Do you know what I hate? Oh, wait. I guess I shoulda told you to hang on to your hat. I hate something. Rare.
I hate it when someone tells their woes, and another person answers back, "That's okay, I [insert whatever thing is worse in that person's stupid life]."
"I have flames licking my body."
"THAT'S okay, I had a flat tire!"
"That's okay." Go fuck yourself. Way to invalidate the other person and make it about you. Jesus.
I had my first hyacinth yesterday. (THAT'S okay, I had a whole bush of lilacs!) It's very exciting and I alerted the president. (THAT'S okay, I'M the president!) (Okay, I'll stop.)
We also, allegedly, had tornadoes whip through the Carolinas, which as a Michigan person was like, eh, and for all the North Carolinians was all MOTHER OF GOD A TORNADO! The good news for me is, a house fell on my sister. Hey, didn't she have on some ruby slippers? Where'd they go? They better not be on any gingham-wearing, sleeping-pill-addled ho.
I had a date last night and he wore the world's fabulousest shirt. He got it at some vintage store, and it has ribs of glitter in it, can you see? Oh my god, it was the best shirt ever. We had a good time, and we never shut up, and I got home late and we're going to the Unitarian service together at the bookstore this weekend. I have always been meaning to go, and he has, too, so now we're going.
I also have a date with a Lenny Kravitz lookalike later this weekend--we think maybe Saturday day. I've been invited to a dinner Saturday night, and he's out of town Friday, and blah blah blah. The point is, Lenny Kravitz. And no, I will NOT take a picture of him for all of you, GOD. Weirdos.
"THAT'S okay, I have a date with Rhett Butler!"
See what I did, there? I said I'd stop but I didn't.
My house is a wreck. I've been out too much, doing too many things, and there's a pile of unfolded laundry on the dining room table; the kitchen floor, which I just washed this weekend, is back covered in muddy dog paws; there are piles of animal fur everywhere I look and the whole thing is making me restless. Tonight we have a department happy hour, and afterward Ima come home and drunk clean. Also, the house smells like dog pee, even though I have pee pads, and that is a concern.
Lu seems in good spirits, still, and can't pee, still, so everything's the same there. The pills are at least keeping her pain at bay, it would seem. The pet photographer and once again he is not my pet, sent me the photos of Lu, and I'm to pick some out for printing and so on.
I don't know when she lost a bottom tooth. I blame her hooves that she loves to gnaw. I love how she's spent her whole life posing as a blog dog, so she's all, wut you want lu to du? she du it.
I will talk at you tomorrow. I hope this whole post was as meaningful for you as it was for me.