michele

this has got to be my new favoritest picture.

so i just made this quiz and you can all go take it! apparently they want a valid email address if you go thru this link:

Take my Quiz on QuizYourFriends.com!

but you can always give a fake one. if you know what i’m saying, wink wink. and yeah yeah i know i emailed the quiz to a whole mess of you already, but i didn’t know at the time that they were going to give me an html link. stoopid stoopid. whatever. go take the quiz! strap on those competitve boots and get to stepping! and then make your own quiz so i have something to do at work tomorrow besides going out to lunch. lunch is only a very small part of the day people. i need more entertainment than that.

this quiz thing has actually come about due to my brother who created one first and then sent it to me. my issue while taking his was that he actually managed to select the WRONG answers to some of his own questions so that then even though i answered them CORRECTLY, i still got them wrong. i was so fucking pissed! i HATE doing badly on tests! and when it’s questions like “where was i born” and i know the answer is not oakland, and “how many tattoos do i have?” and i know it’s 2 and not 3. justifiable pissed-ness. heh. i legitmately missed 2 of the questions, and i suppose an 80% is not baaaad per se, but 60%? i could cry. now all his friends will think his own sister doesn’t know him. i will be a laughingstock. the shame. the humanity. sigh.

i just had a really good lunch at this vietnamese restaurant on shattuck at the corner of addison. so good and cheap too. ummm i had eggplant and tofu with fried rice and it was under $5 and i took home leftovers. ok anyway so i am shamelessly plugging saigon express now. go! eat! be merry! yummm….

and speaking of vietnam. my co-worker, katie, whose birthday it was yesterday and why we went there in the first place, was packed up in a crate at the age of 2 and stowed away on a boat to escape from vietnam with her mother. and not only that but she’s a war baby and they don’t even know her father’s name. how amazing is that? i write about all these little children the other day due to that book, and then discover intimate details of the same sort about someone i actually know.

today on the drive into work, there was a sign on an overpass that said,

“GERBER = BETTER COMMUTE.”

nuala and i sat there for a good 5 seconds in stunned silence.

“gerber….?” we both said.

nuala turns to look at me, “the baby food….?”

unsure of how to proceed in these new environs that i was finding myself in, i responded, “here comes the airplane!” (gestulating hand movements, difficult while driving), “open wide the hangar! …from jar to your baby’s mouth in seconds. Gerber. The better commute.”

voice of reason to my right theorized that maybe it’s a candidate for something. it being voting day after all.

i still find myself confused by this though. who would willingly associate him/herself with baby food? maybe someone who’s only ever bought generic store brands. hmmm….. or who was only fed the runny peas kind as a child and understands the importance of a good commute more than most as a consequence of all the peas running off the airplane-spoon. sad starving gerber-less gerber baby.

so i’m sitting around at kim’s house right now where i am house sitting. for cash. well a check which i have yet to cash at any rate. and when i first walked in the door this evening i was all mad cause i don’t have my pajamas. and i LIKE my pajamas, right? they are soft and fuzzy. and i wanted NOT to be wearing the clothes i was wearing all day. so i’m washing all the dirty dishes from yesterday’s musical meeting and contemplating how i can be wearing comfortable clothes within like 5 minutes tops. now…i can’t steal clothing from kim’s parents cause that’s just wierd. i don’t think kim has any clothes here still and even if she did i bet they wouldn’t fit me since i have given her clothing that no longer fits me. her brother is a fucking stick so that option is pretty much right out. so basically what we’re looking at here are the clothes i wore today and the shirt i took in the car in case we played with pottery tonight before coming home. (we didn’t. no “porn putty” for me tonight.) [this is a fascinating story isn’t it? i know you’re all deeply involved.] right, so i put on the tshirt figuring it’s the best option. it’s really not that great though. removal of the bra quickly follows. but the pants, being not fuzzy and not with a drawstring are still bugging me, so i decide they’ve got to go. but then my ass would be barely be covered by the t-shirt, ok? and it would be cold. so i have to put the huge, hand-me-down button up dress shirt of my dad’s back on before dispensing with the pants. so now that i’m basically wearing a man’s button up shirt, socks, and underwear, i figure it’s time for loud music, sliding across hard wood floors, and whores coming to the door, a la tom cruise’s risky business.

rather than actually CALL any whores though, i decided just to write all this down so you could be reading a fucking striptease. what is wrong with me? this just ain’t right.

with all the wonderful catchphrases in this post though, i bet you i’ll get a lot more disappointed idiots looking for porn. woo-ee, lucky me.

i can’t wait for it to be winter.

don’t complain. i just spent entirely too much time updating the movie reviews page and now i’m worn out.