17 June
One more short Fleadh-related story. Actually, it doesn't have a thing to do with the Fleadh, it just took place on Sunday night.
On the subway going home I sat next to this tiny little girl. I was on her right and her Mom was on her left, with an older boy on Mom's other side. Now, pretty much the rest of the car was filled with a bunch of filthy, muddy Fleadh-ers (I amused myself by looking at people's shoes to see if they had gone or not: "Yes yes yes no yes no no yes") carrying large bags, and the girl hanging onto a pole right in front of the baby girl had this backpack that came a little too close to the child's face.
Well, she raised her tiny hand and said in a loud clear voice "I don't like that girl!" Mom asked why, and she said "Tell her to get out of my face!" I am, at point, openly sniggering, and the mom turned to me and said "She's only two, what can you do?" and I said "She has a very definite sense of her personal space!" Mom laughed, and said "What will she be like when she's five?" and I said "Clearly, ruling the world!"
That kid was the only two year old that I have ever seen who could give Molly a run for her money!
Anyway, on Monday I went to work against my better judgement, because I was so tired I wanted to die, but I knew that we were doing a big cheque run, so I had to be there.
Of course, we did not do the cheque run, but anyone could have guessed that that would happen! I certainly would have if I hadn't been so sleep deprived.
Getting dressed for work I realized that two days of mud had completely ruined my shoes.
You see, I always wear the same shoes, my black Easy Spirit flats, and I wear out two pairs a year and I usually get new ones at Christmas and my birthday and throw out the old ones.
Well, my feet were still really hurting, so I didn't think that I could possibly stand to wear another pair of shoes considering that none of them are broken in properly as I only ever wear the others!
And that was when I realized that I had never thrown out the last pair of worn out ones, I had just left them laying on the floor of my room! And now I knew why I had done so--it was because I knew that I would need them them, they being a good deal less worn out that my mud shoes!
I'm sure that it wasn't because I was too bone idle to spend two seconds bending over and pick them up off the floor in six months...
So on Monday after work, Nik and I and Nik's roommate David went to see The Truman Show.
This is a completely astonishing film. It is one of the most horrifying, heartbreaking movies that I have ever seen.
I am 100% with Gabby on this one (though I think she only mentioned it on Whinge and not in an entry), this was not a funny movie at all. I laughed aloud exactly once, the rest of the time I just sat there on the verge of tears with a growing sense of horror.
Nik said afterwards that everytime he looked at me, I just had this look of absolute horror on my face. I know, by the way, that I have used the word "horror" or versions thereof three times in four sentences, but I cannot think of another word that is so right.
I could barely speak when it was over. Just the thought being the only one feeling real things is overwhelming. I want to see it again, but not anytime soon.
Afterwards we were walking to the van (and I had calmed down a bit) when we walked by the fountain at Columbus Circle. Nik looked up at the statue of Columbus and said that the one in Barcelona is bigger, and that reminded me of this great story, but I had to tell it standing right in front of the statue, so I ran over there.
Unfortunately, the wind had blown water all over the pavement and it was slick as hell, and I tripped and heard a "pop" in my ankle like a rifle shot.
I didn't stop, though, I got to the spot and said "I once saw a TV reporter standing right here in this spot asking passersby 'Excuse me, can you please tell me where the statue of Christopher Columbus is?' and they all said 'I don't know!'"
Then I said "And I think I just sprained my fucking ankle!"
And of course, it blew up like a baseball. I've spent enough of my time spraining my ankles in my life to know a good solid sprain when I see one. I went home and told Cynthia and Fran that I had sprained my ankle because I was telling a story, and that I had made certain that I finished the story before reacting in pain, and they laughed and laughed.
I don't think that I have ever done anything so typical in my life.
That moment defines me.
All caught up! Fortunately, Tuesday was completely uneventful, so I won't be a day behind for the rest of my life.
One year ago today:
Stop the presses!
* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *
Logo and graphics and random bodily noises by:
DinoNeil!
This page was written by hand. My hand. Only
pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Wed 17 June 10:04:09 1998