Word of Advice to the Cute Clerk at Barnes & Noble
First off, snaps on the outfit. It's cute, flattering, and I might consider trading a pinkie toe to be a tan, elegant-looking size four with great taste in clothes (ok, not really). Howevah...you may want to reevaluate your decision to wear a black thong under that basically-transparent floaty white peasant skirt.
I Didn't Know He Was Serious
I finally got around to checking out Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. I've heard / read them mentioned enough in the last few months to pique my curiosity, and the public library had a few of their CDs. I took Murder Ballads to work today (my boss was out) and got through two or three songs before I decided to check the lyrics sheet. Sure enough, every damn song on the CD is about murder (except for the few that are just about death, with non-specified causes). Some are sort of rollicking and fun in a fucked-up way (like "Stagger Lee") and some are sort of enjoyably melancholic ("Henry Lee"...no apparent relation to Mr. Stagger Lee). Some are creepy, like "The Kindness of Strangers," which features a woman quietly crying in the background. And some are just plain disturbing.
I guess I was warned. I mean, the title of the CD is Murder Ballads. But I didn't realize he really meant it.
I'm Not a Vegan, But Yum:
Vegan Lunch Box
Goodbye, Old Friend
Until last Thursday, this was my phone:
Oh, how I loved my tiny yellow phone. It was very me, and I had carefully entered all bazillion phone numbers I could never remember into it, and downloaded all the games I wanted, and found the perfect Led Zeppelin ringtone. I had all the settings adjusted properly. Then, my phone started dropping calls. I let it go for a few weeks, but then one day I received five phone calls and couldn't answer a single one. I vented to MB about it, and the next thing I know, we're at the Cingular store looking for anything that's not a flip phone and doesn't cost more than $100 (because, seriously, when I drop it and it bounces under my car in the parking lot, I don't want to think about that much money skidding across the asphalt as I crawl under there to retrieve it).
We picked out the ONLY non-flip, non-mp3-playing / internet-eager / camera / hookah & coffee maker phone they had. MB calls it a cellphone for idiots since it's bare bones with no bells or whistles or Bluetooth bits (Blueteeth?). It does not come in yellow. My Led Zeppelin ringtone, lovingly selected and never-tired-of, is no longer available. I weep, yellow phone. I weep for thee.
We went on quite a spending spree last Thursday. It was rather unnerving. Usually MB is the careful one who saves as much as possible and keeps TWO budget spreadsheets and balances the checkbook to the penny. I'm the one who hasn't balanced a checkbook since, oh, 2001, who falls victim to the Target Vortex every time, and who says things like "A hoodie that says GEEK across the front? That is SO WORTH $25!"
However, on Thursday, I was the one fretting and MB was the one taking us not only to get new phones, but to get a brand spanking new tent. Apparently he was harboring a grudge against the tent we already owned because it leaked (a lot) during the Noahtian Deluge (is that even a word? Hell, it is now!) of 2006 that he experienced in Missouri while I was kayaking on the St. Francis.
So we laid down almost $300 for these spiff-dandy new digs (with accessories):
Unfortunately for me (but fortunately for our bank account), the sticker shock seemed to snap MB out of his temporary lapse. I should've acted more quickly and secured a few more bookcases, or at least some of those modular shoe shelf things for behind the couch, because good Lord:
I still lament my decision to be responsible and forego the hoodie.
Reading: Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich, Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett
Playing: Show Your Bones by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (which isn't even about skeletons. Psshht!)