September 6, 2006
Here We Go, Again...
Once again, I'm left with a blank space for a web page. I made an adjustment to the index template, republished it through Movable Type, and voilà—nada. Which isn't to say that I don't have anything to say, it's just that it seems to be the same old crap I have regurgitated before, and I hate being redundant, contrary to the fact that other people have told me that I repeat myself. That's OK. I'm perfect just the way I am...at least that's what The Path is trying to teach me.
So, let's see...what's goin' on?
Since my last entry of 02 AUG 2006, and since I didn't even have a link to August's archive page, let's start with August.
If I could remember August.
Right now, the only thing I can remember is going to see Peaches and Eagles of Death Metal at the Fillmore. OMG, EODM was to die for. Let me say it again. They were fucking brilliant. Loves it like you have no idea. Dude is hot. Peaches was a trip. Thanks for that. Crazy! I have the ticket stub, so maybe I'll get all creative-like and post it as proof. Like, that's the reason I do it, to prove to you all who think I'm a couch potato that I'm not.
And to further prove that I'm not a couch potato, my TiVo stopped recording shows on me, and I almost wet myself. "Holy crap! Did it break?" I whimpered. No, silly, it's full! The 80-hour device has recorded so many episodes of Star Trek (in various flavors), The X-Files, and CSI (the original, Las Vegas–based drama, complete with hunky, gorgeous George Eads), in addition to Project Runway, Barefoot Contessa (my new favorite) and America's Test Kitchen, that it can't hold any more! Whoa. Dude. Like, I've got to sit down and start watching TV again. And so, like, when do I have time to do that?
And that's why I'm not a couch potato.
Goll, what else. I'm looking at the calendar above my desk to see if I can jar any other memories loose. Give me a sec.
Went out to drinks with SBC (not the cursed "SBC"; SB-C, the one I work with). We went to Lavanda to start our evening with a cocktail and found that they were having a mini-wine tasting from a vineyard up north. Good stuff, and we ended up spending the night there. Danny, the French barman, was ultra-charming in his petit accent français, and that made us want to stay longer. We always do that...start at Lavanda and then stay there. Wine is so good. And I love saying "Lavanda." It sounds like the name of an exotic, mysterious woman from across the sea one would meet in a smoky, dimly-lit bar. "I am Lavanda." But it probably means something more earthy, which isn't as fun.
No vaccinations. Lots of blood drawn, though. Next vaccination is the last one, in December. The first two were of one type of vaccine, and they were administered with a precursor to the hypospray, I'm sure I said that already. (See! Redundant! Can't help it.) The last shot, of a different type of vaccine, will be administered with an old fashioned syringe, the needle of which will no doubt be in excess of the measurement scale of needles and will cause great pain and suffering. I started this trial for two reasons: one, to give to a worthy cause; and two, to conquer my fear of needles. The latter is not as easy as I thought.
Had my 100,000 mile service at Cowden Automotive. I used to take my old ’89 Golf there to be fixed, and it seems that I always had it towed in. There was always something catastrophic happening which required a tow truck. And I always left paying closer to four figures than should be legal for a car of that age. This time, I went in, talked to Paul (who is still gorgeous), and left about eight hours later paying less than I was quoted on the phone. Yippy! And it's all good. Remember way back in March when I thought my life was over and my car was dead? And remember when the dealer told me that the catalytic converter was broken and would cost me over two g's to fix? I mentioned that to Paul, and he found out that the converter is fine, and that the dealer was just trying to screw me out of some hard-earned cash. He (wouldn't and) didn't say that, but I (would and) did. Blow me, Broa——never mind, no bother in giving them business again. So that leaves me all set for my trip to Palm Springs in October.
Maybe one of the most brilliant of all the things that happened to me in August was the most awesome pair of shoes that I found and bought. I was on one of my many treks through the city, this time on the N line coming home, and I saw a guy with this great pair of shoes. He was pretty far down the train from me, and duh, like I have the nerve to talk to a stranger, so I couldn't tell what brand they were. A couple weeks later, I'm looking for another pair of shoes, and lo and behold, there is the same pair that the stranger on the train was wearing. Yay to the nth degree. Like, I almost wept. So, casting all good judgment to the wind, I ordered them, and within days, they were on my feet, looking faboo and making me feel like a million bucks. I love love love them. Really, I do. But I don't know if I should wear them with white socks anymore.
Last weekend was the Hairrison Street Fair, which coincided with Labor Day Weekend. I didn't go, but was oh, so tempted. Instead, I traipsed around town, freezing my ass off, letting my TiVo fill up, and breaking in my new shoes, the Newports, not the Bronxes. The Keen Newport is the perfect sandal for me. They are open and breezy on my feet, but there is a toe cap which covers my toes (again with the redundancy), which is what I want because I'm a little freaky about my toes. So I can wear sandals again and enjoy it. Plus, they look good and they're damn comfortable for walking all over hell and back. Did I mention how much I love them?
And that brings me to today, the boring hump day that it is. In one week, I have a special engagement, which will surely affect how I feel about my current position, and that's all I'll say on that matter, but there's definitely light at the end of my tunnel. I cannot wait. Let's hope that it won't take another month to write something. I need to be inspired somehow to be creative again. I used to write all the time, morning, noon, and night, and I don't anymore. How do I get going, even if it's only for me?
