Act natural

( Friday, Jan. 24, 2003 11:03 am )

>Why I cannot leave the country

My entire plan for today entails going to see a movie. The movie in question is The Way Home, not because I was particularly desperate to see it, but because I really felt like seeing a movie today and I'm hardly ever in the mood for a holocaust/WWII movie (The Pianist potty mouth, potty mouth). The thing is, I'm a big fan of escapism in general, going into the city in general, doing things alone in general, and taking my new cute hair on a field trip in particular. (PS mad props to Matt/Pukey Boy for noticing that I had had gotten a haircut before his girlfriend did).

Yesterday I tried to make an outing, but I didn't get too far since I didn't have a really firm purpose in mind and it was really really frickin freezing. I mailed a letter, said hello to the cute mailman, and checked out the selection at the gospel secondhand store, restraining myself from buying two cute chairs. I'm suspicious of buying used upholstered items, although if I think about it, all our furniture at school last year was free, abandoned, and probably twelfth-hand, plus owned by boys, as evidenced by the FHM and Maxim subscription cards under the cushions of the magnificent, broken, eight-foot, greenish couch. Plus I lived with Stinky Pete, so really me and filth are like this (fingers crossed). So anyway, two minutes after leaving the house I returned. Today on the other hand, I have plans. Big plans.

Oh man, so check this: I asked my moms to find my passport and mail it to me. See, I got it when I was 16 and evidently gave it to her for safe keeping (related note: I went with her to have the passport photo taken back in the day, and being 16 and pissed for some reason I refused to smile, hence now I am stuck with a horrendous teenage grumpy passport until I am 26, so let this be a cautionary tale for you, teenagers). But anyway, she sent me an email yesterday to say that she couldn't find it but that she did "find" some other stuff, and this list of things informed me that the places she was looking for my passport were: a)under my bed and b)in my underwear drawer. ARghhhh. I kind of meant for her to look in the safe deposit box, not under my mattress. My room at home is pretty much devoid of anything I wouldn't want her to find, except for a box of old journals that even I can't get to, it's buried so deeply in my closet. Not that they're so risque, but I recall a few entries that were merely lists of why I hated my mother so much. That's pretty harsh. Last time I was home my mother informed me that we're like friends now. This makes her very happy, so I like taking her out to bars and nicknaming her and stuff, 'cause she enjoys it, but let me tell you, if any of my actual friends talked to me like my mom has/does, they would not be my friends. Plus, she likes to tell me about her multitudes of ex-boyfriends, which, even when I'm sober, makes me go buuuuuuuuuullllshiiiiit!

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