Today I'm way hungover & doing mind-numbingly, eye-stabbingly nightmarish work today. It makes it nicer that tomorrow is my last day. If it weren't for all the eye-stabbing crap to do I might actually be
sad or something.
Blogger has this new navigation bar thingy that allows you to flip from one person's blog to another. On the one hand I like it, because unlike most bloggers I don't surf blogs that much, except for my friends' blogs. But with the nav bar it's really easy to skip around. On the other hand, looking at all these other blogs is giving me a goddamn complex. I found out most people are blogging about politics & art & Paris Hilton & other important stuff like that. Some people are even writing in foreign languages, so they
must be writing about something profound. I finally came across a
blog I was sort of into, because it reminded me of something I might write (there's that narcissistic streak again) & it turns out the blogger was born in
1989. Christ. So I feel sort of guilty about the sort of fluffy, teenage crap I write about. Like for example...
Last nite I went out with Isaac. He called me back after all, but I couldn't be fucked to write about it yesterday. We were off to a terrible start because I was wearing too much perfume & he showed up half an hour late. I was sitting at the bar smelling myself worriedly & joking around with the bartender about how I'd been stood up, when he rushed in somewhat bedraggled & said he'd accidentally fallen asleep. After that we sat on the back porch of the bar & drank vodka & smoked cigarettes & talked. The (bloggable) highlight of the evening was when we found a discarded table on the sidewalk. The base of it was this giant bear on all fours, but upside down, so that it would hold the tabletop with its paws. I guess it was a polar bear, because it was painted white. The top of the table was a huge glass circle. The glass & the bear were not connected anymore but they were both massively heavy. We were only a block from my house & we utterly refused to take two trips. Isaac took the glass bit, which was heavier & more unwieldy than the bear. It was really hard work. He kept telling me to let him know if the bear got too heavy, so we could stop & rest. Instead of doing that, when we were mere paces from my front door, I suddenly dropped it, decapitating it in the process. It was a good thing too, if rather violent for the bear, because Isaac had also dropped the glass top & it now had disturbingly dangerous sharded edges in places & anyway it was sort of a hideous piece of furniture.
I cut myself rather badly sometime during the ordeal but whatever. We poured tequila on it & it got better. Plus I have a pretty white bear's head in my apartment & I had a stellar date.
