Thursday, July 31, 2003
Yesterday as I was driving around doing errands, I saw a gray-haired older woman, maybe in her 70s, riding around on a mint green and white Vespa. She had a big smile on her face, which may have been because of something she was thinking about, but I'm guessing it was because it was a nice day out and she was on a cool little Italian scooter. I watched her ride by and realized that I probably just saw myself at 70.
Today I made a blueberry pie and shared it with all of my neighbors. It came out surprisingly well -- some even called it fantastic -- and now I am thinking that if this writing/video/teaching/music thing doesn't work out, I could maybe open a little pie shop and make pies all day. People like pie.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
When I got home, I realized that I was sitting with the sun to one side of me, so one half of my body is a little sunburned. It looks a little funny, but I don't burn too badly, and I figure it will fade in a day or two. And after seeing all the signs for fresh blueberries on the ride back, I now want to go make a blueberry pie.
Sunday, July 27, 2003
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Okay, I'm a little drunk right now. Not too horrible, but a few glasses of wine's worth. Nice.
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Tonight, like last Tuesday night, I watched Queer Eye for the Straight Guy on Bravo, and I seriously think it's my new favorite show. If you haven't seen it, here's a quick synopsis: the producers find some schlep of a straight guy who can't dress right or decorate his house well or pick a good haircut or a good bottle of wine, and then these five gay guys descend on him and make his home look less dorm-y, fix his hair, get him some non-ugly clothes, and teach him how to prepare an impressive meal so the woman in his life will find him more attractive. It seems simple enough, but I swear it's the funniest thing on tv. I especially like Carson, the gay fashion expert, because he is so superduper fabulous. I want him to come to my house and take me shopping and pick out some cool new clothes for me. And I want the other guys to come along too, so I can get a spiffy new haircut and a fun new couch and learn how to properly prepare and serve foie gras. And they'd take me to a day spa to get me all properly exfoliated, and they'd paint my walls all kinds of vibrant colors, and together we'd clean out my closets. Frankly, I think that all of this attention may be wasted on straight guys, because I think that everything the Fab Five (which is what the gay troupe is called) teaches them will be forgotten in one week tops. I think that the producers of this show need to make a spin-off: Queer Eye for the Straight Gal Who Just Wants to Hang Out With Some Cool Men Who Aren't Ruled by Testosterone Alone and Be Treated Like a Queen (But Not That Kind of Queen).
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
I'm off to Pittsburgh tomorrow to work on my summer project. I've never been to Pittsburgh, but at least three people who I've told about my trip all immediately let me know that in Pittsburgh, the plural for "you" is "yuns" (or "yins," but I think that's just differences in the accents of the people who told me this). Isn't that place known for anything else? I'll try to find out, but I'll mostly be hanging out with people who collect dishes. I'm not sure that they're the party type, but you never know.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Wednesday, July 9, 2003
Tuesday, July 8, 2003
The highlight of the weekend (aside from seeing my family, of course -- hi mom!) was going to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field and watching a great game that went down to the last out. Wrigley is cool in that it's so old and not centered around selling overpriced burgers or getting you to pay five bucks for a ride on a ferris wheel behind centerfield. It's built for watching baseball, and I don't think there's a bad seat in the place. There are even good seats outside the stadium; there are bleacher-type seats on top of the buildings that overlook the outfield, so you can see the whole game without actually being in the park. Anyway, I've been to games at several different ballparks, but now I can say I've been to the big three, those being Yankee Stadium, Fenway Park, and Wrigley. Yeah, Shea Stadium isn't any great shakes, but go Mets anyway.
Thursday, July 3, 2003
So Amy, how are things?
Yes, that landlord incident is quite unfortunate. How does that make you feel?
(Laughing) You sound like you're talking about an ex-girlfriend.
Right. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, right. We were talking about you. How are things?
So I did. Okay, then. How is your new apartment?
Oh right, the bats. What ever happened with them?
You know, good girls don't smoke cigars. Someone might think you're replacing something else with that cigar.
(Interrupts) ...a cigar?
But sometimes it's not.
Sorry, sorry. So what are you doing for the holiday weekend?
Ah, the windy city.
Will you see Oprah?
Too bad. I like her. Isn't she running for senate or something?
Right, Jerry Springer.
Right. So...how are things?
So do I. I mean you. I mean us.
I know you are, but what am I?
Tuesday, July 1, 2003
For example, it's illegal in the state of Michigan to deduct anything out of a security deposit for cleaning, but she charged me for cleaning the stove. Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, I lived there for almost four years, and she lived there for almost ten before that. The stove will be a little dirty, dumbass. Don't put this all on me -- especially when it's clearly stated that using a security deposit for cleaning charges is illegal.
It's also clearly stated that a security deposit may only be used for actual damages, yet she charged me for the time it took her to look for things. Example: I broke a lamp fixture and am more than willing to pay for the replacement. I broke it; I should pay for it. I am not, however, keen on paying for the time it took her to shop for a replacement, but -- guess what -- she charged me for her time, and she told me with a real bullshit condescending attitude, "I cost $25 an hour." Oh fuck you, you pathetic middle-aged bag. (Okay, I didn't tell her that, but seriously, I have twice as much education as this woman and unlike her, I have a fucking job, which is maybe why I don't feel the need to artificially pump up my self-worth in front of people who couldn't care less or -- whisper it! -- think I'm an ass.)
After some deliberation and consultation with friends, I have decided to just eat my losses, let it go, and be the bigger person here. (Believe me when I tell you that I am totally fucking tempted to gouge her twice as bad.) When it's split between my former roommate and me, it only amounts to $75 a piece -- a fair amount of money, especially to my former roommate, who is a college student and could use the cash, but not worth the hassle to sue her, even though I could do so for twice my security deposit plus court damages. But it kills me that she thinks she can take advantage, and does take advantage, of people this way. I do, however, believe in karma and you-get-what-you-give and poetic justice and all that, so I am patiently waiting for the day when she either gets run down by a truck, dumped by her husband (how does he live with her? she's a raving bitch!), or diagnosed with liver cancer. It'll happen.
(Incidentally, I am not going to put her name in a public space such as this one, but if you rent or plan on renting in Kalamazoo, she owns other properties. I'd be happy to tell you her name if you email me. That way, you won't have to deal with crap like this. Fuckin' bitchbag.)
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