- i'd bounce around europe for a long time.
- i'd buy a old, gloriously decrepit property and just.. let it crumble and rot, so no one else can knock it down and put a goddamn parking lot over it.
- i'd make and market a vibrating toy that didn't have a fucking animal on it. apparently i am the only sexual woman on the planet who thinks the whole idea is creepy and gross. get back in the zoo where you belong and stay the fuck away from my cooter.
now, for my next trick, i shall attempt to write a blog entry whilst eating a lime popsicle. observe!
Jhonen Vasquez rolled into town today. being the drooling, nihilstic fangrrl that i am, i thought, 'i must get something signed by him.' and then i said, to my sister, out loud, 'i must get something signed by him.' she agreed, but when i did recon on the swarming mass of goth outside chicago comics, i left a message telling her not to bother. poor dear has to work the boiler or w/e at starfucks at the crack of dorchester tomorrow. (yes, there's a 4:30 in the morning now.)
but hey, this is MY blog, and we're here to talk about ME. (popsicle gettin' mega drippy.. whoop, there we go, all in the mouth.. cue brain freezy) i wasn't about to let things go down just like that. *i* was the one who had the comics and enjoyed every dirty, homicidal, antisocial bit of them. so i waited in line. and waited. and got rained on a little. and waited. and waited. and talked to some cool people behind me. everyone was pretty cool, actually; it was the douchebags in my über-trendy neighborhood yelling 'what are you guys waiting for??? what's going on??' across the street that once again reduced my faith in humanity to a quivering blob.
all told, i waited the whole scheduled two hours of the signing. and there were still plenty behind me when i finally got to The Man himself. said Man was sitting behind the counter, looking surprisingly normal for what evil comes out of his head: glasses, purple mohawk. like you do. we shared a brief snippet of conversation, which revolved around him not drinking. a non-drinker! i marvelled at such a rare thing, like a bug with two anterior appendages. more power to him. and that was that; ten seconds max, i'd say. it was worth it, for i knew what i was getting into.. i knew it'd be a cluster, that there'd be mad fanbois and freaky goths (some of the chicks were smokin' hot, too), that i'd touch only briefly upon JV's world and he upon mine, at least in person. but, i came out of it with signed swag and a spooky doll. squee!
so i had this dream last night. the whole thing played out like a TV episode. i worked at a job not unlike my current one, only i worked with Paul Rudd. i've held Paul Rudd in the 'awesome' category probably since 'Clueless.' there's just something i've always really liked about him.. and he's cute as all get-out to boot.
anyway, in that gossamer haze that is a dream backstory, we'd worked together for some time and kinda sorta had the hots for each other, but never consummated the sexual tension. i'd had this condom (toxic green plastic wrapper) in my pocket for a while and noticed that the expiration date on it was today. so, we figured, what the hell? no sense letting it go to waste...except we couldn't find any place at work to do the nasty. even in closable rooms, doors were flung open without even a knock; it was that kind of environment.
as so often happens, the geography of my workplace changed from a downtown highrise to a single-story U-shaped school type building. we managed to stake out a secluded place in what happened to be the chairman/principal's office. i closed the blinds, he got naked (!; i remained clothed), we held each other, and.. he sang to me. motherfucker sang to me. i was all down for the sex, and he ended up holding me and singing.
my brain fucking hates me.
in the end, though, we were interrupted before we could go any further by the principal and some other headmaster douchebags barging in, not entirely unamused. i think it ended in typical TV show fashion with the headmasters and Mr. Rudd gathered at a round table, with him singing to them, since they liked his singing so much. thankfully everyone was fully dressed.. so i guess my brain doesn't hate me that much.
*spaces out and thinks of dream-paul's warm flesh beneath her hands* yes, it does. fuck.
good idea: entering a ticket giveaway contest on a whim. chicagoist held a write-in contest for the touch and go records 25th anniversary/hideout 10th annual block party, and i fucking won. now i don't have to say 'well my mom thinks i'm a winner' anymore. i'm one of three who gets a three-day pass to the whole shebang. more black heart procession, and my new best friend, pinback. (check them out, go, nownownow. they're the reason i won the flippin' contest.) plus some more acts i've probably heard of at some point. that's all i care about right now, but now i gots some serious research to do...
bad idea: watching 'session 9' right before bed. what the fuck was i thinking?? when am i gonna fucking learn??
the boi left today. the temp boi, that is. the one who did data entry at my work for a few weeks during the summer. the one who wants to become a music critic and was even enveloped by pitchfork during his stay with us. the one who listened to his elvis costello and spoon and girl talk while i listened to my balding yuppie coworkers yammer on about golf. the one who didn't start out so cute but got steadily cuter as time wore on, as we had more snarky, knowing conversations. the only one i felt really comfortable talking to, at least until i felt a crush coming on. the one who had so many friends he didn't know what to do with them all, while i wondered what it would be like to be part of his circle without knowing how to be so.
it's not so much the fact that we didn't really hang out (though he showed up at the starlight mints show) or that he didn't seem 'into' me. it's the possibility that he represented, the thought that no, i don't have to languish in this stupid, money-grubbing, single-minded field forever. i can do something that i really want to do, involve myself in things i actually care about very deeply. he was like the proverbial stranger who blows into town with the evening shade, rearranges that town's perceptions utterly, then quietly drifts on. sigh.. i'm being dramatic again. but with a driving force gone, i fear my desire to break out into a place for me will slowly wither and collapse again... i wish him all the luck in the world.
they're spreading new tar on the parking lot next to my complex. mmmm, tar. i'm including that in my new line of candle scents, along with singed hair and chloroform.
blogs are a catch 22. when i'm doing lots of blog-worthy stuff, i don't feel like sitting down and writing about it. the only times i feel like blogging is when i have nothing else better to do...in other words, when i have no material. eh.
this weekend i managed to walk two miles (roundtrip) for three ingredients to make a one-person fondue. i hate not having a store nearby. it turned out pretty good, though, so i guess it was worth it, what with the exercise and the nice weather and all. i also managed to completely forget about the Arks playing a show saturday night. i swear to god i'm going to see you guys play with Glenn one of these days. (sorry...) i was bored out of my skull, too. serves me right, for some reason i'm sure is valid, on some cosmic plane.
going to see black heart procession tonight. very jazzed. my only caveat is that i'll be going by myself, which is the usual chain of events when it comes to music i really want to see. it doesn't happen very often, which makes things even worse. i even put an ad on craigslist, the last bastion of companionship. i got a grand total of two responses - one time i posted at midnight on a saturday and got roughly a hundred - neither of which knew the band, which was kind of my only criteria. eh.. i'ma roll up into a big ball of self-pity now and roll away.
ps - just watched bhp's video for 'guess i'll forget you.' there's no reason why a song that depressing should have a video that funny. it's just not fair.
