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Make me laugh and buy me some candy and I’m your bitch for life, ‘k?

I had a lovely day yesterday, which took away some of the lingering agony of the last week.

I went to ArtStreet with my sister Mo and niece Abby (who graces my banner ad below). It was lovely. I purchased a handmade paper stationery set, with which I intend to use to send Natalie a letter. It’s a pretty cool kit… it’s got pieces of marigolds and ferns pressed into the paper. I dig on that botanical stuff. It appeases my hippy background and assuages my guilt for doing non-hippy things like driving a big gas-guzzling sports car with leather seats.

I also stopped and talked to a lady who started a local children’s theatre group thirty years ago. She directed a few productions that I was in back when I was a wee Weetabix. She remembered me and gave me a big hug. She’s one of those women who I admire greatly, simply because she’s really wacky and she doesn’t care. She was wearing jean shorts and black and white striped knee socks.

I noticed that they’re having auditions this fall for one of the plays I remember trying out for when I was a Junior in high school. How sad is that…. they’ve run out of plays and are recycling them.

I am way too fucking old.

Strangely enough, we also bumped into my mom and Jonathon there, which was lovely. We all ate lunch together. Then it started to rain and we left, which is probably just as well, because I was teetering on purchasing a framed photograph from a local artist for $298. I suppose if I really wanted it, I could go back and get it, but I don’t think I really want it. It was a color photo and our living room is all black and white photographs, so it wouldn’t really fit the whole schema.

Then I went home, got changed, and Esteban and I went to dinner with several of our friends and their six month old babies (two sets of friends each have babies born within six days of each other). Oh, and Kim V. and God are expecting a child now. Wow. There are fewer and fewer of us who are putting off adulthood.

Afterwards, the women and children went home and I went with the boys to the cinema, where we met up with God and Scott and saw “Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back”. That is such a metaphor of my life. The girls go wherever it is that they go and Weetabix goes with the boys where we laugh at a bunch of fart and blowjob jokes.

And I’m ok with that.

I never have really gotten along with girly girls. I’m not a girly girl. I mean, I am sometimes… I like pretty underwear and jewelry, but at the same time, I’m not going to shrink from talking about computer games or books. I find that the girly girls at work or wherever talk about pregnancy or other girls. I just get along with men better. Or other women like me. Carissa is not a girly girl and I think that’s why we get along so well.

I think that the wives were going to invite me along with them. One asked “Weetabix, are you going to the movie?” And I was just stunned. Why would it be assumed that I WASN’T going to the movie? “Um, yeah.” I stuttered. “Oh, I didn’t know. I didn’t know if you were a Jay and Silent Bob type.” I said “I was actually the first person among us who saw ‘Clerks’. No one believed me about how funny it was until they saw ‘Dogma’.” Which is true.

The movie was funny, but if you are thinking about going to it, you should take Levontaun’s advice and rent the previous four movies first (Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, and Dogma) because a lot of the jokes are references to the previous movies.

Scott was a brave man. He had not seen any of the previous four movies, yet he said he enjoyed the movie more than any movie he had seen this year. I think he’s just jonesing because he sat next to me in the theatre and I kept offering him my Dots to chew on.

Oh, and Scott also mentioned that he was very disturbed to read that I had peed in the toilet he was working on last week. He mentioned that he had lain on the floor next to the toilet after I had done that. First of all, I replied, it was just a little tinkle, not a big old logger or anything. Secondly, I failed to mention, he probably urinated all over my lawn, which I have undoubtedly walked over in bare feet, so I don’t want to hear about it. After that little plumbing fiasco, Scott closed on a 3-year-old house. I’m trying not to look for the slam on our 53-year-old house there, buddy.


This morning, Esteban and I went to a bar and ate our Alcoholic’s Breakfast. We didn’t drink or anything last night, with the exception of Esteban’s few beers at dinner, but every now and then, we get the urge for hot wings and burgers on Sunday mornings. Today was one of those days. Amazingly, I had been hungry for breakfast at the bar and then Esteban suggested it. I love that weird married psychic wavelength thing we’ve got going on sometimes. Then, after “breakfast”, Esteban stopped at a gas station to pick up a paper, and I tried out the psychic thing again. Get me a diet Coke or something to sooth my hot sauce burned mouth……. He came out with two ice cream cones and then we went for a drive on the bay. Man, the things he does sometimes really makes up for the times when he’s a big jerk. But then, I suppose that’s his whole plan.

Give me an ice cream cone and I’m yours.

It’s sad, really, how easily I can be bought.


Oh, and if I know you in person and you are reading this diary and HAVE NOT SIGNED THE GUESTBOOK (Paul, I’m talking to you), you should know that that pisses me off to no end.

Don’t make me come after you.


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