Thursday, Feb. 24, 2005 - 7:56 p.m.
The new Mogwai album is awesome. They'd never appealed to me before -- they always seemed neat but too sterile. Then twice this week I heard the first song from the new album on the radio, and both times I had to stay in my car until it was over. So I bought it yesterday when it came out, and it is so beautiful.
My favorite event this week
A girl stepped out of the car in front of me at a stoplight and carefully placed an enormous chainsaw on the median. She ran back to her car. A car going the opposite direction stopped suddenly. Another woman got out, picked up the chainsaw, handed it to the people in her backseat, and got back in her car. Both cars drove away.
I now have red toenails, which means it is spring.
Remember my bike? It was almost fixed up and ready to ride, but when I moved in with L, the control chain for the hub gear got smashed and I haven't ordered a new one. Today I found some on Ebay, so hopefully the bike will soon be in working order.
I rode the bike around the block yesterday to see what else it needs to be in riding shape (answer: brake adjustment), and I got all weak and shaky. Granted, there was a hill, and without a control chain the bike was in its highest gear, but it wasn't a steep hill. I am annoyed -- I walk almost every day up and down steep hills, and I do so rapidly. I am a low-altitude-living, office-job-working, no-longer-hiking, very-little-rocking lame-o. This must change.
In related news
L and I are reining in the eating of such ridiculous foods as lemon meringue pie, steak, and Girl Scout cookies. The holidays got a little out of hand this year, by which I mean they are still going on, and we are both looking rather chubby. So far our beer consumption is unaffected, but that may have to come down as well.
Season Six of Buffy
Is bumming me out. It's fantastic, it's abysmal, it's beautiful again, it's crappy again. You get your Doublemeat Palace and your Once More With Feeling, and then you get your Wrecked and your As You Were. I feel like I am dating someone with bipolar disorder who has just learned in fifth grade English class what a metaphor is.*
*That is a metaphor.
All you wonderful people
Are wonderful. Seriously, thank you for the good things you've said to me in the guestbook and by email this past week and before that. I am so lucky to know all of you.
I have two new coworkers who talk all day long. Sometimes I tune in briefly to what they are saying. The result? Here is an email I sent L today:
The history of Western music, as told by my coworkers:
C1: I grew up with disco, and I love it...[long story about dancing to disco
at Girl Scout slumber parties]...I'm so sad it's gone.
C2: It turned -- people started listening to Blondie...
C1: Yeah, Blondie, and the other, the what do you call it...
C2: The punk rock.
C1: Yes, the punk rock. And from there it went to the really hard rock with
Poison and Whitesnake. My brother used to listen to that stuff, the hard rock.
C2: I miss Olivia Newton-John.
And there you have it.
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