Barney's Loft 1, Hey Pretty 1

Don't ask me why, but today I thought it might be fun to spend a month's worth of grocery money on a new outfit.* Of course, the most logical location to acheive this feat would be at Barney's Coop up in Friendship Heights. I was up there anyway, stalking the J Crew there for wool cable knit sweaters (for days when I feel like a preppy girl). J Crew was a disapointment, but I did leave with a lovely tortishell hairband. Anyhoo, Barneys. I wasn't seeing much until I stumbled upon the most be-yoot-i-ful inky blue silk top. Long, three-quarter length sleeves, v-neck, something to be worn both to work and out on the town. Something totally stylie yet versitile, and more importantly, something that I would look 100 percent gorgeous in. In other words, I was willing to overlook the price tag, to eat Ramen for a month, because I HAD to have it, and this happens rarely with me and inanimate objects. I see the sizes on the rack--a couple "Ps" (code for even smaller than small) and one lonely medium. I grabbed it, as that is my typical size. In the fitting room I discover that my prize is slightly to small. It fits okay, but not well enough to justify the cost. I decide to swallow my pride and see if there's a large. But there isn't. I inquire with the saleswoman.

"Actually, that top doesn't come any larger than a medium."

Say what?

It's not that it's out of stock, it's that the designer made a decision at some poing to not make a shirt larger than an 8/10. And that's an 8/10 in swanky trendy clothing which is runs smaller than your typical BR, Gap, sizes.

Sigh.

My self esteem was prepared to take a nose dive, but for some reason it did not. Isn't that a great sign of maturity on my part, that I didn't let a silly inanimate object determine my level of happieness? I think so. Afterall, self esteem plummeting is a power reserved for boys, bosses, and surley waitresses (okay, not really).

So. I returned to my 'hood, remembering that I needed new shoes and that Carbon recently opened a new branch near the Metro. And what did I find there? First of all, the owner was his usual chatty self, although after buying four pairs of shoes at his U Street store, it might be nice if he could manage to remember me. But what ev, he was as charming as always. And more importantly, I snagged a pair of knee high boots (black) with a lovely round toe, a heel of managable height (I'm very accident prone and can't be trusted with anything higher than 2 inches), that lace all the way up the front. Funkier than I might have liked, but so versitile I couldn't pass them up.

So. I didn't get the top. But the boots I will wear every day until April and then some next year. Not a total loss afterall.

*The reason is this--I just returned from several days with my mom. Although Mama HP was a hippy in her younger years, her tastes have returned to their ultra-refined origins, and subsequently, vacay at Chez Mama HP is a bit more luxerious than what I am used to in my normal life. Therefore, I often forget that I'm actually a little poor whenever I get back from hanging out with her. A few days of living off of whole wheat toast of hummus usually snaps me back to reality real quick.

And since, I am rambling, I will report that I just returned home from a fabu birthday dinner honoring Ames, one of my oldest friends. And her friends are equally fabulous. And how grown-up did I feel, returning home at 10:00 rather than staying out all late and getting silly trashed (I still like that of course, but sometimes a not-so-late-night is refreshing).

In Valerie123 style, I am taking comments. Specific ones. Tell me something--your latest shopping related humiliation, or something you always need to adjust to whenever you come home from visiting your parents.

And I'm sorry, but I'm slightly tipsy as I type this, and really don't care to spell check right now. So there.

Boston Bound

I'm jetting off to Bahs-ton tomorrow and won't be posting for a few days. I'm sure I'll have all sorts of fun mom-inspired tales to regal ya'll with when I return. That you will surely await with baited breath. In the meantime, have a safe holiday, whatever your celebration of choice is. And remember, do as I say, never as I do.

