Nightmare weekend notes: being given a beta fish as a gift, which is possibly my worst nightmare of all time, given my hyper-insane fish fear (although, unlike that link suggests, I won't be getting hypnotized for it, just stay away from fish, an easy enough thing since I live on land...); being served turkey that had a bunch of my mother-in-law's finger blood all over the underside of it; and being roped into a discussion about Universal monster movies. Shudders all around. And I am stuck with this goddamned fish, which will probably try and kill me in my sleep!
A little sidenote...watching "60 Minutes" as I type this -- Battle Ready, co-authored by Tom Clancy and General Anthony Zinni! This sounds interesting, and certainly like it is taking on a problem from another angle from someone who should know. I don't know that I would be able to slog through it personally, but still, an interesting thing.
Several more things of note:
a) Mark is weblogging his little rockstar heart out again. Aww. Give him some love! And, thanks to his return, having a LiveJournal is no longer effeminate! Very, very butch now!
b) Holy goodness, TJ and Rye and I are planning a visit to Ye Olde College Town in a few weeks, sort of crashing the reunion in our non-reunion year, just for kicks. And you know, it is way more complicated that I expected! I think we are okay now, so all I have to do is have my awesome hairlady dye my hair and shop for something fabulously chic to wear, but what drama! The up-side is: woo! Girls' weekend!
This weekend started with a bang, finding out that our last best hope to escape this hellhole (Western MA) has gone bust -- let's just say that someone is off our Christmas card list as a consequence -- and went both up- and downhill from there. On the down side, obviously, is the fact that I am stuck in someplace I genuinely loathe for even longer, wasting my life away and having to look at the ugliest, rudest, stupidest people I have ever encountered in my life every time I step outside my apartment door. Also, I had to frog a mitten I was working on and start all over again because I did not read the pattern correctly. On the up side is that the second season of "The Office" really was quite brilliant, as promised, and also, Mr. Pink is still the best person in the world, managing to make the crushing heatbreak of being trapped here against my will somewhat bearable.
La! Off to re-knit and watch Mr. Pink work through his aggressions on the PS2 zombie-shooting game!
Oh my GOD, I think I did something horrible to my back last night while...well, that's just the thing. I have no idea how I did it, except that when I went in to wash my face before going to bed, I could no longer bend at the waist. However I slept on it, it made it a lot worse and now the only comfortable position I can place my body in is being flat on the floor. Jesus! If these painkillers do not kick in, I think I am stuck spending my day very close to the cat fur tumbleweeds. So much for yoga strengthening my back, eh?
Uhm. Happy Friday. I am pleased to report that we do indeed have power at my apartment, despite the previous mini-blackout this afternoon here in Hellhole, MA. Obviously I am quite relieved because, regardless of my stream of constant self-loathing, I really am not ready to die, much less a pitiful freezing-to-death kind of demise after which the cats would eat a hole in my abdomen and hide in my not-yet-frozen corpse for warmth until power was restored. So hurrah for escaping that ugly fate!
I rather like this Jonathan Ames on Henry James bit that Gawker found today. Fab, fab. One time I knew this girl who was convinced her Bridgeture-esque first "novel" (errrrr...) was a modernization of Portrait of a Lady, which made me think that most people -- especially this particular young woman -- haven't really read any of his stuff. And the whole testicle thing sheds new light on it all, I think.
And you know who continues to be goddamned brilliant? Paul Krugman. His op-ed piece today is just awesome. Here's the conclusion of the piece, if you are too lazy to read it (which would be a very deep, committed kind of lazy, I think, because it isn't so long and is totally interesting!):
That doesn't mean that the Democratic candidate has to be a radical — which is a good thing for the party, since all of the candidates are actually quite moderate. In fact, what the party needs is a candidate who inspires the base enough to get out the message that he isn't a radical — and that Mr. Bush is.
Oh yes, punk!
Other: This weekend I am off to shop in Northampton -- I have to exchange some stuff Dan got me for Xmas. In particular, to get a slightly bigger size t-shirt as American Apparel's medium makes me look like I am about to enter a wet t-shirt contest in Cancun over spring break, circa 1988. And that isn't so much a good look for me. Their stuff is the best (and most politically correct!) cotton clothing around, but order a size up, girls! Then it's off to Webs for hott yarny goodness! Wish me happy shopping! Kiss!
