the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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12:19 p.m. + 2003-04-19 = easter eve
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ahh... saturday morning. morning=11.47am-12.20pm. so thus far i have come across three unsettling things: 1. Hilde of Trading Spaces painted a monstrously big, cartoonish portrait of herself in a room. HERRE GUD, hilde... when will this madness end? i had just gotten over the hay-on-the-wall incident... now this. shame on you! shame on you! a plague on both your houses! 2. the kitchen is a complete mess. we owe this to sistersister (kristin), she's messy. there was no coffee either. pshaw. i tidied best i could in 5 minutes. i should be sweeping, swiffering and mopping, but alas i needed to hottrot it up to Svenska Huset (my oncampus housing, a house full of swede-wannabes and two actual live swedes, rather... "f'wedes" as i call them. I am, of course, the non-entity of the house.) have just realised that i've left all my toiletries at homehome (16 blocks due NNW). fuck. blah. 3. upon drive around campus to drop sistersister off at her dorm, i nearly run over Jim Foote from Neptune City, NJ. Although 'twould be a small blessing to have one less ghettobootied, taperedpants-wearing, socially-awkwarder-than-socially-awkwardily-possible person on this campus, i cannot say that i advocate hit-and-run. i am teasing of course... i wouldn't hurt a fly. it is the unsettling stomach caused by sight of flannel shirt tucked into tapered jeans (rolled up at the cuffs, both shirt and jeans) accentuating ungodly disproportionate ass. I never hope for these things. tragedy follows me. but now, i'm in my messy oncampus room, about to embark onward to morris, mn. family. easter. jellybeans, i'm sure, will be involved. i may try to write my feminist philosophy paper whilst there. dessutom my intentions never materialise till tangible action. (stop blinking twice, that sentence IS imbedded with swedish. subversively, you will all learn swedish. it IS part of the plan. phase two, f�r att vara precis. phase one went off without a hitch... you've all eaten up the hives, the sahara hotnights, the cardigans, the ryan adams (although not a swede, overly loved&promoted in sweden, therefore: one of ours.) so where was I? i don't remember. it's not important. i must clean this room and knick some shampoo and facewash from the "other" pile of toiletries in the bathroom. then proceed to use the shower downstairs, next to what used to be my single room.... *sigh*... i loved that room. it was so much easier to be aloof. i love that shower too. SO much can be said for high-water pressure.
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]
[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]