I Wasn't Supposed to Be Here Today

But I am, in order to coordinate client review and subsequent edits on my big important project. Not to go into great detail, but I am creating a bunch of fact sheets, and they are so CUTE. My graphics people have done the best job creating visuals for topics that aren't normally very sexy or compelling. I had sent them to my client for comment and this morning we got to discuss them over the phone. My client cracks me up to no end. He's the biggest misanthrope on the planet. Whereas others might roll their eyes at his constant negativity, I find it incredibly funny. Probably because I sometimes wish I could skirt social convention to be that big of a pain in the ass too (oh wait, I sometimes do). Here are some excerpts from our conversation.

Me: Hi it's [HP] from [place of work].
Client: (flatly) Oh, great. I thought it would be you.

Isn't that delightful? Most people would probably counter with something annoying like "Good morning, how are you?" But since the words "good morning" make me wince (I'm serious--I hate mornings more than you could possibly know), this alternative was so different that it actually shocked me a bit. I was too stunned to be offended.

We exchange unpleasantries for a bit. He's aghast that I still have a cold. I'm annoyed he has issues with the color scheme of the fact sheets. He claims to have a "ton" of edits for me, but in reality he just wants to point out some inconsistent capitalizations--the kind of edits I learned to be conscious of when I was an intern, and that I was honestly too lazy to catch myself. I promise to be more attentive in the future. He complains that he's supposed to be on vacation, not checking fact sheet content. I don't have the heart to tell him that I too am supposed to be on vacation, not confined to my cube, trading verbal spars with a grumpy old man. I mutter something appeasing.

Not reacting to him in the knee-jerk slightly bitchy manner that naturally emerges whenever I am forced to deal with a difficult personality is a challenge. He basically says what I wish I could say, but have been socialized to repress. On the one hand I think it's kind of awesome. On the other, he's my client and I have to be nice to him. I wish he wasn't my client so we could throw back some beers and trade insults. My mother would be horrified.

He asks when the rest of the content will be ready. I tell him later today. He says we can talk again tomorrow morning.

Me: Yes, why don't we plan to chat again tomorrow at this time?
Client: I'm really looking forward to talking to you again tomorrow.
Me: Me too, it will be the high point of my day.
Client: No really, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's conversation.
Me: Me too. No really, it'll be great.

And then I hung up and laughed hysterically for a good minute--the kind of loud, prolonged belly laugh that expresses both relief and amusement. My boss actually came over to see if I was okay. Another coworker who sits two cubes over came by to tell me that was that funniest conversation he's overheard in a long time. I'm sure that the rest of my team, who I know sometimes take issue with my talent for bluntly expressing myself (yes, I am working on it) are secretly amused by our dynamic. I am after all, the one who is constantly defending said client because in a way I think that explaining his misanthropy may explain my own.

In other news, I have not had a cigarette since yesterday at 7:00 pm. That is roughly four cigarettes that I have not smoked. I have saved a dollar. The biggest challenge with not smoking (at least in my opinion) is coming up with things to do instead. Like, what do I do after lunch? I used to go outside and smoke. Today I returned to my cube and ate an apple. Then I amused myself by looking up pictures of lungs effected by emphysema. Gross.

In further other news, I am a big dork. People say you shouldn't hookup with coworkers because it's unprofessional. It's also a problem because sometimes you see them and kind of want to kiss them and you can't because other people are around. So instead you act like a total dork and spew all sorts of word vomit. Not that this has ever happened to me, but I imagine it's what it would be like if I had.

And finally, in other other news, one of my female coworkers just commented that I have lost weight. I thought I had, but I wasn't sure since I refuse to own a scale. I have simply been going by the fact that my jeans seem a little loose. But then I thought that maybe I had been whishing to lose weight so much that maybe I just hallucinated my jeans hanging off of my hips. In case you were wondering how I accomplished this feat, I will tell you: less beer. less fat. Kickball being over for the season helped a lot too. Kickball seems to make me fat.

So to recap: my client is a pain, I am lost without cigarettes, I am certainly not lusting after an inappropriate person and self depravation=skinniness.

