Thanks for the shower-curtain-rod advice yesterday. I don't have drywall, I have tile, and the damn thing fell again yesterday. Ned and his engineering degree say that my shower curtain is too heavy, but believe it or not my shower curtain is not beaded and sequined and fur-lined, although it would be if they made such a thing. But now I'm living with just having the liner up, and really they should have some kind of telethon to avert these kinds of tragedies.
But my shower curtain rod is not why I've gathered you all here today. This is.
heeeee! My old friend Hometown Horselady, and who even knows why her parents named her that, sent me this photo of us via the Facebook yesterday. This was exactly 20 years ago, and what's sad about that is in this picture, I'm STILL older than most of the people I work with. I was 28.
That photo was in Denver, where my friend Gertrude and her love of sunflowers had moved, and a bunch of us and my hair descended on her for a weekend. It was a bring-your-own-thigh-highs situation. I am fairly certain I topped off that look with some clunky black Doc Martens. Feminine.
Do you see all her CDs? Those were stolen from that ground-floor apartment, hundreds of them. You can't see them all here, but trust me, hundreds of them. A lot of Cure CDs hit a dirty old blanket somewhere, to be sold for the drugs. Or maybe the person just stole them and rocked out to the Cure.
dust my lemon eyes
with powder pink and sweet
the day I stop
is the you change
and fly away from meeeee
Oh, don't you love the Cure?
I remember that my old boyfriend Michael bought me that dress, which had to be taken off the mannequin because all the dresses hanging up were too large. I'm leaving to kill myself now. Talk to you from the Great Beyond. And by "Great Beyond" I mean Old Pitch and I will chat at you later.
Anyway. Moving back to the present, where my friend Hometown Horselady is still that size and I am featured at the circus. My friend Hometown Horselady runs every day. Every. Day. In Michigan. Where it is often below zero. She just straps on her cold-weather gear and goes. Every day. Did I mention she does that daily? And we are pushing 50? She also rides her horse, which I hear is good exercise but I am too busy inspecting Fritos to know that firsthand.
She also has chickens and two cute dogs and many rescue cats, and in summary, bitch stole my look.
MOVING BACK TO THE PRESENT, last night Ned and I saw the Vivian Maier movie, and you should put down the Fritos and go.
Vivian Maier was a nanny in Chicago for most of her life, and she didn't like to call attention to herself at all. She was forever taking pictures with her box camera, but no one ever saw them. Then she died, alone and sort of crazy, and after her death her stuff was sold and some young guy found them and said, Hey, what do I have here? And the rest is history.
Okay, I'm off. I have to go copy edit things and worry about my shower curtain. And possibly look into a few Fritos.