So far, today has been hilarious.
To begin with (although this part isn't all that hilarious, I admit), I overslept by about an hour because my cell phone, which is also my alarm clock, won't do the "snooze" feature anymore for some reason. I am no good without the snooze, which I guess means that I am finally going to have to bite the bullet and spend $10 on an actual alarm clock.
So I was rushing around trying to get out the door and then, my hairdryer caught on fire. And when I say "caught on fire," I mean that flames were leaping up from the inside of the thing and threatening to burn my hand off. I tried to turn off the dryer: no dice. I tried to unplug it, but sparks--and then flames--started coming out of the wall socket.
I finally did manage to wrench the plug out of the socket without doing myself any irrepairable damage, but I don't think my apartment is ever going to smell the same. And I may be air-drying for a while.
So I got to work. (Only ten minutes late, by the way, despite sleeping in the extra hour. Where do those fifty mintues go every morning? I really have to look into this.) I had a pretty interesting email morning, read my diaries, etc. etc., and then I went to check and see how all my favorite stalkers on Friendster were doing.
I noticed that I had less friendsters today than yesterday, but I couldn't figure out who was missing until Danny finally pinpointed it. It seems that someone that I have been trying (as nicely as possible) to cut out of my life for months, but who keeps elbowing his way back in, has dumped me on friendster.
Ouch! Guess he showed me!
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One of the women in the office (the one who has earned my undying gratitude for hooking me up w/ videos of "Queer Eye") was supposed to go see Norah Jones with Monkey last night, but she decided that she wanted to take a beading class instead, so she gave me her ticket.
I am not Norah's biggest fan, maybe, but I like her fine, especially that one really sappy song about the tin roof and stuff. It was a very Adult Contemporary crowd; lots of women in what Claire always referred to as "flowy lesbian clothes," and other white folks who generally looked like they would be able to pick out Noah Adams and Bob Edwards in a line-up. There were also a lot of fathers there with their 11-year-old daughters, curled up together on the grass and singing along to every single song, which was just about cute enough to break your heart.
It rained, so Monkey, her future sister-in-law K, and I huddled together for warmth. It was quite romantic.
Monkey is trying to get me to go gay. It's too late for her, as she is engaged and therefore doomed, but I can still switch teams, she says, if I just try hard enough.
In the one-hour period between my alarm going off and me finally getting up, I dreamed that I was engaged to someone I didn't love (which is actually a recurring dream of mine), and also that I was pregnant.
In the dream, I was completely miserable and terrified until I realized that I didn't have to get married! I could just have the baby by myself! And then it was actually kind of a nice dream and I pretty much just set about picking out baby clothes and stuff.
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