Act natural

( Sunday, Mar. 30, 2003 1:15 pm )

>A glass of ale, a bowl of Lucky Charms, and thou

Gosh, it's been a long time since I updated. Work has so far been OK--slightly mind-numbing, but it has potential. I like it when occasionally my finely honed trivia skills come into play, like when I miraculously know what book some maniac is talking about even though they don't remember the title or the author. Idiot savant.

I've recently completed the coldest, wettest, most pathetic Walk of Shame ever--there was a sort of weather change in the night, and I never watch the weather forecasts or show foresight of any sort (plus I have yet to replace the umbrella I lost at the Four Seasons back in September--the one stolen by Elton John). At least I wasn't wearing, like, a sequined dress and heels, though I did have on the same clothes as the day before, including the very wrinkly shirt that I slept in. Hadn't even showered either, since I didn't want to have wet hair at Fake Church this morning. Such a hussy!

So that was the first time I'd slept over at Call's (second sleep over ever, on the lifetime count). It was nice. His apartment is appealingly guy-like and unadorned, not too well cleaned or comfortable or anything. Plus, after the usual funny business, we talked Simpsons and watched South Park. Boys, huh? You wouldn't think that sort of evening would make me feel like I was one of the guys, just hanging out, but it did. Last night after work we went out for food and then out for Belgian beer. We watched the weather channel and ate Lucky Charms this morning.

Moment of concern: I just could not quite get off. Not close actually. I have no idea why, cause usually I'm a cinch. Nevertheless, there were some enjoyable moments for me, many of which recurred to me at inappropriate moments in church this morning.

And speaking of church, hoo boy. My old friend, the faux-minister and killer of Beatles tunes, was playing a prominent role in the service again, which always bodes ill. Sure enough, at the end of a sermon recounting the joys of dancing around like a spaz at Greatful Dead shows (this sermon reminded me strongly of my old housemate Stinky, though she was not a Dead fan), she shed her clerical-type robe to reveal...a belly-dancing outfit. And then she shook what her mama gave her. Church is her own personal amateur hour. So sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't (church, I mean). I had some better moments reading Everything is Illuminated in the coffee place beforehand: about the girl Brod being a genius of sadness. That was churchier than church.

This Thursday I'm going to a little event with Call which'll be scarily our first outing together amongst the science geeks. That should be interesting. I'm sure they all know we're going out though, the gossip grapevine being what it is among them.

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