Attitude Check

As I was saying earlier, I was not at all in the mood for the holiday season. Although I am still not feeling that festive in regards to Christmas, my attitude towards New Year's Eve just lightened a bit. For weeks I've been seeing these ads on TV for the Behnaz Sarafpour line at Target. Perhaps you've seen them too--models in cute girlie mini-dresses with poufy skirts and strapless tops gallivanting around New York City enroute to some place fabulous. I've been secretly lusting over them despite myself, partially because they're the sort of outfits I never wear. My sorted history with self image and body issues normally paralyzes me when it comes to thinking in a fashion-forward frame of mind. I have great style but I never exercise it because I always thing "why bother wearing something funky and cool? It would look so much more ravishing on a skinny girl."

Well that's certainly no way to live, now is it?

So I was IMing with L, and we were discussing clothing as we tend to do because she has fabulous clothes and we share similar style mentalities (although she actually puts her ideas into practice, whereas I normally just wear jeans and a sweater), and I was suddenly inspired to buy something frothy and fun and girly and fabulous for New Year's Eve. And then I remembered the Behnaz line, so I hopped over to Target.com and discovered a lovely purple strapless number with a short poufy skirt and I immediately bought it. It was only 36 dollars, so why not? I normally run in the other direction of strapless frocks, convinced that my imperfect form would look wrong in them. But for 36 dollars, it's okay to experiment, right? A few clicks later, it was purchased, and my attitude towards New Year's Eve festivities has changed remarkably. Now the proud owner of a totally impractical, ultra-femme frock, I almost can't wait to get down to some pre-2007 fun. In a sense, I feel like this dress is a good metaphor for the night itself--fleeting, carefree, and not something to be taken overly seriously in any way, shape, or form. So different from my usual serious-cynical self.

Even better, I told a friend at work about it, and she proceeded to invite me to a dinner party! Now I have yet another option for the night. Regardless of what I end up doing, I will be all dressed up with some place to go.

Ho, Ho, Hum

I hate to say it, but I'm having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit this year. I'm not a grinch mind you, but I'm having a hard time feeling festive. Perhaps it's the 65 degree weather and the fact that I am schvitzing through my Agnes B. So far I have participated in many of the requisite holiday activities--parties, listening to seasonal music, eating a cookie (I don't really like cookies that much but I thought it would help. It didn't), emptying out my checking account by buying a ton of gifts. So, I don't know what's wrong with me, but it feels nothing like Christmas. If somebody told me that Memorial Day was almost here, I'd probably believe them.

Now is the time of the year when people are also making New Year's Eve plans. That too, I am feeling apathetic about. Part of me is tempted to blow-off amateur night altogether and hide in my house with a bottle of wine and a stack of Netflix. But that feels too antisocial, so I probably won't do that. I have a couple other options, which are being carefully weighed. Hopefully this year I will avoid the curse that loves to plague me on this holiday. That is, I go to several parties (all dressed up), drink a lot, and makeout with random boys. One of them somehow gets my number, calls three days later, and we go out on the most unremarkable date ever. And then my annual winter dry spell commences.

And of course there are the resolutions. This year, I am boycotting resolutions because they always seem somewhat hollow when it comes time to implement them. Sure it would be great to learn Swahili, lose 10 pounds and run a marathon, but I don't need that kind of pressure. Instead, in the spirit of personal growth and betterment, I am going to set year-long "goals." I stopped having goals sometime after high school and I don't think that my slacker mentality is really serving me all that well anymore. It's time to get serious and be a grownup. So far, my goals for 2007 are:

1.) Be promoted to manager in my job. It's time. I'm a smart girl and I've been at the marketing/communications work for a while. In fact, it's slightly embarrassing that I am a mere "senior associate."

Once this goal has been attained, I can then...

2.) Move into a "grownup" apartment. By this I mean, one that I do not share with four other people, where I can use my good plates and my heirloom silver; that perhaps even has a piece or two or nice (non-Ikea) furniture. Even if it's just one room.


