yesterday an out-of-town friend, fp, came to stay for a few days owing to a family emergency. because of all our general laziness busyness, we decided to forego cooking and opted for pizza from our local pizza joint. because i am truly dumb when it comes to spatial imagination (wait! i want to be an urban planner? when i don't know the difference between 12" and 22" ?! let's hope the program is entirely in metric, eh?) i ordered two huuuuge pizzas, enough to feed a multitude.
moi: well, the good thing about a bigger pizza is that there are the middle pieces; you know, not as much... dough? mr. monkey: you mean crust? moi: christ! i'm going to grad school and i can't even remember my own name! fp: your name is crust?
last night we hosted yet another dinner party. this time, in the interests of reducing superfluities in our overloaded social calendar, we hosted two lovely couples which resulted in oft-hoped for social synergy: everyone liked everyone else a whole lot, conversation and laughter flowed as did the wine, and all was good in the world, at least for a night.
some time after the seventh appetizer course and before the main course, my cousin phoned me up to tell me that if i hurried, i could still catch a bit of the eclipse. eclipse! what eclipse!? needless to say, all of us (smart, educated, thinking people one and all, honest to god) grabbed our shoes and ran down five flights of stairs, down the hall and out the door only to find ourselves staring at. . . well, the sun. which, in case you haven't noticed, is rather bright. and hurty. we sheepishly squinted in its general direction for several seconds before dejectedly hiking back to our apartment (we took the stairs! to work off some of the cheese!) having accomplished absolutely sweet fuck-all in the eclipse-observing department.
i blame the alcohol, i really do: what else would cause all six of us to stampede towards an event that even a third grader will tell you ought not be attempted without proper eye protection?
mister monkey was napping on the couch, so i sat in the armchair with my laptop eponymously in my lap, watching fluffy tv with my headphones on so as not to disturb him. the phone rang and, being bloody lazy dedicated to the whole multitasking thing, i picked up my laptop, kept my headphones on, and walked over to where the phone was. on the way, as is my wont, i got tangled up in the ridiculously long headphone cable, tripped, fell forward and smacked myself wholeheartedly in the face with my laptop.
it hurt. i might possibly have a black eye.
and if you think this is just the crazy creative excuse of a woman secretly beaten by her husband, let me remind you of the time i gave myself a black eye when the lunch bag carrying my eco-friendly heavy glass container flew out of my hand as i was unlocking the car door and smacked me in the brow-ridge. it is truly a miracle of epic proportions (as opposed to those regular, economy-size miracles like the weeping virgin mary appearing to orphaned children in various corners of eastern and/or southern europe) that i am still alive.
christ, can i handle grad school!? when i can hardly walk across living room without giving myself a concussion?
1. you, but not if you drive like an idiot and force me to pound on the horn and call you a fucking cunt, since i really resent it when i revert to using the female genitalia as an insult because, we all know, the cunt is a wonderful thing - it brings forth life and pleasure, and is incredibly resilient and flexible, unlike, say, the ballsack which is a much more proper insult but, sadly, does not roll off the tongue in moments of stress.
2. beer at parties. yes. you heard me. i think beer will henceforth be my liquid drug of choice on account of me not liking it that much (oooh! self-contradiction! lack of internal logic! so sue me, motherfuckers!). also, it gives me a nice reliable light high that does not degenerate into memory-loss and incoherence (or so i think) like wine tends to do. and also there's the whole lack of stomach acids burning holes into my esophageal bits. oh wine, i miss you, but i think we ought to just be friends for now.
3. potluck on our mandatory one working saturday a month (incidentally, the ONLY thing i like about our mandatory one working saturday a month). today good boss (as opposed to evil boss who brought fuck all last month) brought pear slices slathered with chevre and crunchy rounds of grilled capicola sprinkled with wonderful mystery herbs.
5. the shy green buds peeking from branches all over. i know, i know, the vast majority of you have already managed to get tired of all the green but here, in the arctic circle, we still know what longing is, since we spend so much of our bloody lives longing for good weather and green and growing things.
6. our condo, which embraces me and makes me happy and calm and all. i also have a beautiful floor, which i never fail to admire as i'm doing the downward dog in my morning sun salutation, because i am a. getting old and decrepit and want to forestall complete fragility and b. an annoying example of those people, you know the ones i mean.
7. chevre with pomegranate-habanero jelly
8. alone time
9. save-on-foods tuxedo cake (i will not tell you how much of a slab i recently ate, but let's just set it down, black on white, for my future self - JUST BECAUSE IT'S 40% OFF DOESN'T MEAN IT HAS NO CALORIES!!! jesus!)
things i don't like:
1. people who drive like idiots (see above).
2. our mandatory one working saturday a month which, if rumours are true, and that's the only thing we seem to be given at work these days - rumours, might be extending to two saturdays a month, because hey, it's summer, and the only thing better than having your weekends off in the summer is working like a fucking mule because your evil boss is a money hungry bastard. still, if they ask me (or, more likely, tell me) to work one more saturday, i'll just drop my grad school bomb on them and tell them they can kiss my posterior regions. booyah!
3. mister monkey's weird disappearing act (8. above notwithstanding) wherein he tells me he'll follow me home and then is gone for an hour to an undisclosed location. i suppose until he starts coming home with track marks, smelling of cheap perfume with lipstick on his underwear i'll just choose to let it go. but if all those things happen, we'll have to have a chat. and a serious one at that.
4. dust bunnies. oh the dust bunnies!
5. beer without a party. it just tastes... i don't know, not like wine?