I will kick your ass
My boss and I are really getting along well. I mean, he's less than ten years my senior, and he's French, and yes I get teased for being over here in his "Psycholinguistics Lab", but this is working out.
Last night I sat at Amelia's with my laptop and we burned cd's off of each other's computers. It was like Christmas.
I got those Elliott Smith albums I'm ashamed for not *owning*.
Time to buy "fitness" shoes and a new CD binder.
Phase one of my work for JM will be done tomorrow. Phase two will be indicative of what he thinks of me after observing me during the first phase.
He bought me some potato chips today.
I have a 3.34 GPA right now. In graduate school. After one year.
Maggie has moved back to Atlanta and hopes to visit me for the Modest Mouse show later this month.
How perfect: Boyz II Men, En Vouge, and Silk are all playing very near here the *next* night after MoMo. It's like a weekend made in heaven.
This is why the MidWest sucks harder than a truckstop-hooker.
My girlfriends gave me a scrap book for my birthday, and it really is the most beautiful thing I've ever received. It's titled "My Life In Bloomington".
Then they took the many digital photos we all take, printed them, and rubber-stamped and penned clever captions.
The front page says,
"Where do you live?""Between the porn shop and the liquor store."
My boyfriend is not a porn-looker and that makes me happy. It's the sort of thing I realized after getting into the relationship, and it's like a bonus.
But I will miss the pornstore activity right outside my front door.
Do you all have any idea how hott I'm going to be after I start working out?
Which reminds me, I saw Almodovar's film Talk to Her and the main character reminded me *so much* of my bartender.
In New York.
The one I threw bourbon at.
I miss that old s.o.b.
