|where the hell is my Feelies CD?
||[Feb. 17th, 2005|11:48 pm]
|||||not the Feelies||]|
I was all in the mood for something energetic yet vaguely pastoral, but I am unable to find "Only Life." Must be in the car. If pressured, I will admit that there are worse problems to have than not being able to put my hand to a certain CD while still having a pretty good idea where it is. Anyway, it's a great album, when I'm in the same room with it. I've been going through a pretty heavy "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" phase, too.
The other day, a friend of mine e-mailed me to ask, "If I were to have heard that someone you met somewhere thought you were cute, should I tell you about it?" The answer to which, by the way, if you're curious, is usually "yes." In my case, it's "yes, as often as possible," what with my famously huge ego and all. So it turns out that the friend who posed this question works with a woman who recently, with yet another friend, came to a "game night" party that I also attended. I just spent about five minutes writing that last sentence in my head (even going back after I posted to edit it once), and I honestly couldn't get it to make any more sense than that syntactically. Anyway, it's the twice-removed friend who apparently thinks I'm cute (the friend of the co-worker of my friend who e-mailed me way back at the beginning of this paragraph). I remember her from the party, and I thought she was cute, too. Well, I'm not quite sure which one she was -- her or her friend -- but they were both cute, so it's good news either way. (In fact, I remarked upon them to the hostess of the party -- the famous M! who I think I'm mostly over being secretly in love with.) So, my friend is currently moving through back channels to get my e-mail address to the person who is of the opinion that I'm cute.
You know, even if nothing comes of this... well, dang. It's never bad to hear that somebody finds you cute. We were playing "Cranium" that night, so I got to show off some of my freakish savant-like command of trivia.
Hey, speakinawhich, I just updated my deal on match.com -- my profile name is my first initial and my last name (which lacks originality, but makes it up by virtue of my being able to remember it), so if you want to gawk at it, be my guest. I'm always curious how it comes across. For the record, I'm going for "charming and endearing," not "pathetic and creepy."
It's been a while since I had my hair cut; I usually wear it pretty short. (By the way, there's no logical transition from the previous paragraph to this one.) My hair doesn't lengthen so much as it... expands. As each day goes by, I look more and more like Jack Lord.
Imagine my delight to discover that on Saturdays, my local PBS station -- which is the one station that I receive with crystal clarity -- shows reruns of The Joy of Painting starring Bob Ross, who was very probably the world's most comforting man. (Yes, I'm including Mr. Rogers.) Can it be a coincidence that the Target menswear department now stocks a Bob Ross Happy Trees T-shirt? I really want to believe that the late Mr. Ross was as kind and good a man as he comes across as. If it turns out that he's a pederast or something, I really don't want to know about it, so don't tell me.
If I'm going to get a walk in before work tomorrow, which I'm thinking now I might want to, I'd best be headed bedward soon. And so, good night.