3.) Diversify my social circle and spend more times with the friends I have who I tend to neglect. Realizing that my current social life is making me miserable for various reasons, I need to branch out. Making friends is hard, but it's time to expand the social horizons a bit. It's funny what with everyone settling down into marriage and long-term relationships that my primary concern is making friends, but that's how I'm rolling these days. Sure, a boyfriend might be nice, but not so that I can spend all my spare time with him. I did that a few years ago and had no social life to show for it when we (inevitably) broke up. So, yeah. More friends.

4.) Drink less. Perhaps not drink with less frequency, but drink less when drinking. Fewer shots. Less cheap whisky. Fewer hangovers.


I think that's it. Those seem like nice sensible goals to me, don'tcha agree?

Plugging Along, Just Another Friday Here in Melrose Place

First, thanks to Wonkette and Readexpress for the respective shout-outs yesterday. As an aspiring culture-writer, recognition from the big kids is extremely gratifying.

Second, EJ loves to compare my work environment to Melrose Place. I try to make it a rule to not blog about work in too much detail. The risks are far to great for the fleeting satisfaction that it may provide. Thus, those of you who don't actually know me in real life aren't privy to the salaciousness that surrounds me on a daily basis here in the land of the 9 to 5. So I'll just say that my day has consisted of doing not only my work, but that of the team sycophant, who cleverly came up with a project idea and managed to shift all the work to me. Thanks dude. Between that and dodging the bullets of idle water-cooler gossip, today has been quite an experience. I'm pretty sure this is why the baby Jesus invented weekends.

Smoke Free DC=Smoke Free Me?

As of January 2, I will no longer be allowed to spark up a cancer stick in a bar in DC. At least not legally. I lived in San Francisco when the smoking ban went into effect in California, and I recall that certain bars ignored the ban. You just had to know the right lingo. For example, at many bars, if you asked for an ashtray, they would present you one from under the counter and you'd be allowed to puff away to your heart's content.

But something tells me that in a city run by former student council presidents, such trangressive behavior will probably be quashed pretty quickly.

I know it's terrible to admit this, but I really love to smoke. Please spare me the lecture about the health risks involved, the fact that my breath is sometimes not as fresh as it could be, the fact that I inconsiderately pollute the air for others. I know, I get it, and I feel awful about all of those things, really I do. More than you could possibly know, in fact. But still, smoking is fun. It feels good. If it had no merits at all nobody would do it. It kills me when I see anti-smoking ads that ask what the point of the habit is. It's pleasurable, duh.

Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I'm a chimney or anything. On the average day, I probably smoke about 6 cancer sticks. More when I'm drinking of course. But I have never been a pack-a-day smoker with the exception of finals period in college and during one or two really terrible breakups. But mostly I keep it limited to a couple during the day and a few at night.

But with the ban on smoking taking effect in DC bars, the places where I would be allowed to light up have dwindled to nothingness. I can't smoke at home (unless it's outside). I can't smoke at work (unless it's outside). I can't smoke at the places where I socialize (unless it's outside). With fewer and fewer options available for lighting up, the point of doing so is dwindling. Moreover, why continue to engage in an activity that is being banned in more and more places? Isn't the fact that nobody wants to be around it a good indication of the fact that you should quit?

So once again, it's something I am considering. Studies show that smokers who quit do so more successfully when they are fully committed to stopping. The problem is that I'm not. I know I should, and the sensible side of me wants to. In fact, the sensible side of me proclaimed a moratorium on the habit come by 30th birthday. That was a month ago, and yet I continue. The irresponsible side of me, the one that sometimes drinks too much, kisses the wrong boys, and is late for work, is having a hard time silencing herself. She has such a strong will, that one.

I find this dichotomy so emblematic of where I am in life right now--stuck on this precipice between tired, outdated immature, self centered behavior, and the carrying out the actions of a wise, thoughtful adult who truly has learned from the mistakes of her younger years. Wanting to move forward, but so often forgetting.

