Instead of proofreading my own stupidity for you, I will share it. I’m that kind of Interweb Exhibitionist™. I read the most recent Southwest Airlines email newsletter and thought it said their latest air fare specials were for a trip between San Francisco and Oakland. I thought to myself, “O my! Do the good people at Southwest and the San Francisco Convention & Visitors Bureau mean that they have stupendously butt-rocking deals for me if I only drive the 20 miles to Oakland, pay fifty bucks, and spend more time on the tarmac than in the air, then cheaply yet stylishly rent a car in order to drive another 10 miles into beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful and life-altering downtown Frisco?!”
But alas, only I am that dense.
And yes, I used “Frisco”. For humor’s sake. Put down the torches, you.
On 31 December, I downloaded MacJournal fully intending to keep a daily diary – no exceptions – for the entirety of 02004. So far, so good, but the entries have been either way too boring or way too private to repost here. It’s funny how many people have written me email and been amazed at how “forthright” I am by posting in-depth entries about depression, relationships, depressive relationships, relationships with depression, the Great Depression, depressive relationships during the Great Depression, tongue depressors, etc. I’m really not. I am in fact making all of this up. Offline, I am secretly a Keebler Elf. Er, I mean. Dammit! I will diminish, and go into the west, and remain DeluxeGrahamiel.
Is it wrong that I keep singing, “No sleep till … da-da! da-DAAAAA! MACWORLD!” Holy shit, I’m going to Macworld with the ever-charming Jim in three days. And Perlmunkee will be there too! Hooray!
I cannot afford a bottle of Lagavulin right now, but as soon as I can, I will be throwing down my hard-earned library cash to do so. That is how hardcore I am about this whisky. Hardcore. I can’t make the automagic speller trigger on “hardcore” – is that now a word? I thought it had to be hyphenated. What do I know? Anyway, whisky. Hardcore. What, am I a grownup now? I have drink preferences. This is weird. Stop it!
Anyway, tonight, the MSG is making some kind of insane salad with radishes and beets and carrots to go alongside the crab and artichoke ravioli we picked out at the farmer’s market. Actually, “we” didn’t “pick it out”; we had both been eyeing it for the better part of a month, and one week we lingered long enough in front of it that I had time to grab the MSG’s arm, point at the package and say, “Make that for me.” And it worked! Pinot noir is also rumored to be present at this dinnerlike entity. I used to be a cab girl, but now I am seeing the light on the pinot noir thing. Also, it’s got “noir” in the title. O, and I did that “picking it out” thing with the arugula, pear, and goat cheese ravioli, which I imagine will be a combination I could only use one phrase to describe: off the hook. And I hate that phrase. Almost as much as 0wnz. Or, for that matter, pwnz. But I’ll keep you updated on its hook status. Something like this:
The other night, the MSG and I tried a wine (pinot? syrah? dunno) that had a decidedly milky finish. As if one had just put down a great big glass of nummy milk, smacking one’s lips, to discover that instead, one was drinking RED WINE. It was really messed up, and I enjoyed it immensely. Now I am interested in trying wines with a “wet dog” finish. Maybe I will branch out into “pleather” and also perhaps “earwax”. The world is my oyster. My fucked-up wine-tasting oyster. I wonder what wine with an oyster finish would taste like …
Apropos of nothing, the Bush in 30 Seconds contest 0wnz. My favorite finalist is “In My Country” by Outpost 7. Very powerful. Also, I really like the surprise ending, when the boat sinks as Frodo is throwing the gigantic sapphire into the fires of Mount Doom while singing “My Heart Will Go On”.
Raspberry Milano cookies? They pwn. THAT’S RIGHT! I SAID PWN.
Current mood: Current music: