*Getting very excited about new assignments from two local magazines, and a potentially big new project with a writing partner.*Lunch with three vegetarians at (of all places) Hamburger Mary's.
*Writing tons of new stand-up material.
*Helping to paint Sloan's new apartment (and by that I mean lounging on her futon, tapping away on my laptop as she slathers gallon after gallon of bright beautiful yellow on the walls of her new sunroom).*Post-painting celebratory caramel apple martinis at Marty's.
*Riding my (finally spring-ready) bike to see a friend guest-sing with the Delafields at Simon's Tavern. (Yes, he did rock. Rather hard.) Interrupting his bartop doodling to request a "mermaid with swimmer's arms, like mine" (at left). Marveling at the mermaid's merboobs.*Continuing to wrestle with expandable posts in Blogger, going so far as to actually dream in HTML, and still not figuring it out. Also struggling with logging into the new Flick account I set up to start sharing photos online. Sometimes I am a frustrated nerd.
*Appreciating the beautiful view of Lake Michigan from my new apartment. No longer whining about my ancient and food-freezing fridge because my building unexpectedly sent up a brand new one. (No, really, food-freezing. Ever seen a jar of pickles frozen solid? It's a little creepy.)*Thinking about actually sprucing up my home a bit with some paint and some shelves, instead of continuing to live in the "one foot out the door, I'm not going to be here that long, anyway" frame of mind.
7 comments:
I think you just wrote my epitaph. One less thing to worry about. Thanks!
"Yes, he did rock. Rather hard."
That's going to be your epitaph? Well, it is succinct and bad-ass. I suppose the succinct part is very important if you want it to fit on an actual grave marker.
Are you sure you wouldn't rather be shot into space like James Doohan?
Or have your DNA deciphered, translated into binary and transmitted into the depths of space, to be discovered at some unimaginably distant point in the future, and then used to reassemble you into fleshly form, to serve as some sort of resurrected savior figure for well-intended but overly credulous two-dimensional aliens?
Okay, maybe that's a little too conventional a choice for you.
You. Are. SUCH. A. GEEK.
Shot into space would be cool...the simple version. I can't handle the pressure of the other. I'll follow Scotty. (Timothy Leary, too. Did I tell you the T.L. t-shirt story?)
"You. Are. SUCH. A. GEEK."
Don't make me say that it takes one to know one.
And don't make me point out that once they reach maturity, geeks actually ROCK, and, by some measures, rule the world.
And I think I have heard the T. Leary t-shirt story, but the details elude me at the moment. You'll have to refresh my memory later.
Scotty- Aim for the stars and you'll end up on a NM mountain.
Scotty's last adventure: crash-landing in an hostile environment. He'll pull through.
("...wadded up under a tree." Ouch)
Oh, crap, I had forgotten about that. Poor Scotty. Well, poor Scotty's ashes. Well, we'll all be stardust again at some point, it will just take a little longer for him, I guess.
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