Wow, a weird double-entry day again. I must be feeling guilty for the lack of updates this weekend.
That’s me. You’d think my drunken mama had been a drunken Jewish mama for all the guilt I carry around with me. Which is why I could never be one of those vampy chicks. I was discussing with PoorYorick the difference between Ginger and MaryAnn. He’s a MaryAnn man. It’s like Betty and Veronica. You either dig Betty or you dig Veronica. The masculine version of that: you either dig Archie or you like Reggie, although Reggie always struck me as a big of a pompous ass. Plus, he really sort of looked like Jughead’s evil twin brother. And I think they were both the illegitimate sons of Miss Grundy. It was the tell-tale weird nose that ties them all together.
I always sort of wished that I was a Veronica, but I’m just a Betty with Veronica tendencies. I have too much guilt to be a successful Veronica’. If I made Midge feel bad about dating a stupid jock, I’d have to make her cookies.
Which brings me to my current guilt: books.
If you’ve been playing along at home, you know how much I’ve been jonesing for the Barnes and Noble to open its latest store nary half a mile from my office. I’ve been envisioning lovely lunches spent reading expensive photography books while drinking warm Blackberry & Sage tea or writing in my red velvet schmancy journal which I never write in. I’m agog with delight over the prospect of ensconcing myself in a nice new overly stuffed chair and putting my feet up on their hearthstone before the gas fireplace.
But here’s the stitch.
My local lovely independent bookseller, with it’s green slate floors, two cats named Stan and Ollie, and its abundance of Margaret Atwood and Gerald Locklin books. My lovely independent bookstore in which I have read barely dry short stories to adoring listeners sitting in antique chairs. I read an article about them in the local newspaper, about how they’re not worried, about how they have very loyal customers who won’t be lured by a Starbucks, Godiva chocolates and gaggles of comfy armchairs.
In my excitement to have tens of literary journals at my beck and call, I had forgotten about my little 18×30 bookstore with no discernible parking spaces.
Hence, the guilt. And the fact that it is EXACTLY like the plot of You’ve Got Mail doesn’t help. If they end up closing and put up a little sign in their window that says ‘We have loved being a part of your lives’, I will just vomit.
Then I’ll probably need a Godiva chocolate and a nice comfy chair while I read the latest issue of ‘Utne Reader’ to get over it.
Stop looking at me like that.
Don’t forget to stop by PoorYorick’s page and give him a big Diaryland welcome. Unlike any previously plugged new diaries on my page, I actually KNOW PoorYorick and he’s pretty cool, smart, and clever. I expect good things to come from his page. Plus, there’s this whole weird karma thing going on that’s just boggling my mind. Stop by his page and he’ll ‘splain.
Mwah!
The Message Board is wondering which Comic Book Character you are?
