i'm ready for my close-up
finally, finally, finally, the locker-room at nysc is open after a far too long renovation. the only casualties, it seems, are the one urinal that mysteriously disappeared and the tall, weird, ambiguously gay attendant who disappeared as well. nice enough guy, but lingered a tad tooooooo long, me thinks. one day, personal jesus came on the tv / speakers, i look at the video, and he comes up to me and says he loves 'the dapatch mode.' honey, the only people who love the dapatch more are friends of dorothy, mmmkay. hell, they're one of my favoritest bands of all time.
got my annual 'we're upping your dues' letter from the grand poobah of nysc on monday, ironically. i love it... can't use the locker room for half of the summer, but i'm going to pay $2.25 more for the privilege of towels as rough as sandpaper and semi-broken equipment. fair tradeoff, no?
---
last night was the annual opera in central park with the nanny, the doctor-to-be, and the television star. now, after a glass of wine or, perhaps, two, at the very, very end of the opera, i was on my cel with a friend who left a rather panicked voicemail about how she lost power and the drama that ensued. toward the end, the whole park was rather lit and some nasty shrew slithers up to me on her stomach, i kid you not, and tells me that i'm being rude on my cel.
'the whole point of being here is to listen to the music.'
'no, the whole point of being here is to enjoy your friends and the music.'
'so enjoy your friends and get off your cel.'
'i'm enjoying my friend ON my cel.'
and so on and so on and so on. really, i'm like suzanne sugarbaker from 'designing women:' you just have to let me do what i'm going to do or incur my wrath.
that nastay bitch, i hope she got a mighty-bad grass stain slinking around like the snake she is.
got my annual 'we're upping your dues' letter from the grand poobah of nysc on monday, ironically. i love it... can't use the locker room for half of the summer, but i'm going to pay $2.25 more for the privilege of towels as rough as sandpaper and semi-broken equipment. fair tradeoff, no?
---
last night was the annual opera in central park with the nanny, the doctor-to-be, and the television star. now, after a glass of wine or, perhaps, two, at the very, very end of the opera, i was on my cel with a friend who left a rather panicked voicemail about how she lost power and the drama that ensued. toward the end, the whole park was rather lit and some nasty shrew slithers up to me on her stomach, i kid you not, and tells me that i'm being rude on my cel.
'the whole point of being here is to listen to the music.'
'no, the whole point of being here is to enjoy your friends and the music.'
'so enjoy your friends and get off your cel.'
'i'm enjoying my friend ON my cel.'
and so on and so on and so on. really, i'm like suzanne sugarbaker from 'designing women:' you just have to let me do what i'm going to do or incur my wrath.
that nastay bitch, i hope she got a mighty-bad grass stain slinking around like the snake she is.
posted by tom at 7:49 AM
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