Just had a terrible dream about having my purse stolen. It was really realistic, and right before I woke I was listing all of the things that I had lost, nearly a hundred bucks, all of my movie passes, a couple of rolls of undeveloped film, it really hugely upset me.

Then I woke up, and practically started jumping up and down, "Hooray! Hooray! My purse isn't stolen!!" Man, that's a great feeling. I should have nightmares all the time, I'm gonna be in a swell mood all day.

The other night I went to the supermarket, and I forgot to tell you this story.

The checkout girls and boys who work at 9p on the weekends are not the ones with the seniority, they are usually the high school kids who just started working there, so you get a strong impression of youth and flirting with each other, and a more casual vibe than you get during the day. I dig it myself, I feel like a sociologist, watching the Interactions of the New Jersey Teenager.

I was at the checkout, buying my Smart Ones desserts and my cereal and my soup when this checkout boy, around 17 or so, came up to flirt with my checkout girl, and he looks at me, and says, his voice choked with emotion, "Ma'am?"

I look up, and his eyes are big and his braces are gleaming in the fluorescent light, and he can barely get the words out, pumping his little fists in the air for emphasis, "I just have to tell you...you hair...kicks ass!" "Thank you," I answered, "I agree!"

It was just the cutest little thing you ever did see. Slightly marred by the fact that he called me ma'am, but since I'm twenty years older than he is, it would be unlikely that he would call me anything else.

So last night I was at work, planning on staying late to get about a million checks matched and FedExed out, when there was suddenly an announcement on the overhead:

"Anyone who wants tickets to the Knicks game tonight, come to Suzanne's desk."

I sit rather near Suzanne, so I wandered over and asked who they were playing, and thought what the hell, I'll go, why not? They were playing the Pistons, by the way. I have no particular attachment to the Knicks, but don't mind rooting for them in a pinch.

Not like that game I watched part of on TV the other week, Lakers v. Mavericks, and since both the Lakers and the Mavs are evil, I couldn't manage to root for either of them enough to watch the game properly. It was like Hitler v. Pol Pot, which would you prefer to cheer for? Can you say "Yay Hitler!" and mean it? Well, neither can I say "Go Mavs!" it just ain't happening.

Anyway, I couldn't send out my checks and I had to leave early to get to the game, so I'm going to have to come in today without permission, because both The Raccoon and The Evil Overlord had gone home by that time, so hopefully I will get paid for it anyway. There should be a basketball clause in that rule, anyway.

So I called Cynthia to see if she could come, but she couldn't reach Fran in order to see when he would be going home to relieve the babysitter, and she couldn't come along without being sure that he was actually on his way home, so I ended up going alone.

Not for lack of trying on the part of one of the accountants I work with, who was fair begging to come along, but I really didn't care to spend the evening with someone who makes me slightly uncomfortable, so I just pretended that Cynthia could go.

I got to the Garden pretty much on time, but this time they weren't just glancing in bags and patting down the men, but they were running the metal-detecting wand over everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean tiny children, everyone. There was one hell of a bottleneck, let me tell you.

I finally got to my seat around fifteen minutes after the beginning of the game, my seat being around the same place as last time, I guess we bought them all at once or something. It was kind of sparse in my section, though there was this little kid in front of me with what looked like his grandfather, and the kid had an Allen Houston jersey on, and a Cat-in-the-Hat/Jamiroquoi tall stripey Knicks hat, and a big puffy hand, because the ensemble is not complete without the big puffy hand. He was terrifically entertaining to watch.

This was the first basketball game that I have ever seen where I didn't have a real rooting interest. It's more fun to watch when you are emotionally involved, but on the other hand, it's less exhausting this way, only vaguely cheering for the home team.

Who lost, by the way. Blew a 17 point lead in the first half to lose by 11. There was a lid on the basket, you see. That's what we call it when they just can't sink a basket, it just keep bouncing off the inner rim, and in the first half it was the Piston's basket, and when they change sides at the half, the Knicks inherited the lidded basket and just fell apart.

The only person who did well at that basket was the audience member who came out to shoot for cash--he had a minute to sink five foul shots for $777, and then one shot at half court for $77,777 (I'm not sure what was up with all of the 7s, something having to do with whomever was sponsoring the event), and he did it! It was terribly exciting.

The half-time show was pretty cool, too, a group called the Jesse White Tumblers, and they tumbled alright. About eight or ten guys flying around the floor like paper kites. There was one big chubby guy who started out holding another guy up so that the other guys could leap over them like young gazelles, and the guy behind me made some remark about how he probably wouldn't be tumbling, and not thirty seconds later he was flip-flapping across the mat like a pinwheel. It was just great. It really got the crowd going, especially when they brought out the cheerleaders so that they could leap over a line of them.

Even the people not into the tumbling were well pleased by the lineup of cheerleader ass.

Anyway, it was an entertaining evening out, not to mention free, and a swell start to the weekend. Thanks, Knicks! Thanks, Pistons! Thanks, Company That Must Not Be Named!"

Today's horoscope:
Tread gently with loved ones today. Criticism may be a problem-- from you or from them. Channel nit-picking energy into work.

One year ago today:
"The worst thing that could possibly happen is that we drop out of Sunday night's performance, and that's not a bad thing at all, because there are four other one acts in the evening and it should be long enough without us!"

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Graphics by the sweet and lovely Saundra!

This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Fri 1 February 15:08:09 2002