little girls cry, big girls say "fuck"
Or parts of it, anyway, if not the whole thing.
Hell, Mark has been a ray of sunshine in this entire NY gig. He's in the handful of people who is always happy to see me. It's his presence that I like, and not so much anything he's told me about himself. I mean, he still lists Deftones and Nirvana in his top five. Not a "just like me" kind of guy, obviously.
Today he asked me what "else" I do for fun - meaning in addition to musical interests - and I replied, "write".
Am I a dork!
I'm amused that my autopilot refers to writing as the second funnest thing in my life besides listening to music.
"I also drink beer and smoke cigarettes and talk to people," was my hip-redemption. Made me look hip, right? Because I'm hip. Ster. So. Not. Yeah.
I *finally* bought Oh, Inverted World today after having had the whole album downloaded for months. It was the perfect sound for the sunshiny windows-down driving mood I was in.
Last night when Asit was here - having dinner with me and my kids - he got to witness firsthand how delightful these seventh-graders are.
Today I gave the boys a ride out to the bay so they could go tubing behind the boat of one of the fathers, and as they blasted Dr. Dre (and thereby removing my Shins), they asked me if my friend "Acid" was still in town.
Ever been called "acid", Asit? I like that one.
After their tubing I cooked a huge dinner for the whole gang: burgers, hotdogs, and the like.
I grilled like this fella:
The wife says, "oh, honey, why don't you grab yourself a bite to eat and I'll tend the grill?"
"No, dear, that's fine: I enjoy grilling. You go visit with the guests."
That's how I felt, too. Sitting alone, enjoying the enjoyment the kids were having. Sipping a Sprite "remix".
I've had two of those tonight because I'm trying to remember what cocktail it reminds me of. Something I drank while too drunk to remember, obviously.
I haven't been drunk in eleven days. This is good to know I'm not an alcoholic. But I am counting.
Friendster has connected me with over thirty thousand people and I don't even give a damn. I mean, I've taken note of the profiles of all the people I know (most of them are all old college buddies), and a few of their friends, but I haven't "searched the gallery" or anything. Maybe I'm growing up.
Maybe I'm slowing down on my internet social life.
Maybe I've reached a plateau of happiness with my internet relationships and just don't need to branch out further.
Have I told you all about how my Diaryland Boyfriend treats me like solid gold? His compilation is perfection.
So I saw The Italian Job last night and remembered how much Mark Walburgh reminds me of my ex boyfriend (before he (my ex) got fat) and I actually caught myself smiling in fondness.
Like, I was having a fond memory of David. Something about his laugh: with dimples and the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and right eyebrow, his squinty eyes and perfect teeth. It was a memory that didn't make me hate him - though also didn't make me sad he was gone - but maybe for a moment made me glad he once was, at all.
This has never happened before.
Hopefully it is indicative of a new level of maturity which will now position me for falling in love a second time.
Or it could be that I'm just becoming too damn mature for any man I'll ever meet, like this gal:
I'm going to be a bridesmaid next weekend and I haven't got any shoes. This girl the bride, my dearest friend Joy, is my friend because we wrote letters to each other once a week between the ages of 16 and 18.
::sigh::
There's a new Harry Potter book to read!
When I move to Indiana will you all please send me bottles of wine in the mail?
(at first I wrote "wind" instead of "wine" and I almost left it there)
Now go to this button site and buy yourself some fun buttons.
I'm now sporting one that says "cheer up emo kid".
Don't be so dramatic!