Here is a transcript of my conversation with our neighbor in the parking lot this morning, as we were chipping through the inches of ice on our car windshields, or "why I will never have friends up here":
Neighbor: Hey, dontcha just love this weather?
Sarah: Oh yes, it's one of the many things I love about the Berkshires! Between the great weather and the bustling nightlife, I just can't get enough!
Neighbor: Yeah...uhm...so, are you going to watch football this weekend?
Sarah: Oh you bet! I can't wait to see New England get their asses handed to them! Go Titans!
Neighbor: Oh, well. I don't think we have anything else to say to each other.
A little bird told me that another, different little bird is contemplating a move to Wicked Western Massachusetts. While I can't condone such a move, knowing what I know now, I am sort of thrilled at the prospect of perhaps someone to drink beer with at Silent Cal's again now that lovey Erin fled to safer lands.
Also: I am getting a little uncomfortable about the level of intimacy that these gas medication commercials are forcing me into. I mean, it is just a little much for me.
Oh, and I rather like this sweater, don't you think?
And: I have about $60 in credit at the Origins counter. I am not so familiar with their line, outside of the Ginger Essence perfume and lotions. I'm mostly using Kiehl's stuff on my face, but I could use some eye cream and maybe a nighttime moisturizer. Anyone have opinions? Especially about A Perfect World and Night-A-Mins? And I need to replace my current MAC foundation, so what of the Origins line in foundations?
If you guys are going to ignore me and keep eating red meat, don't come crying to me when you end up like poor Charlene. God. Scary.
Monday already. Le sigh. I am already bored of 2004.
I think I forgot to mention how, on Friday morning, Mr. Pink managed to concuss himself on our wall. And you can laugh (as I did) because he isn't really that hurt. Apparently, he was so eager to head out and face the day, he "bounded" (his word) down the stairs and whacked his head against the overhang above the steps. He kept going down the stairs, and then, according to his reenactment for me on Friday evening, he slid down the wall in the hallway and sat on the floor, stunned, for a few minutes before continuing on. I don't know if I am telling this in a very funny way, though. Oh well.
Since Dan-o was all concussy this weekend, we spent a lot of it doing low-key errands and watching football, which is totally okay. I am about halfway through making some really rad fingerless gloves out of hott pink mohair (although a construction mistake on them last night threw me into a fit of hideous rage, and the only thing that could calm me was watching poker on ESPN), so that occupied much of the time. It's nice to sort of hole up in the house from time to time, so all things told, I was very pro-this weekend, Mr. Pink's goose egg notwithstanding.
Oh and! I have been meaning to say. Since I got back from my beloved homeland -- duh, Pittsburgh -- for the holidays, I have heard more national news stories about it than possibly ever before. Of course, not so much because of excellent news coming out of the city. More about, you know, a hideous budget shortfall leading to the city being designated "distressed." Eep. I love the idea, by the way, of the commuter tax for so many reasons (and unshockingly, this puts me at odds with the aforelinked editorial from crazypants Richard Scaife's "news-" paper), so I am following with great interest the other stuff that shakes down.
This morning I was so pissed off about living here. I was scraping several inches of ice and snow off the car actually shouting, "Why! [scrape] Does! [scrape] This! [scrape] Place! [scrape] Suck! [scrape] So! [scrape] Bad! [scrape]" But just when you think your day is shot and the whole thing is just a waste, you have a decent moment or two. I had to go to a very far-flung meeting in Hudson today and driving back through Chatham and whatnot, listening to the radio when "The Man Who Sold the World" (aww, high school!) came on, and the sun was peeking behind the snow clouds just right onto the icy trees...it was nice. If I thought that I could find people I could talk to, maybe I could live in the countryside. It is quite scenic, after all.
Now that I have that sentimentality out of the way. And as I mentioned music, here is something. You know what's really funny? Homophobic rednecks that love Queen. Ooh, and aging dudes who are always going on about how shitty this new commercial punk-pop is, yet they have a ton of Sex Pistols cds, and they totally see no irony in that.