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Fri, Feb. 22, '02, 11:24 pm
Winter is a most unsexy season for me. It really is. It's roughly 3 billion degrees below zero outside, and when I leave the house I am forced to drape garments of warmth over my perfectly nice figure-hugging clothes. Garments of warmth that obscure my deliciously ripe curves, turning me from a petite-yet-curvy-sexpot-with-love-handles (oh, humour me, damnit) into a little teapot, short and stout. In a hat and scarf. Oh, bite me, winter!
Of course I overcompensate for this denigration of my perceived sex appeal by tearing my jacket off the minute I get inside, be it the grocery store, mall, bookstore, or coffee shop, and thrust my chest out arrogantly, walking head high and with conviction ... because damnit, I've just been out walking in 40-below weather for 20 minutes, and I am NOT about to let that hard-earned SNE go to waste.
I want to ooze sex appeal wherever I go, and even if I can't, I at least want to be able to think that I do. Pretty damn difficult when I'm dressed up like the Michelin Man. And no, I don't wear one of those hideously huge parkas. ALL winter jackets, no matter how thin, seem to give me that StayPuft look. A curse of being unskinny and vertically challenged, I suppose. I don't do "layers" well.
Excuse me, but Sex & the City is on now, and for some reason I feel compelled to watch it. I think it's a new episode.
1:07 am
My mom's purse got stolen tonight while she was out at some club. Her cell phone, credit cards, licence, birth certificate, health card, and a couple hundred bucks were in there. Sucks, doesn't it? She came home, reported everything stolen, then sat down across from me and wailed loudly for a bit. Then, when I dared to utter "Well, it can't be THAT bad, it's not the end of the world, you can get new cards, and you can afford to replace all your stuff, right?", she moaned again about hassles and stress, stormed off, said "I'm going to bed!", and slammed her bedroom door.
Heh.
I guess we know where I get all my Drama Queenly tendencies from now, don't we?
Still, getting a purse with all that loot in it stolen is a pretty disturbing thing, I would imagine. Lucky for me I have little worth stealing.
This may also delay the retrieval of our computer for a few more days. This I don't mind. I've been more productive without it, and haven't missed it nearly as much as I thought I would. It's actually rather liberating not to have some box controlling my life. Maybe I'll take another week or two off it, just for good measure. I'm afraid of going right back to it and spending hours and hours in front of it, wasting my days away ... ugh. Maybe I'll just stick to diary writing and e-mail checking once a day, and stay away from all instant messaging and chat. That stuff is all very overwhelming for me right now. Too many contacts. Contacts I don't even know in real life. Ones who live too far away to meet anytime in the near future. Lovely people, but distant people. It traps me inside, isolates me from my "real" life environment. It keeps me in hiding. And we can't have that, now can we? No, we can't. That was rhetorical, numb nuts.
Goodnight.
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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
Don't steal my shit. I'll send thugs. Oh shut up. I do
so
have thugs. Quit laughing! Look, just don't steal my stuff, OK?
