Last night Adam and I and our friend T. (Adam has nicknamed her Tarajuana, a very accurate nickname for a cute little hippie) and her new guy Silent B. (he said 5 words the whole night--shyness? disdain for us? the world may never know) went downtown to the Ritz-Carlton to hear Ingrid Lucia sing. She sort of does a Billie Holiday imitation which is fun at first but then kind of grating. If you've ever heard David Sedaris do his Billie Holiday impersonation on NPR, it's not entirely unlike that. But it did sort of allow me to live out my fantasy of being in 1941 for a few minutes. So that was good.
Crazy news--my roommate is leaving in just a couple of weeks, and by the time she gets back, I'll have already left N.O. (I'm leaving around Aug. 7 to go home and help out w/ my ailing grandmother for a couple of weeks, and give my mom a break, and also to visit w/ my parents before I head out to the west coast again.) She works as a chef at the Ritz-Carlton, so she's going to go work at this resort Ritz in the north Georgia mountains, and make a lot of money and live in the 5-star hotel. Fancy. Things won't actually be much different around the house, since she works the night shift and I pretty much never see her anyway. But still. I'll miss her.
The other, more selfish problem is that I wonder what she's going to do with her dog all that time. I don't want to be stuck with her bad, bad dog. I'm already pretty much the dog's primary caregiver, but I don't want to not be able to go away on the weekends and stuff. I guess we'll have to have her put down.*
*That was a joke, for all you dog-lovers out there. We won't put her down--we'll probably just set her free.
Design by Soapboxdiner, modified by Red Dirt Girl.
Copyright � 2002-2005.