30 June
So last night I was online and then I got off for a second, and I had a message on my machine and it was Chris, calling at 10.30p asking me if I wanted to go out to a movie at 10.45p.
It was, of course, 11p.
This is the second time he has done this in two weeks--he had called the night of Terry's party at 10p asking if I wanted to go to a movie at midnight.
I called him back and told him that, though I understood how he might want to live the wild and carefree bachelor life, riding that ragged edge of disaster and not making plans until the last possible second, but if he could possibly give me a minimum of four hours notice for a date, I would really appreciate it!
I'm not exactly a Rules Girl, but I do think that 15 minutes notice in the middle of the night is just not on.
I went through the first 200 sites in Open Pages yesterday!
Yes, 200, all by my little lonesome! And I threw out a whole bunch and moved some to the queue and marked down a whole pile of journals who have not updated since May that I will be throwing out violently on Wednesday unless they write something new.
Okay, maybe I'll just queue them...
And Britt, baby, if you still read this, your e-mail bounces like crazy and your site id is wrong in your ring fragment! It should be 108, not 130!
And congrats on the wedding!
Got this e-mail from Snoozebar recently:
' This morning I dreamt that you invited B and me to a party at your apartment. It was in Manhattan and very modern and huge--in addition to your bedroom there were three other bedrooms with double beds in them, all made up like in a bed and breakfast. Very much a "deluxe apartment in the sky."
So I took you aside and apologized if it was too personal a question but asked why, if you could afford such a place, you were working at what seemed like a rather tedious job (Nik not withstanding). And you answered that though it sounded corny, you really didn't want to lose touch with "real people." '
I told her that that was it exactly! She must be psychic...
Man, I was so looking forward to seeing Billy Bragg on Letterman last night, singing one of his new Woody Guthrie songs with Wilco, but it was Wilco singing the song and Billy was just backing them up and it was about the worst song on the album, too.
What a drag.
One year ago today:
White as a supernova, baby.
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Last Updated Tues 30 June 09:53:09 1998