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1:31 pm | 01 August 2003 | another bowl of mixed fruit

the part where i relate an amusing family anecdote

From: [my mom]
Sent: Thursday, July 31, 2003 11:38 AM
To: Claude le Monde

Hey Sweetie!

I thought I could scan you the copies - but I can't seem to figure it out. Being a techno incompetent makes me tired and crazy. I have made paper copies.

Love, Mom

Note: My parents do not have a scanner.


the part where i relate an amusing office anecdote

my student worker, herself a transplant from deep-souf Geawgia and self-proclaimed expert on such matters, has been telling stories all morning about some woman who is apparently the most ghetto woman she has ever interacted with. My student worker's impersonations are flawless and hilarious ("Girl! I walk in, and this bitch with a bad weave is all, 'Who you be?'! CLAUdia! You cain't be talkin' like that! That ain't proFESSional!"). The woman's name is apparently, for real, Moseleyne. Yes, like either a feminized "Moses," or "mausoleum" said drunkenly. OH YES.


the part where i share something that, while indeed astronomical,
is not my ass

I done heerd tell that "this month and next, Earth is catching up with Mars, an encounter that will culminate in the closest approach between the two planets in recorded history. The next time Mars may come this close is in 2287. Due to the way Jupiter's gravity tugs on Mars and perturbs its orbit, astronomers can only be certain that Mars has not come this close to Earth in the last 5,000 years but it may be as long as 60,000 years. On August 27, Mars will come within 34,649,589 miles and will be (next to the moon) the brightest object in the night sky."


the part where i fantasize, pointlessly, so pointlessly

I just received two new huge cans of Spray-Mount (not, in fact, an animal husbandry device--is really adhesive in an aerosol can, used for mounting photos, etc.) and my mind is boggled with a seemingly-endless stream of possibility. For example: Could i coat my entire person (clothed, mind you, this is not a ribald blog) in Spray-Mount and then cling to the wall? Of my office? Where I would be undetected by people seeking to annoy me, but would not get in trouble as i was technically "in the office" the whole time? If i (once again, coated in Spray Mount) dart into a bank vault, quickly roll around in money, and then run out, is this the perfect crime? After all, the money would just be stuck to me--couldn't i get off on a technicality, since i wouldn't really be taking it? Hmm.


the part where i have to learn, yet again, the subtle art of getting over myself and my big full-of-it aspirations of grandeur

Yesterday:
Andy: "So, what else is new?"
Me: (excitedly) "I have realized that one of my paths in life is to be sort of a guide to kids, especially girls, who were like me when i was a teenager. you know, help them out."
Andy: "How so?"
Me: "You know, with survival. i tend to kind of mentor these younger girls with suicide ideation & crappy backgrounds who might need help making good choices for themselves."
Andy: "Oh. I thought maybe you meant with nails, hair, makeup, that sort of thing."


an anecdote from Apricot Wensleydale, who will be co-hostessing next week while your belov�d authoress is freaking out across campus (monday-wednesday) & then is on vacation/getting drunk (thursday-saturday)

"Two old man brothers live next door to us and they are always being loud and funny and drunk and grumpy, etc. Anyway one day Dave is in the backyard and sees Sy (the fat, more gruff & grumpy one -- with a total Ed Grimley voice) lean out the back window and start ringing a little dinner bell and he yells:

'Hey all you cats that wanna come take a nap come here now! Come on all you cats -- any of you's that wanna cuddle get in here now, it's time to take a nap!'
and Dave said like three cats came running!!"


the part where i scream incoherently
though in a generally decrescendoing fashion

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.


the part that is not connected to any other part

That there Jeremy Broomfield's got a voice like wet velveteen, especially when telling people not to freak out. No, seriously. He's like one of those fake cops whose job it is to talk jumpers down. And i am the jumper. Except i'm about 30% Arnie Grape on the Endora water tower.* And now? Back to "work." URGH. clm.


*Frequent references to "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" may confuse some members of my audience. My sister and I have a deep personal connection to WEGG (dating from Thanksgiving 1999, wherein I [utterly hammered on Courvoisier, of all things, and even before it was cool again] slurred to her, "I am totally the Gilbert, dude. But i would still love you if you were retarded") and as such refer to it all the time. If you haven't seen it, you're dumb and i hate you. Just kidding. But seriously.


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