I'm curious to hear from others who may be in a similar situation and would even like to formalize the topic by writing an article about it. Consider this an open call: DC smokers who would be interested in being interviewed for an article, please contact me: hey_prettyblog@yahoo.com

Best Horoscope Ever?

Enjoy, fellow Scorps!

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Scorpio actor Leonardo DiCaprio is not a big
fan of locking lips. "When you think about it, kissing is pretty
disgusting," he told Britain's *Eva* magazine. "The human mouth is one of the
dirtiest things on this planet. There's so much bacteria, slime, and trapped
food." I hope that you will not only ignore DiCaprio's opinion in the coming
months, but that you will launch a campaign to increase your commitment to kissing and all related pursuits. In my opinion, the potentials inherent in 2007 should inspire you to raise your mastery of the oral arts to a very high level. And it starts now.


Seeing as how much of a kissing whore I've been recently, this is excellent news, although the term "oral arts" creeps me out.

How Would You Spend It?

I have recently been fortunate in that I have come into a small amount of wealth. Nothing major mind you. I won't be purchasing a condo or a boat or even a new pair of winter boots (desperately needed, btw) any time soon. No, instead I have amassed a nice little quantity of iTunes gift cards. This is exciting, as I love music. Unfortunately, I am always a step behind everyone else in identifying the interesting new bands to listen to.

My taste is as eclectic as any other typical music appreciator's. I enjoy classic rock (Elvis; Beach Boys during their Pet Sounds era; Rolling Stones; Pink Floyd; the Beatles), Jazz (Miles Davis; Oscar Peterson; the Dizz; Chet Baker; Coleman Hawkins; Theolious Monk), Glam/New Wave/Punk/80's (Blondie; the Ramones; Talking Heads; David Bowie; the Cure) Brit Pop (My Bloody Valentine; Blur; Stone Roses and all those groups that sound just like them); Indie (the Shins; The Wrens; Spoon; Camera Obscura; Ted Leo etc); Pop Alternative (The Strokes; Franz F; the Killers; Snow Patrol in VERY small doses); Chick Music (Ani; Liz; Sarah M); Alt Country (Neko; Lucinda; Ryan Adams; Wilco); Old School Country (Willie, Dollie, Patsy) and of course, all the music I learned to like in college when surrounded by music snobs (Slint; Sonic Youth; Tortious; anything else somehow associated with Steve Albini). For some reason though, it simply never occurs to me to read music publications or websites, so I never know what new bands are out there that I might like, or what already established acts have a new album out. I feel constantly and hopelessly behind the new music curve.

So today I am going to throw a hypothetical out there. Let's say you had taste in music similar to mine, what three albums would you buy? I should note that last night I purchased an album by Calfone (their newest) and the new Decemberists. I am also considering the Hold Steady, the Racontuers, and now that Jason reminded me of them, Dismemberment Plan (I have one album and like it but always seem to forget about it). I already nixed Joanna Newsom, Snow Patrol and Bloc Party, and I seriously cannot get into Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Suffice to say, I like tunes that rock, and I'm especially digging those that have a slight Bluegrass twang. But even that's not even a requirement.

What say you?

Ps: Sorry for the rampant punctuation errors. Yes, I am aware of my semi-colon misusage. I just don't care enough about language machanics today to go back and self-edit.

Update! Okay, so in addition to Califone (not Calfone) and the Decemberists, I have downloaded The Hold Steady and the Raconteurs. In fact, they're downloading as I type this. I still have some credits left, so I'll reassess tomorrow. EJ, Old Crowe is sounding really good. And yes, we did discuss this at Townhouse a couple weeks ago. Your suggestions are still under advisement. Ray L, I already own, but it was a great suggestions. I also just realized there's a Wren's that *gasp* I do not own. Thumbs up/down? And finally, Musical Guru--I burned all four disks of Nuggets for my mom for Christmas. Thanks again for burning that for me.

