Because I am such a spoiled A/C Ho as of late, I was up at the crack of dawn.
It’s been so hott for so long, I haven’t even considered turning the A/C off and opening the windows. I’ve relegated myself to keeping the apartment as airtight as any good bio-dome. And being sealed off from the world with my closed drapes and windows, I’ve forgotten how freaking loud it is in the morning.
Especially when they’re building a new goddamn band-shell across the street.
Yeah, I know. I am all for music (last summer I could open the windows and hear The Community Orchestra’s variations of LaBamba – and sing along with the Oh Cap-ee-tan! Oh Cap-ee-tan! parts) but the little wooded area across the way, with it’s little cleared stage area and quaint rickety-wooden benches weren’t GOOD ENOUGH for this particular Tax Base.
No, they had to spend more money and build a band shell with fancy-pants stadium seating.
And guess what? Construction starts at 6am. And I know it’s crazy, but that beep! Beep! Beep! Coming from the ‘dozer as it backs up is remarkably similar to that of an alarm clock.
A big old two-ton alarm clock that goes off every seven minutes and is without the very important snooze feature.
So, I had the windows open and it woke me up. Good morning, starshines.
I am really not all that cranky about the whole thing. I wanted to sleep in, but getting up at 6am makes the two hours lounging and drinking coffee and reading much more justified, because once I’ve had my fill of that – it’s only 8am! There’s very little “weekend wasted” guilt that goes along with that.
So, for you, an ann-frank to-do’s that have already been done and random thoughts on the side list:
1. Took long stroll and the handholding dog walkers were out in full force this morning, I tell you.
2. Still haven’t mustered up the courage to bring along bread to feed the ducks on said walks. As previously stated, I am just too young to become The Neighborhood Bitter Old Lady Who Feeds the Ducks.
But I already have my park bench picked out should that happen.
3. Fantasized about dying as Bitter Old Lady, where I spend the rest of my time in limbo, haunting said park bench, chucking bread crumbs at hand-holding dog walkers and allowing only nice, young, single ladies who like to read in the sunshine to sit on said bench.
4. Also had random day-dream where I commandeer a paddleboat and refuse to paddle back to the pond-shore until my demands (including government subsidized tampons for all ladies!) are met.
5. during walk, returned books, CD’s and videos to the library where I was immediately overcome with Drop Box Anxiety. Does this happen to anyone else? Where upon dropping something into a return box, or a mail box, even though checking a million times and being very, very careful, you immediately think: oh my god, did I (a) put the wrong video in the box? (b) leave a bank-statement turned bookmark in between the pages of the novel? (c) put the wrong CD in the CD case? (b) forget to put postage on the envelope?
Well, I know it seems silly but my fears are not unwarranted having done both c and d in the past. Just recently, I forgot to put postage on the envelope for my car payment. In addition, I didn’t put a return address on the envelope for like, the first. Time. Ever. And the kid who came to pick up the mail (not even a real postperson! Just some kids in cargo shorts and a chain wallet and keys to the mailtruck!) wouldn’t give it back when I staked out the mailbox for the 2pm pick-up. What a punk! (okay really, I don’t blame him. Personally, if I am going down for a federal offense, it sure as hell isn’t going to be mail fraud)
The CD in the wrong CD case is a whole other story. The people at the library put a red flag on my account and a note that said “patron returned own CD in library’s CD case”. But they couldn’t find my CD anywhere, even though the note said they had it. And they didn’t even know which CD it was!
Hint for my local PL: please next time, just don’t even tell me. As I have been obsessed for months which CD it might have been (all fingers point to JSBX “orange” but I can’t be sure. Next time, don’t tell me unless you can return it to me, otherwise I will obsess. Let me think I lost it all on my own, thank you.
6. Steve Winwood. Who let that happen?
7. Someone forgot to turn off the outside patio speakers at the Bar N’ Grill down the street last night, because as I walked by early this morning, Billy Squire’s “Stroke Me” was screaming from the speakers, serenading the empty patio and it’s plastic furniture. And while I thought this was hysterical, judging from annoyed looks from the handholding dog walkers, not many appreciate public masturbatorial references that early in the morning, I guess.
8. Since when have the kids working the music register at the Barnes and Noble been allowed to take on the air of music snobbery? I mean, c’mon kids, I am sure you have the best parts of High Fidelitymemorized, but you are working for a huge. fucking. corporation. Let’s be real here.
9. ann-frank’s latest moneymaking scheme for ’03: Tattoo Removal Parlor.
You bet your ass there’s a ton of people my age with Tattoo Regret.
And I just the sort of bastard who would capitalize on it.
I mean, c’mon, consider the early 90’s. The time of grunge music, dirty fashion and a record numbers of Bad Tattoos being served up to any kid with a fistful of bills and a hankerin’ for Spin Magazine Approved Rebellion.
And now, with those youngsters of the early 90’s now all grown up having kids and looking for mortgages - Tattoo Removal Clinic promises to be the cash cow that will most certainly lead me to financial freedom!
Yes, Buffy, I am sure getting that Calvin and Hobbes on yer ass seemed like a good idea back during Spring Break ’94, but isn’t it time?
Only rule: anyone with NIN anywhere on his or her body is out of luck.
Okay, not really – but I may have to charge double because, honestly, shouldn’t you have known better?
p.s. if anyone has extra tickets to either Sonic Youth show at the Metro in Chicago they are willing to part with at a reasonable price, lemme know. k?
* confession inspired by rudey's guestbook comment: I have a tattoo, yes I do. It's tiny and discreet and it's something I drew, so there's not regret, yet. But just so you know, I'm right there with my peers.