||[Jun. 19th, 2005|08:57 pm]
The Insensitive MC
Sunday evening margarita made me nauseous. Lightweight. It's the service in that joint that's truly sickening. The bar douche once tossed an ashtray at my shoulder with such indifferent velocity that I actually said "ow" with an earnest disposition. Fucking, OW. Relax, dude. Life ain't that bad. Sorry you're 37 and still slinging nachos to spoiled RISD brats in flat Mary Janes. Could be worse. Think about it. I'm barely 24 and half a shot of tequila is disagreeing with my entire system. Ow.
Is anyone watching the final season of Six Feet Under?
Grandma stopped by my apartment this afternoon. She liked the japanese screen in my bedroom. Loved the couch. I hate the couch. But grandma? Loved it. She also loves Manny Ramirez of the Red Sox because he's "like a bag of nothing". I guffawed and offered her a beer. She declined but said I have nice teeth. She's like everyone I ever dated. Ow.
I've been at my delightfully decent job for over 3 months now, have been in this fairly fab apartment a bit longer, have been with the beau for 8 months. Everything is sort of great. My girlfriends and I have dinner during the week, mainly plates upon boats of sushi at Haruki a few blocks away. We sit at the sushi bar and the head chef whose name we do not know gives us squid and lollipops. I told my cooked-maki-only-please girlfriend that the squid was pork and she ate it without hesitation and commented on how like, totally chewy it was. Try some more, B. "Okay, O". *chompchompchompchompchompchompchompchomp swallow*. Not bad.
Th beau is laughing at something Marge said far too loudly. Marge is never funny. Sometimes I kind of hate him.
My whole life is a non-sequiter. I miss writing. I hate Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Everyone's latest album sucks. But I love that my grandma said that my bathroom is "wow". Because, frankly, everything is pretty wow right now. Except whatever the frig was in that margarita.