Weirdness

So a lot of weird things have been happening lately. But the weirdest development of all is this: I received an Evite to an event where I do not know the host, nor do I know anyone else who was invited. I have zero idea how I ended up on the invitation list. Random things happen to me all the time, but this development takes the cake.

What should I do?

Tag! You're Weird!

Home is very ordinary
I know I was born to lead a double life
A murderous strife and misery
And when I find it, I know I'll make sense of me


Ms. Candy Sandwich has called upon me to share with you, dear readers, 6 ways in which I am strange. Of course, everyone is strange. I remember the moment I realized that and how happy it made me, and how my self confidence immediately skyrocketed. Sure, some people are strange in a wear all black, pierce their faces and listen to depressing music kind of way. That used to be me in fact, so I can totally relate. Others are strange in the sense that behind their mainstream appearances and demeanors lie complete miscreants dedicated to worshipping at the alter of all sorts of freaky and transgressive behavior. And others are weird because in seeming so damned normal, there must be something seriously fucked up about them.

As for me, well hell, I've always been quirky. I've experienced my entire life slightly beyond the fray. My 20's taught me social skills, but I'm still a bit shy and insecure around strangers. When your personality naturally predisposes you to a talent for appreciating the world through a slightly different perspective, you better damn well get used to feeling a little different and making peace with it. Due to this tendency, I tend to sympathize with underdogs and outcasts. I see the good in people even when they're behaving like complete douchebags. Of course, this gets me into trouble as well.

But I digress...I am strange (and fabulously so) because...

1.) I was born in a car and yet I am terrified of driving. Yes, it's true. Long story short, I was born in the back seat of a station wagon in Vermont, in the middle of a snow storm. My parents immediately wrapped me in an antique quilt covered with cat fur and drove me to the hospital. The fact that there were no birth complications is a miracle. I am, and have always been one of the healthiest people I know (knock on wood). And yet, when it comes to piloting a car, I am a total spaz. The theory within our family is that most of this fear stems from the fact that I was hit by a car when I was 13. I was knocked out and suffered a concussion and some sprains but nothing critical. However, the experience did instill in me a hyper- awareness of the ability of moving vehicles to inflict serious damage. I didn't get my drivers license until I was 23, and although I drove for a couple of years, it always freaked me out. When I moved into DC from Alexandria, I sold my little Toyota and haven't been behind the wheel of a car in at least three years.

2.) I am extremely loyal and hold others to the same degree of loyalty. This too gets me into trouble. Holding people to a moral issue that you over-value is never good, and I am totally guilty of it. My theory is that because it takes me a while to warm up to most people, that extra emotional hurdle that I have to clear in befriending people really means a lot to me. Once I've taken a liking to somebody, they're my friend for life and I'll go to ridiculous ends to help or defend them. So of course I expect the same, and it often frustrates me when friends don't give back the same amount of loyalty that I give to them.

3.) I have zero system for maintaining organization within my own life, but have a terrific flare for creating order for other people. Case in point, yesterday my roommate was freaked because he's going oversees for two weeks and has too much to take care of in the mean time. I immediately helped him identify several organizational strategies for tackling what needs to be done in the next week while keeping track of what he needs to do once he lands at his destination. This is ironic, because I am constantly losing things, and nothing I own has an official "place" except for my jewelry (I own a lot of it and it's all really nice) and my cashmere sweaters (ditto). My room is a jungle of piles. Objects disappear only to magically resurface several months later. When I lose something, it can probably be found in one of the six handbags that I regularly alternate between. I have the shortest attention span ever, and although I regularly come up with brilliant ideas, I almost always forget them or lose interest in them several minutes later.

4.) I am very time-conscious and have a system for visualizing it. I never wear a watch, but I pretty much always know what time it is. I hate being late, and I very much dislike being kept waiting by others who are less punctual. But even weirder, is the fact that I "see" time. For instance, the day is represented in my head with a traditional analog clock, shaded with a spectrum of colors. 4:00 is green. I don't know why, that's simply the way it's been since I learned how to tell time. For ages I thought that everyone perceived time in this way as well, and was disappointed to learn that not everyone thinks that 4:00 is green, 6:00 is pink, 8:00 is purple. But I do, and I think it's pretty neat. On a similar vein, loud noises cause me to feel physical pain that resonates beyond my ears.

