gross

So one other note was also perched lecherously in my myspace inbox.

Sender name: 'Rick James'
[which obviously leads only to the mental image of dave chappelle, duh]
email title: 'want 2 hookup?'
[oh yeah, had to use the "2" on that one, did ya?]

The note itself was only one word: 'Lonely?'

What the hell is this, I ask you? Oh and some link to a singles site. Come on, man. Spring is a shitty season anyway, don't be zipping around the internet with your little 15-yr-old boy text message vocabulary and expect to fall into the happily waiting arms of some tart with thoughts of the birds and the bees dancing in her head. Most of us are busy upping our antidepressants and trying to adjust to the newfound sunshine after the Addams Family/Munster winter landscape [read: black, white, bleak, kindof creepy].

Jerk.

just. can't. help. myself.

So I'm a little out of control with the post-my-own-correspondence habit. whatever. like I care. I only care to entertain myself when it all shakes out, and this is a quality glimpse into my mind at the height of insomnia.

below is a sample of some myspace email between me and a good friend who just celebrated her birthday.


----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Allison
Date: May 10, 2007 11:25 PM


the title of this message is intended to be your birthday kiss/smooch/smacker. I always feel like a jackass sending a birthday myspace comment and am probably justified in assuming that you (or any person celebrating the anniversary of their existence) probably won't bother reading them anyway. Call me cynical, call me a heartless bitch with no soul, some people call me maurice. it's fine.

anyway, wanted to send you love and (believe it or not, considering the last paragraph) many many many happy wishes... sunshine/sparkle/rainbows, that kind of thing. Like Lisa Frank. She always managed to capture the right vibe on those unicorn trapper-keepers everybody used to have. Okay fine, it was MY unicorn trapper-keeper but damnit my New Kids binder had just broken and I needed a pick-me-up... second grade can be really tough.

Am admittedly a bit nostalgic for those good old 105 N Jordan days when we (well fine you/me/chonster/suze) lounged around with nothing better to do than watch Family Guy. Okay fine soft-core porn on Skinemax. Either way... I miss that.

And you.

all my love, sweetcakes.

Mitchell

----------------------------------------------------
Her response:

Crazy old Maurice, hmmm? Craaazy old Maurice, hmmm?
I loved those unicorn binders and I think I had one too.
Thanks for the birthday wishes! Hope all is well with you.
xoxoxo

Rachel

contente

Les Choristes, c'est parfait.

Simplement parfait.

La musique de les enfants nottament... angélique.

damnit I can't help myself

So I just sent a certain Brooklyn babe this note and I really think it's something marvelous. I really don't care if I look smug/self-important/vain for posting it. Bitch, please.

It reads:

1. Phone numbers are like doggie leashes. Sometimes you just need to hit the park and run free without 'em, I say. Let's go with the 'freedom from technological shackles' concept and make you not having my mobile number a very avant-garde thing.

2. The timing for me getting this note could not have been more perfect since MY BROTHER JUST GAVE ME A POLAROID CAMERA! He found it when he moved out of the frat house (oh yes, the FRAT) for the summer and gave it to me with a shrug and the remark, "yeah... you seemed like someone who would be into that."

mwahahaha.

Anyway, I'm home for a couple days to see the fam and my older brother who's in town from Shanghai. woot woot. So let's catch up little mamacita! (I do not actually know how to spell 'mamacita' so if that is horribly wrong please do not take it as an anti-Hispanic slur, mearly evidence that I took the rather useless road of French class in high school, not Spanish. Just saying).

Anyway, has been a crazy week. Some bastard stole our rent checks from the drop box and is trying to run off with shit-tons of pirate booty. No-good-shithead-bastard-dishonest-mongrel-good-for-nothing-louse. Or my new favorite term, "Balderdouche." (love it!)

kisses kisses kisses,
mitchie

OH MY GOD ALMOST FORGOT TO GIVE YOU THE DAMN NUMBER! HAHAHA! ***.***.**** [oh no you don't, blog-o-sphere-ites at large]

WHAT AN IDIOT! HAHAHA! LOVE YOU!

Weather Report

It's just turned morning, the laptop clock reads 6:30. I haven't slept. Sometimes physical fatigue isn't enough to guarantee a restful night. Just one of those unwanted lessons to come out of the past 6-7 years.

Shallow confession: cannot decide what to wear to work today. About to dash through the morning shower routine and cannot decide if today is one of those days when I'm so exhausted that I go to extremes to disguise it (read: glam glam glam, high heels, makeup to make a drag queen proud) or just show up in some slovenly heap of 'comfy' attire normally reserved for when I run out of clean laundry and have to make do with leftovers. The debate continues.

I think today is going to require a heavy rotation of Elton John. Oh, God it might even be drastic: the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. (Stayin' alive, baby.)

Tonight's forecast: drowsy with a 70% chance of bitchiness and overcast skies.

spirit du jour

Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray.

Tra la! It's here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear!

It's May! It's May!
That gorgeous holiday
When ev'ry maiden prays that her lad
Will be a cad!

It's mad! It's gay!
A libelous display!

Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes,
Ev'ryone breaks.
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!

- Camelot

OCD OOC

Now that my semester has ended (to a certain extent) and my health has returned (to a certain extent), have realized just how disastrous my physical life has become. As in my house is a flippin' mess and it's re-god-damn-diculous. Especially considering my little thing with being an all-controlling, obsessive, "please pass the windex" clean freak.

Thus, in between bouts of homework and residual paper writing, have managed to complete the following tasks:

1. Have bleached/sanitized every square inch of this place. It involved a lot of scrubbing, being on my knees, and the not-so-subtle fumes of Mr. Clean Antibacterial.
2. Reorganized shoe collection. Managed to get rid of 4 pair of pink heels alone. Frightening, n'est-ce pas? Also switched winter shoes to their summer hibernation and got out the labelmaker (which I adore beyond expression) just for kicks.
3. Organized massive magazine collection by title and chronology. And subject matter. It's gorgeous.
4. Separated bookshelf by topic, frequency of use, non-fiction/fiction, etc. It too is gorgeous.
5. Switched artwork. Needed some variety after the stagnancy/nightmare that has been the past 6-8 months. Pretty refreshing.
6. Laundry. Everything is once again Downy April Fresh, including towels and linens and that pesky pile of "hand wash only" delicates that I've been avoiding for so long. Apparently, and much to my disappointment, if you leave them long enough, they do not in fact clean themselves.
7. Alphabetized and filed piano music that had taken permanent residence atop the piano in two heaps. Aaaahhhh. So much better.

Sadly, this list could continue but I'll leave out the rest of the details (like cleaning my laptop keyboard with q-tips... kindof a tragic "single woman who lives with her cat" moment).

But life is better when it sparkles a bit, eh?