Oct
16
2005
The Loneliness of the First Time Blogger
Oh, the awkwardness of the first post!
So let's talk about me. That always helps. First of all, I'd like to establish a few things. Are you sitting comfortably? Right then. Here we are:
Oh, the awkwardness of the first post!
So let's talk about me. That always helps. First of all, I'd like to establish a few things. Are you sitting comfortably? Right then. Here we are:
I haven't slept in my own bed in almost two weeks. Something is happening to my bathroom floor which requires some men coming in to take my bathtub out and put it in the kitchen, then do some general smashing around with power tools, then go away and not show up for a while. I left them a tupperware container of homemade cookies this morning in a desperate bid to bribe them into showing up more frequently and taking my tub out of the kitchen and removing their weird Big Gulp containers from my coffee table and, you know, resuming the job they started ten days ago, so we'll see.
A few weeks ago, I was on a plane to San Francisco, half dozing while I listened to my iPod and wondering why on earth I'd needed to get up at 4am if my plane hadn't actually left the airport until 8:30am (it was something to do with the crew needing to push the snooze button a few more times because they hadn't got the Required Amount Of Sleep the night before and oooh, that is such a good one, I'm going to use that next time I'm late for work, except my Required Amount of Sleep is 12 hours and I don't fly planes) when I reached up to adjust my earphone, and MY EAR FELL APART IN MY HAND.
What is it about synchronized dance routines that makes them quite possibly THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD?
A story I never tire of telling is the one about The Naked Girl Who Walked Into My House One Morning. It goes down very well at parties. If you're ever on an awkward first date and you need to regale your companion with an uproarious anecdote, then I grant you permission to use this one. Just remember to change the names to protect the innocent. And so you don't look like you're re-telling someone else's story.
The fantastic house I'm currently still house-sitting is a lot more conducive to entertaining than my own apartment is---mostly because there is a dining room! and a dishwasher! and, you know, heat!---so last night two of my friends came over in their pajamas for a ceremonial evening of Thinly-Veiled Bitching About People We Don't Like, spinach pizza, and Prosecco. Which I rather think is one of the world's most excellent combinations, don't you?
Roughly 60% of my motivation for attending yoga is that the (rather attractivc male) teacher gives shoulder massages afterwards.
I've started using Swiffer and Dyson as verbs.
Someone found my website by googling "walked in on girlfriend peeing." I sort of feel sorry for him---one can only assume he was looking for advice on dealing with the embarassment of the situation.
When Sean and I talk to the cats, we refer to ourselves as Mama and Papa.
With French accents.
