get in where you fit, and go on and shine (repost from myspace)

february 15, 2006:

Today's sunrise was spectacular. Best since the Hot Pink Huge one. Sunrise over the city is the prettiest thing i see all day, and my only recompense for waking up so freakin early. Also, i'm trying to appreciate it as the one and only not-daylight savings time thing i like. Once the time switcharoo comes (finally! running outside after five p.m.!) I'll no longer be able to watch the sun make its majestic entrance into day while i drive to work. But for now, it's the loveliest thing i see all day, most days. Lovlier by far than my Wall of Purses. Lovelier than when customers show me pictures of their babies. Lovelier than the puppies at the store where i buy mice for the snake. Lovelier than picking out cut flowers at the Whole Foods. It's so dramatic and fleeting. It might be a metaphor for life. But i'm not gonna force Sunrise Over the City into any kind of deeper-meaning mold like that. Just take it as it is: fabulous and serene.

I gotta start going back to the gym. I stopped going when i caught a cold about three weeks ago. Next time you see me, ask how many months along i am. That should get me back on the treadmill. Once a customer did ask me if i were pregnant. No, i'm wearing a bulky sweater, fucker; it's cold out.
But i did go the gym that night.

No matter how much i work out, my Girls won't go away. They're a blessing and a curse.
mostly a curse though.

I hate pop-ups. Not the normal kind that sort of hide behind whatever page you're looking at, then when you go to close down, you can just X them away. No, those are retarded, but handleable for the most part. No, what i hate are those stupid pop-ups that pop up somehow within whatever page im trying to view, and have transparent backgrounds so i cant even find the X to make them go away. Good gosh! i just want to know the weather here, kids! I do not want to see the new Buick Lucerne options! i did not somehow type in the wrong web address. don't insult me!

Joe reminded me: A guy i used to know, Kraustopher, was a manager at abercrombie when i was in high school. Once, for reasons i cant remember, i helped him unload a new shipment of jeans in the stockroom. (this is strange for a number of reasons; feel free to attach your own underlying purposes.) So,based on my experience with the unpacking process, here's how i think the packing-up process goes at Abercrombie Itn'l:
1. rub jeans on stones
2. crumple jeans some. run over with car.
3. fold jeans in half then roll into a ball
4. secure with two rubber bands
5. pack tightly into box
6. cover liberally with dirt. ground dirt. brown dirt
7. tape up box and send off to cobb county and points beyond.
Now, my comment here is: box? Does that box protect the jeans from... clean?

And here's the truth: Apparently i do care what people think of me. hmph.
Here's how i realized it: I hate oprah's book club. i rarely read current fiction; i prefer the old stuff. but when i do read new books, i'm appalled to think the masses (masses? who's watching me read?) think i'm reading it because oprah told me to. i get enraged at the very idea. maybe i just thought the cover was pretty. or my mom gave me the book. or jenn recommended it. i hate reading a book and enjoying it, only to find months later that oprah has begun to endorse it. it makes me like the book less. i am not a mindless drone. i do not let talk-show hosts make decisions for me. neither should you.

also, i think im beginning to let petty inconveniences actually bother me. maybe it's volume of inconveniences i feel i am subject to. or maybe im becoming a bitter old woman of sorts. or maybe i should just come off it cuz life is freakin short, and it doesnt matter if someone forgets to shut the door. or if someone cuts me off, then confusingly flicks me off. or if someone takes the tray of sashimi i was gonna get, while i'm off picking out a baguette. it really just doesnt matter. not one bit. they're called Petty for a reason.