You are about to embark on a wonderful journey!
Clean bill of health from Health Services, found a ride to Springfield tomorrow, chocolate chip cookies and a trip to New York. This is going to be good.
Clean bill of health from Health Services, found a ride to Springfield tomorrow, chocolate chip cookies and a trip to New York. This is going to be good.
Nina and I saw a shop downtown with this sign in the window:
I had a really nice weekend. On Saturday, Leah and I had our radio show, which was really fun- we had a sort of spur-of-the-moment New Wave theme, so we played Blondie and the Eurythmics and Television and some other stuff like that. Saturday night we went to a party at Hopkins (my Dream House), where we ate tortilla chips and played Scrabble with Stina and Clio. Stina's friend is really into human rights activism and although she's from New York, she's actually friends with several people I knew in my anti-sweatshop days in high school. It's a small world, and I love being reminded of that.
Going through a box of mementos from last year, I came upon the following list:
Leah stopped by last night after the pineapple incident. "Thank you for the pineapple," I said, smiling.
I just found a small wax paper bag of pineapple stuck to a nail on the doorframe right below my name tag. I ate it- still cool, whatever that means. I hope I was supposed to- I hope it wasn't somebody else's pineapple they'd stuck to my door for safekeeping. Who could have left it there? It doesn't seem like Leah's style to leave it without telling me, or at least leaving a note on my board, but that's who seems the most likely.
Yesterday at the daycare center, Iris had a very fancy doll dressed up in a long red velvet gown and bonnet.
Near the top of my list of Annoying Verbal Activities are baby talk and referring to oneself in the third person. These two egregious sins are often committed by the same people, who feel they must make the method of delivery interesting in lieu of having anything to say. They also tend to speak extremely loudly, as though projecting from a stage, because they think that's exactly what they're doing.
...When you discover you've been working from an abridged version of the Tractatus and you go to the bookstore to buy a new one and even though it's paperback it's still seventeen dollars and you use the money your great aunt sent you to buy it and then you have no money left for laundry and you're wearing your last clean pair of underwear?