So good

June 14, 2005 - 9:56 p.m.

You know what sucks the most about me?

I don’t write enough. I should write every day. Wouldn’t it be cool if I wrote every day?

Which is worse?

1) Having loads of time to write on the internet every day, but without much to say? Or;

2) Having loads to say and no time at all to write on the internet?

By far, number one is worse.

Ever since I started dating X-treme Action G.I. Joe, my life is a veritable fountain of good story lines, and I’ve got something for everyone.

Typical Monday, you walk into work and hear something like this:

“What did you do this weekend?”

“Not much. Laundry. TV. Appetizer sampler at TGI Fridays.”

What did I do this weekend?

“I went to Miami for 21 hours and dropped an assload of money at the Delano Hotel next to the freaky swimming pool with no edge and the water floats there like Christ hisself is ‘bout to catwalk across the surface.”

“I went to the Indy 500, where, for the first time in my life I can honestly say I experienced ‘heart-stopping excitement’.”

“The Chicago Blues Fest.”

“Sailing on Lake Michigan.”

“A ‘Cold War’ party where you had to wear a pin of either the American flag or the Russian flag with hammer & sickle, and there was a ‘Gorby Make-Out Room’ plastered with pictures of Gorbechev with kiss marks on his face.”

“Landscaped my boyfriend’s yard like Edward Fucking Scissorhands, sculpting bushes into beauty until the trimmer broke right in my hands.”

“Threw a highly successful barbeque, serving shrimp and steak ke-bobs and turkey burgers, to all of my oldest and dearest friends, running around drunk and barefoot like my name was Brandine, forgetting to cross my legs with a skirt on.”

“Premiered the kick-ass silent 8mm film we made in Egypt, to all of the guests at the party, and was rewarded with great applause despite my bloated bikini scene.”

“Watched Quadrophenia on a laptop in the backyard on a very warm night.”

“Napped next to my boyfriend in a hammock on a day when the sky was actually blue, the clouds were fluffy, and the vibrant green trees swayed, holding a pissed off squirrel who chattered and shrieked and shook his tiny fist at this horrible unjust world.”

“Went to ‘biker night’ at Dante’s, me the bitch on the back, riding on the rear fender of a gorgeous Harley, my ass vibrating and my face pressed into my boyfriend’s back, holding back tears because life doesn’t get any better than this.”

“Drove to the suburbs to Willowbrook Ballroom to take swing dance lessons, tore that place up, me and the pilot spinning and twirling in perfect unison, staring into each other’s eyes like we were one, and it made me so horny.”

Tonight. I’m going over to Monroe Harbor to spend the night on the pilot’s sail boat. We’re gonna watch DVDs on the laptop, drink wine, and pretend we’re cast away. In the morning we’re going to walk across Lake Shore Drive and spend the morning at museums until I have to go to work. Holy shit, life is so good and I never even have time to write about it.

Previous - Next

The Latest Babel

The Fast, Days 1-6
January 28, 2007