Extraordinary how difficult it was to leave v. comfy, good-karma filled bed after spending many of weekend hours engaged in pursuit of doing absolutely nothing. Is price one pays for such time well-spent, suppose. Is also extraordinary how galpal and self can pass hours in said nothingness and have absolutely fabulous time doing so. Do regret, however, massive amounts of food consumed.
Evening with gal pal and Complete Strangers clearly successful as well and do wish that I lived much closer to the City as would make such wonderful playmates. Is not often a girl meets the Voice of Barbie, or boy so unfortunate as to have not been given a last name, must say. Many interesting conversations, but one of note:
Gal Pal: So, do you write things for Talking Ken, too?
Voice of Barbie: Not really. It's 99% Barbie.
H: See, that's because Ken is really not necessary. I mean, most girls have something like one Ken and thirty-five Barbies. Ken's good for taking Barbie to the ball, driving her around in the Barbie Dream Car and the occasional wedding scenario, but really, Barbie doesn't need Ken.
GP: Barbie doesn't need Ken, huh? Interesting.....
VOB: I'm staying out of this...
H: Not fair. I didn't mean... Ack. I'm just not Barbie. She's plastic! God. must... drink...more.
Note about boy on bus this morning: Was, in most ways, unremarkable excepting two things: v. nice suit and wonderful dimples. Said dimples seemed to beg, in mid-western corn-fed, down-home bred way, to be taken home and fed fried chicken and potatoes. If run into suited stranger again, will be tempted to do just that. Jell-o for dessert.
Dear Murphy,
Am aware that we are not on best of terms this morning, but come seeking favor. Could you, perhaps, revise your incredibly cruel law of inevitablility just for today? Yes, am aware that I taunted you this morning when said things were going v. well and quite nicely ahead of schedule. But this is a forty-million dollar guffaw you just (in the form of some Lenny-like half-wit from office) handed me. And I don't know about you, but I am not worth that forty million, as charming as I may be. Forty million dollars. You see? And if you'd like to not make this a matter of money, must you be told said DISASTER is the biggest project that has been entrusted to yours truly, and that You and Your Law have put your sticky hands in? I have 5 hours, Mr. Murphy. FIVE hours to get this fixed. A revision of Your Law, or revocation (even better) would be much appreciated.
Regards,
Fucked Fish
Posted by This Fish at September 23, 2002 10:44 AM