2004-06-05 | 12:11 a.m.
you never give me (my) money

I really didn't forsee this Friday being worse than last Friday, but it managed to outdo it's older brother. Ah, kids.

Yes, so while I didn't collide with any wildlife today, and my car wasn't carted off on a flatbed truck for not starting, I did manage to not get the three weeks worth of pay I had coming. If you're keeping track, that means I haven't really been paid in two weeks. So I have $0. Actually, this morning I had -$45 in the bank, -$.78 in PayPal, and $25 in my pocket. So that's a grand total of $29.78 down. And we're not even talking about bills.

I'm not an overdrawn at the bank kind of lady (the PayPal thing happened because I didn't realize ol' PP charged a buck for ATM withdrawals). I was holding steady at $1.06 after the rent was paid (expecting a tidy sum to be deposited this afternoon -- where tidy is synonymous with measly). AND THEN! Lynda Barry finally cashed my $25 check. Which is magically awesome as I now have my own personal for real and amazing original drawing of Marlys and Arna eating sunflower seeds that says "To Dearest Jane" and a wonderfully nice and totally unnecessary note apologizing for the delay in doing the piece. I mean, who am I to rush Lynda Barry? And who am I to not have $25 in the bank. If not for that bastard EZ Pass, it all would have cleared nicely. But instead I was -$24. And then they took another $30 out as a hateful fee for covering my check for me (Thanks and all, though. How embarrassing it would have been to bounced the check, eh).

So my baby brother floated me $80 to get my bank balance back in the +#s. He's a good man.

Better about today was that The Girl brought home fish and chips for dinner, though last week I did have an amazing grilled ham and cheese sandwich.

Better than all of these times happened seven years ago today, when I met Chris Murphy, Andrew Scott and Kim Stitzel for the very first time. All in all, it's been a good show.

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2004-06-02 | 2:26 p.m.
raise your voice in celebration of the days that we have wasted

Hey, did you know there was a difference between DVD-R and DVD+R? Well, I didn't. Argh.

Eight years ago today, I joined the end of a line to meet Pulp and a homeless guy came up to me (to ask me for some money and) to tell me that two girls further up on the line were talking about me. One was Seana. The other was Dollie. And look where we all are now. Wait, where are we? Where am I? And what happened to my shoes?

Yeah. Friday is another big anniversary of first meetings. You'll just have to wait for that one.

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2004-06-01 | 2:59 p.m.
get out of cities, return to the trees

I am small-town giant house mad. Why not be a big fish in a small pond, especially when it's a pond with damn fine bagels, cute boys in the supermarket, nice-guy mechanics who deliver your repaired car, a heart-stopping Salvation Army and houses like this? I'd have to be a fool not to think about it.

One of a kind Brick Victorian! Spacious six bedroom, Three bath home with elegant entrance way and woodwork throughout. Beautiful well manicured yard with romantic coble stone walkway and carriage barn. Situated in the heart of pleasant city. Your Opportunity to own a home, with one of a kind character and quality awaits! This wont last long! Come home to this historic beauty. Home is adorned with five lovely wrought iron window baskets. Just a short walk to schools, YMCA, library, post office, and downtown shopping. $125,000.

Center Hall Victorian, Large rooms with original character intact. Original doors & hardware, Detailed woodwork, Beautiful entrance w/ open stairway, French doors, fireplace, attached Greenhouse in back of home, huge yard, second stairway off kitchen, two formal dining rooms & more. $79,900

Maybe I don't pick these towns for sure, but I'm heading up thataways, and I'm not looking back.

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2004-06-01 | 12:34 a.m.
talk to me tomorrow, I might have another story

I came to a realization this Friday night, fifteen minutes after colliding with a deer while driving (as a passenger) down a dark and creepy country road in a monstrous '87 Suburban -- and pining for my own little truck whose starter mysteriously gave out after my first ever driving lesson and was towed away to godknowswhere with much fanfare and no lack of tears -- to pick up a friend waiting in (and then outside) a bus station for over two hours. I realized that I don't need any more stories. I have so many "This one time..."s, I welcome a break.

Surely I am a very blessed girl, and there are at least as many glorious tales that start "This one time..." as there are horror stories, and the horror stories have always had relatively happy endings (maybe even for the deer. We were going like 15 MPH, and she really kind of just walked into the truck. Sure, she -- reportedly; I was too busy screaming and covering my eyes -- scuttled off like a hockey puck, but I'm not convinced she didn't jump right up and make a run for it when she got her wits back), but one time I'm going to go somewhere or do something, and it's going to be totally uneventful and will merit not one single, "You're never going to believe this" and I'm going to just love it.

Promise.

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