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.