: too many messages, impulses, and responses all jumping about at once in my brain, forcing time and my mouth to grind to a halt. I don't really think that all men hate women or that most heterosexual acting men were closeted gays. Maybe women actually make enough money now to go on vacation by themselves, or their husbands have left them for other women, or that more women won't settle for just any guy for the sake of a "Mrs." degree, or the husband has traveled his butt off for work and wants to stay home, or the husband who actually kind of loved his wife died of a heart attack because that's what some men do, I guess, but only when they aren't all so busy trying to come out of the closet. It felt so mean what he said, like in a perfect world we girls would be so unnecessary.
Stay Young, Staycation. To save money on ski vacations, don't pay for unappreciated chic, fly as little as possible - think "large airport endpoints" and look for ski resorts with all amenities at the mountain base, or so today's NY Time's travel section advises. It would be even cheaper if I could just stay home. Besides, I don't need the reminder that I could be dead in less than two decades. There is nothing more convincing on the topic of my own mortality than feeling nausea-level muscle fatigue by the simple of act of letting gravity do its thing and push me downhill. Or how about the 53 places to go in 2008, from 12/9 Sunday Times? (I haven't had the time to read a Sunday paper since 12/2, it appears.) I'm certain to get to Laos, Lisbon, and Tunisia, right after my 49 trips to the international food aisle of the local Wegman's supermarket. Maybe I can substitute one airline ticket to Rocky Mountain Death Camp for something at Mid-Beach, Miami, something like the Fountainebleau.
Geneology - 23andme.com or genetree.com or ancestry.com. Someone did an extremely thorough job on my lineage. It's a heartbreaker to find out you're not a princess. It's sickening to find out that a long ago, distant relative married a woman who hacked up their six-year-old son in the barn, after dinner one night. (They had ... a barn?) It's sad to know a great-great uncle rode a train engine down off a trestle, the way a captain goes down with the ship, except without the water. Or the ship. The princess fantasy was working my life-drive way better than what yellowed newspaper clippings had to offer. No nobility, and barely a whiff of good judgment in the whole lot.
Botox as a gateway drug: (1) Must do research on the medspa mall (?) chains - Sleek, Sona, Pure, Dermacare, Skin Care Clinics, and American Laser Centers. HealthWest and SkinKlinic closed. Medicis about to get FDA approval for Reloxin, which will be the first US competition Allergan has had for its Botox. (1) Must remember to tell Dad to sell Allergan stock, although it seems that anything Allergan does, like Annie Oakley, it does better.
I can't imagine ever having a home theater. I'm not sure I'd ever get out of the seat.
posted by Cate at 6:34 em
1 Comments:
Spell it "stoick."
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