Needless to say, Lesley and I were both delighted by this masterpiece we discovered. It was sitting on top of a trash can in front of a liquor store, head totally not in sight. What’s not represented in the photo is the array of champagne glasses tied to this centerpiece.
I like to think that someone saved the wedding cake decorations and then, when times got tough, snapped off the wife’s head and trashed it all.
Too lazy to use words to express her desire to dismiss me, my mom resorted to making a space laser noise.
Me: You’re like a big kid, making noises.
Mom: (Staring at me for a moment) My double chin disappeared and went on your face!
Me: You’re like a rude, big kid.
Mom: (laughs)
So last night I had planned to stay in and relax, watch the RuPaul’s Drag Race Reunion show, and figure out a plan for my life – yes, all in one night. But in a quarter life crisis haze (“in a few years i’ll be too old to go out!”) I decided to meet up with my friends. I think I was being punished because by the time I met up with everyone they were pretty drunk already, and while dancing with one of the drunkest girls she accidentally slammed her head into my mouth. I left early since I was afraid to continue drinking with a fresh wound in my mouth, and with a straight up busted lip and blood trickling down into my teeth even I knew I was not appropriate to be out in public- even in the dark.
I woke up this morning looking like octo-mom fresh after a collagen injection! I actually don’t mind it to much, and if anyone at work asks me what happens I’ll respond in an Amy Sedaris fashion and say “I finally met a guy, and I think we’re in love!”
EDIT: I forgot to mention, when I told Lesley about this she called me octo-fag =/
Soumeya and I took some time out of our busy day yesterday to see the Yves Saint Laurent collection at de Young museum and as I looked at the evening gowns and tuxedo suits without any attention to detail, I became very aware of a noxious odor drifting into my nostrils. I turned to Soumeya and demanded to know “Who wears baby powder to a museum!” baby powder being one of the things that will trigger my fragrance allergies. As Soumeya wondered if she was the smelly beast, I turned to see who the offending person might be so as to avoid standing next to him/her throughout the rest of the exhibition. A few feet away there was a baby strapped into a chest harness, completely oblivious to having caused my discomfort. I found this hilarious on two parts because I had prematurely judged the baby as being an asshole, and because what were the chances that it would be an actual baby reeking of baby powder, and not some jerk who put on a bit too much Secret deodorant or used a bit too much Dove bar soap?
Happy Thanksgiving everybody! It’s my favorite holiday, and I found myself actually searching all of rural New Zealand for a turkey, some mashed potato casserole, cranberries, and a pumpkin pie. To no avail. It was sad. But, alas, it’s no longer T’Giving, so, Sigh.
11.26.08 – Queenstown – ADVENTURE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!!!!
The moniker is their’s and self imposed, so I feel obligated to shout it as loudly as I please in my sarcasto-blog. Continue reading