A cross between chinese leftovers and a tarot card reading
I just ate seven fortune cookies.
I was looking desperately for a sign, a hint at my future, something to make up for how lame my first fortune cookie was - ":) You will enjoy good health. :)" So I just kept opening more and more fortune cookies. I just wanted to break one open and find the words "You're not going to die lonely with cats."
Instead I got
":) You will have a fine capacity for the enjoyment of life. :)"
and
":) Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life. :)"
Fortune cookie #7 was empty. I ate it anyway. It tasted like cardboard.
Communists.
emotional furniture
I dropped my past off at PTA Thrift Store today. It was like the wooden version of emotional baggage unloaded from a ford windstar.
spending the day tomorrow on highways that end in "North".
It's not me. It's the ghosts.
having been unable to find a boat, i settled on furniture restoration yesterday. i now have a singer sewing machine cabinet dating from the early 1900's. it looks really cool, but i refuse to be in the room alone with it at night because i am convinced that it is haunted.
I need to watch less Discovery Channel
Whenever I have a lot of things to be doing (i.e. packing up my life and moving) I always get really energetic about new hobbies that I should start. I was just about to take up furniture restoration when I changed my mind and remembered my 3 week long dream to be a fisherman.
Its true. I wanna fish. Except I've always had this strong bias against fishing. Bad experience back on the Dash Point Dock with a man and a giant salmon when I was 5. We don't talk about it.
Maybe I'm looking at less fisherman and more boatsitterman. I'd be an award winning boat sitter.
You know you are lazy when . . .
you realize that you're not going to have a dishwasher once you move and immediately burst into tears.
Please don't mention my car, or my washing machine and dryer either.
I'm having separation anxiety already.
NYC APT in LES
Is it bad that the only thing drawing me to the lower east side is the magnetic fields song that plays in my head everytime I hear about the area, and yet that is somehow enough to encourage me to move there? (Its a catchy song. "
I'm the luckiest guy on the lower east side, cuz i've got wheels and you want to go for a ride. The day is beautiful, and so are you. My car is ugly, but then I'm ugly too. . . )
I wish NYC apartment ads would include information that is pertinent to your apartment search.
For example:
"2 BR, lots of windows, low probability a neighbor will kill you."
"Studio, quaint, resident rats large enough to serve as ottomans."
"Second floor walk up, quiet, rooftop access, the woman on the first floor already hates you."
"Hardwood floors, all new kitchen appliances, the neighbors across the street don't close their blinds. Ever."
"Sketchy landlord, but the password for 3B's wireless internet is 'weasel' so you can use his for free."
This is the information that people base decisions on. Not any of this b.s. about how "cozy" a place is, or the hip coffee place that I can't afford across the street, or the laundromat that is only 15 blocks away.
Craig's List NYC men seeking women posts that I wouldn't respond to
"Short, fat, bald and married seeks young girl in her 20s. - 50"
"Fossil Seeks Archaeologist - 47"
"any ladies need a footslave tonight - 30"
"mutual masterbation in the park? - 31" *
"any girls want to go under my office desk in jersey " * *
"Im ACE and im a clubber - 30 "
"Do you want to be a mother? - 43 "
"Cultured Gentleman looking to buy pantyhose you wore to
work/school" * * *
* ruled out only on condition of poor spelling
* * jersey? no.
* * * offered poor compensation for said worn pantyhose
Parking Tickets Make Me Cry
They do. For two full days apparently. And this is not a sign of my emotional instability, by the way. Parking tickets are awful in their way of scolding you. You get a glaring yellow envelope on your car to tell you that you have done something wrong and it was so awful that no one even cares that you are sorry. I even tried grovelling with the woman who was driving away, grinning that she had found a car without a 9-4 parking tag. I mean, I can't really blame her. Her job is to drive around town hunting out cars that are illegally parked. Its like a malevolent Easter Egg hunt. I'd be smug too. Then I'd get a new job that
didn't involve ruining the week of a really cute young girl just because I would want to sleep at night, but that is besides the point. In other words, parking tickets make me feel horribly guilty and regretful, and they make me cry. As do stories about fictional baby otters (portly!) but thats a different story.
I just wrote my check for an unbelievable amount of money that will go straight to paying for the health insurance of empty-inside-parking-ticket-lady and I wrote in the memo line "I'm really sorry for parking my car in the wrong place." Because really I am. If I had Monday morning to do all over again I would have moved my car. And I did something bad, so I feel some solace now that I have apologized. I'm hoping e.i.p.t.l. will see my apology and forgive me. And give me back my money.
