Oh my goodness. This is going to be a long entry. Perhaps it will be concentrated, like a wordly demi glace? So many things happened in the last few days, I’ve actually made an outline so that I don’t forget anything. I hate doing that. I hate having to organize an entry. Usually, I just sort of glurp out everything onto the page and go with it. But an outline. That’s like a legitmate writerly thing to do. I didn’t do an outline for JournalCon’s entry, and because of that, I forgot to mention a bunch of things, like the way that Renee says ‘tired’ (tahired), or how damn right sexy MoPie was almost every minute, or how the leather chairs in the lobby sucked you into them like big butt eating machines or how compelling Pete’s karaoke version of ‘True Colors’ was or how Sasha flagged down a cab for me outside of Japantown. But then, sometimes you just need to save some things for the ‘Behind The Diarist: Weetabix’ episode or that poor narrator will have nothing to talk about other than the mysterious entries I’ve posted and then deleted. (Thirteen times? What was that about???)
See, there’s my problem right there. I just made the entry that much longer and I haven’t even begun to talk about everything that’s happened since the last entry. Gah. Sometimes I think I might have been a Russian novelist in a past life. Which also explains the presence of not one, not two, but five different vodkas in my liquor cabinet. (Save your interventions for the end of the entry. Thanks.)
Halloween was completely uneventful. Our office has one holiday event a year and it is strangely enough Halloween. There is the Mother of All Potlucks, coordinated by sector of the building. One part brings salads, one part brings beverages, plates and stuff like that, one area brings desserts. Because for any successful binge, there must be planning. We Midwesterners don’t mess around. You wouldn’t want to get ready to consume mass quantities with your coworkers and wear your elastic waisted pants and then find out there is a scarcity of jello salad and the potluck consists of 90 pans of brownies and a few bags of Doritos. We’re just not having that. It is taken very seriously. Our area was assigned salads this year. I brought baby carrots, if you must know. It meant that I didn’t have to cook. Just unzip the bag, and actually I didn’t even do that. Sweet.
There is also a huge costume parade and contest. These get quite elaborate. There are large group entries, which usually involve a chant or song of some kind. One year, my department was a pack of crayons. I was a white one. It made me feel like a KKK member, with that white pointy hat. Another year, our department was dalmation puppies. I declined that year, as the costume consisted of a white sweatshirt and sweatpants with black felt spots sewed on and to me it just screamed New Holstein cow. I got a ‘Does not play well with others’ reputation. The next year, I rebounded, as it was 1999 and we were heavy into the Y2K project. We were insects. Actually, we were Y2K Bugs. Our song was Princes ‘Party Like It’s 1999’. It allowed for creativity. You didn’t have to look like your fellow bug. I could get behind that. I was going to sit out the following year but Carissa and Penny decided to be a Gypsy and a Tramp and felt they needed a Thief. Because it involved only wearing black (something I do a lot anyway) and hauling around a pillow case and a crow bar, I was fine with that. I sat out last year. Carissa and Penny, on the other hand, have dressed up every year. Last year, they were Moulin Rouge girls. This year, their department reinacted various scenes from Grease. Carissa was Cha Cha, the best dancer at St. Bernadette’s (with the worst reputation). Penny pulled out a thistight outfit for which many little lycrans gave their lives and worked Sandy like nobody’s business. She was the one everyone wanted oooh oooh oooh. Unreal. It was a fun day. I have nothing really witty to say about it because it was just one of those ‘
Hmmm’. That was nice.’ kind of things, one of the parts of my life that I really don’t have a little goofy story about, just sort of a serial account that I usually ignore on this thing but Chauffi made me tell you, since he referenced it in one of his entries. Because Esteban’s lab was going to be without electricity due to construction on Halloween and strangely enough, it’s really hard to do the computer thing in Amish mode (although wouldn’t it have been funny if it wasn’t really construction and just some people dressed up like Doozers or something? Now THAT would have been funny), he worked at Maison D’Joel all day and I drove out there right after work. Joel made us a lovely dinner of chicken parmesan (sans Doritos) and I got to play our Xbox for the first time ever but on Joel’s enormous home theatre screen, which is something like 12×5 miles, I promptly got motion sick playing the Buffy game. Which is too bad, because I was a very good slayer. Perhaps I would have been Chosen if I hadn’t had the love of Twinkies slowing me down in my early years. Mofo Hostess.
Ok, that was almost 1000 words right there and I haven’t even gotten to the outline stuff yet. Mofo outline. This entry may just be my white whale. Call me Ishabix.
So Friday, Penny, Carissa and I took a half day to shop. Our original plan entailed going to Appleton to search for bras for Carissa. We then decided that we should go to the Bad Bar on Friday night as well. And then I suggested that instead of going to Appleton, we go to Milwaukee where we could go to the Hootchie Mama store and also my favorite mall in the world. And then I mentioned that they have a Krispy Kreme very close to that mall, which pretty much clinched the deal. Because Penny wasn’t interested in driving and her car is actually exactly like my car, only red and with a different spoiler on the back, she picked me up and asked if I wanted to drive. Sure, and as my first act as driver, I drove through Starbucks for three Venti Vanilla Mochas. This was Penny’s first Starbucks moment and I was pleased to have popped her Mocha cherry. We picked Carissa up on the way out of town (and she told us how much she loved us for having hot steamy delicious coffee waiting for her) and then we proceeded to rock out to a mix CD I made especially for the occasion.
We rocked out for the ride down. Carissa insisted that we listen to Bon Jovi. I countered with Michelle Branch. Penny remained impartial. Carissa didn’t like the Come On Down song, to which Penny and I are incredulous. Even Esteban likes that song! Sometimes I think Carissa’s ears are broke. Must be all the country (ouch, stop hitting me Carissa!).
Holy shit, there’s a mouse in the house. You’ll have to wait for the rest. Don’t worry. I have an outline.
