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October 08, 2003 - 10:57 pm

I feel like I need to write. I feel like I need to write for two reasons. First of all, I feel like a lame-o loser face when I don't update but people who never update do. Second of all, if I don't blow a few minutes writing an entry I'd spend those same minutes ravaging the kitchen for food to satiate my voracious hunger not for food but for something to do that doesn't have anything to do with garden shears or shoes and while I'm really workin' this run on sentence can you even believe I just said that I don't want to do anything that involves shoes?

I spent a chunk of this afternoon "winterizing" the garden with Mother (She's a whoreticulturist, you know [and by the way, after saying that yesterday I was hit with the quote "You can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think" by both The Ful and The Kate and I must say, I'd never heard it before but thoroughly enjoyed it]).

I'd like to interrupt this entry to point out the fact that I've really only used a total of 5 sentences thus far.

So, yes. "Winterizing." Sounded like fun when she presented it to me over Coffee Coolatas. Let me tell you, people. If you have a garden? Don't "winterize". "Winterize" is really just a fancy way of saying "clipping." We clipped back that whole fucking backyard. No small feat, people. No small feat.

And then! Speaking of feet! I had to deal with The Shoe Situation today. I'd been putting it off since I moved home but I could do so no longer. Shoes had begun taking over my bedroom. I literally woke up yesterday morning with a black leather Banana Republic loafer tangled in my blanket. The problem was that I don't have closets in my new bedroom because, as I've said, it's actually a dining room. So, while the built-in china cabinets made for fabulous bookshelves, there wasn't much else in the way of storage. After lining them up here and tucking them away there I finally broke down and bought some under-the-bed storage thingies which really saddens me because now they're all hidden under the bed and not out on display where they can be admired by unsuspecting onlookers.

Also, I found some beautiful little baby spinach leaves in the refrigerator this evening that had my name written all over them. To be safe I asked if anyone had purchased them for any special reason, completely confident that the greens would soon find themselves tossed lightly in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I'm sure you can imagine my disappointment when I learned that the beautiful baby spinach leaves belonged to The Boy and Girl. That's right. Mother purchased baby spinach leaves for my dogs. But then I suppose you can't have a proper asparagus frittata without baby spinach leaves. Damn dogs...eat better than I do.

Lastly, if anyone knows what the fuck "Cowboy Up" means, you had better drop me a note somewhere and tell me. First person to do it gets something special. I don't know what, but you just head over to my guestbook and I'll think about your reward.

Ta da

 

 

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