5.) I am hyper-aware of physical spaces and how they affect the psyche. I am convinced that space affects our emotional well-being in ways that we might not be able to articulate, but nonetheless experience at a very basic level. As a result of this, I can't stand sitting with my back towards any sort of foot traffic, and sometimes certain spaces feel weird to me in a way that I can't quite articulate. I am also obsessed with furniture arrangements and will often sit in a room for hours rearranging furniture in my head to achieve what I believe to be the best practical use of space, balance of positive and negative space, and best channels for energy flow. And no, I do not believe in feng shui or whatever.


Hmm, only one more.

6.) I hate down-escalators. The fact that they're steeper than stairs, and the way the lines on them blur together after a while to disorient you make for a freaky experience when the Woodley Park escalator is broken and one must walk down it. Many a panic attack has ensued as a result of this scenario.

Strangely, that wasn't so hard to narrow down. But now it's time to spread the love. Now tagging EJ, Ryane, Seriously Awkward, and Musical Guru to spill it. Your assignment? Six fabulous quirks that make you a freak show. Ready, set, go...! (Panther, you're also encouraged to participate, although that would mean updating your blog, nudge nudge.) And of course, anyone else who wants to tell all, please do. The more the merrier.

It's All In Your Head

Today my head feels as if it were stuffed with cotton. My hearing is muted and my temples ache.

Last night, I took some allergy medicine and fell asleep at 8:30. Then I woke up at 3:00 am and was awake for the next 3 hours.

I suppose it's just as well that I can't find the symptoms of avian flue on this website, or else I'd be convinced that I had it. After getting all scientific and googling my symptoms*, it appears that I have a "head cold." This is a far cheerier prognosis from the other times I have done so only to be told by the internet that I have feline leukemia.

I do however, intend to go totally Flat Stanley on this ailment of mine.

Water? Check.
Vitamin C? Check.
Spicy food for lunch? Check.
Nicotine lozenges to replace the cigs with? Check.

I am also wearing a hat and scarf inside. Between my fly accessories and my cashmere sweater set, I am all warm and toasty.

Look out germs, I'm coming for you.

*Shut up, you've done it too.

Jane Austen Be Damned....

This weekend a certain truism became abundantly even more clear to HP. That is, if I say I'm not, under any circumstance, ever, ever, ever going to do something, chances are, my arm can probably be twisted into doing it. This is especially true if the twister is tall, with an excellent head of hair, a marble-smooth swimmer's bod and a stoned-out I-don't-give-a-shite-addititude.

Le sigh.

My intentions were good. In fact, I had even planned on taking a stand. As in, no you can't simply expect me to roll over whenever you want me to, I have some power in this arrangement as well, and I intend on exercising it. But let's be honest here. A reaction of that magnitude (no way, am I going home with him, if he thinks I am he has something else coming for him, it's my way or the highway, etc) is usually ignited by something strong, emotional or otherwise. In this case it was the otherwise. A very persuasive otherwise, to be sure. Why is it that the best chemistry can often be had with people we otherwise (as in, when the sun is up and we're wearing clothing) have little interest in? And why is it always so damned worth it?

In other news, I finished Lunar Park. The last hundred pages breezed by in no time. In fact, I barely noticed that I was on the last page until I got to the end and had to re-read the last paragraph to grasp the narrative's conclusion. Honestly, my lust for the novel cooled to a warm fondness as the chapters went by. However novel its original conceits--self reference, Ellis' ironic take on his own infamy--the plot itself was not quite compelling enough to stand on its own merits. And the ending was a bit abrupt and unsatisfying. But in the end, I'm glad I read it and would still recommend it to anyone considering it's worth as a temporary diversion.

On to The Washington Story...