FINALLY – after literally months – I got together with Katie K in her ‘impressively staged’ condo. Why, when I recollect what it looked like the last time I was there…. okay, maybe I’d better rephrase that. There is virtually nothing in the condo. I mean, a hotel suite has more furniture in it. The repulsive colours on the walls are now amazingly similar to the Dusty Roads Paul and I painted the Augur Inn (note, that was really Unca Dave who painted it), and the hunter green carpet is now the same laminate flooring Paul and I put in the basement after the flood. All in all, it looks lovely & you can actually see all the closet space, of which, given the size of the condo, it has a lot. Yes, the condo is still for sale. Her new place closes in a month. Insert vicious comments about the horrors of getting a mortgage when you’re a woman on your own, bridge financing lamentations, etc., etc.
After we be trading smoking hot gossip and footrubs (when, pray tell, are footrubs NOT in order?) she got a thoughtful look on her face and showed off all the fancy lingerie she got in Vegas (okay, boys, you can all go to your happy place now) and she mentioned her weight loss, and then said, “Try these on” so I now have a really nice fitting pair of Gap jeans and the knowledge that Katie K is a size smaller than me. At least in the ass department. I’d need a really venal plastic surgeon to be able to approach the magnificence of her balcony. There followed a discussion about shipping ourselves off to a fat farm for a month next summer, this summer being jammed full of other things as well as almost over. Maybe I should just get my jaw wired shut; it would get me off the phone at work, my brother wouldn’t have to listen to my yammering, and I’d quit eating as if I had a tapeworm. Mm, tapeworm. I could always try that too.
Jeff and I had considered going to the Harlan Ellison biomovie at Cinémathèque but when I got home from Katie’s we just looked at each other and went meh. Then more NCIS. Pretty soon Season 3 will be all gone, so we’ll have to go back to watching movies. With respect to NCIS, I have noticed some really glaring continuity errors, and I’ve finally warmed up to Michael Weatherly. The Ziva character, of course, is wonderful.
I woke up to “Young Dumb and Crazy” playing in my head, with full 60’s style accompaniment, kinda a cross between Nelson Riddle and Bert Kaempfert (aaaarrrrgggghhh!) and some beardless tenor wailing out the lyrics. Let me tell you something. You know how you can get a song stuck in your head? Try having written the damned thing, c’est pas un cadeau.
Spoke to Paul yesterday about kid stuff. I am so happy to be able to communicate with him reasonably well about the important issues without being all hissy towards him. Human communication is such a fragile thing.
Today, laundry. And other cleaning matters…..
