|
Hey Baby. Nice Rack! |
Go Back |
| Here,
in brief, is the story of my weekend.
On Thursday night, Tim and Matt and I went out to dinner (Mo’s in Burbank) and a movie (Shanghai Noon, review you-know-where). It was a total blast. (I have to say: I want someone to give me a written guarantee that I will never have to see Rocky and Bullwinkle. Despite the fact that it has a flying squirrel and Renee Russo in it, it looks like the stupidest movie on earth. In the trailer, Bullwinkle crashes into something and says, “Can I use a lifeline?” or something like that. Oooh, Millionaire humor. THAT’S topical. Blech.) Oh Friday… hmm, what did I do? Oh, I worked on the computer. I scanned in some pictures and worked on some writing projects. I also caught up on e-mail and stuff. Matt became re-addicted to Final Fantasy, and played it long into the night, giving me as much computer time as I wanted. We ordered pizza. On Saturday, we basically did the same kind of nothing. All day. Matt continued to play with his Playstation. I worked on my scrapbook. I also put together the photo contest (the photo contest page was down today but it's back up... please enter) did some job hunting, read a bunch of journals and most importantly, made a whole lot of progress on my new journal site. (Which is coming July 1. Have I mentioned that? Oh, I have? Oh, okay.) By the end of the day, it sure felt like I had spent the day working. So I enjoyed my little venture out to get more scrapbook pages and a sandwich from Togos. On Sunday, I think we were both tempted to continue the doing nothing trend, but we decided to head out to the Gay Pride festival with Abby and Lucy instead. I figured it would be good to get out of the apartment. On the way there, my car started making bizarre grinding noises and smelling like rubber. We paid the $10 to park and walked (a couple of miles maybe?) down the parade route. I was in a cranky mood because of my car and because I had stuff I wanted to accomplish later that day. If we were going to get our money’s worth out of the entrance fee, we would be there all damn day. Plus, it was really hot and I was wearing sandals that were bothering my feet. I was grumpy, in other words. Rather than pay the $12 each to get into the festival proper, Matt and I just watched the parade, socialized a little and headed back. As it was, it was nice to get outside and walk around, and the atmosphere at Pride is fun no matter what. So I felt we made a good choice. Danielle and Phil were in the parade, driving by in the Disney float. (Bruce had to work.) Danielle had gay men running out of the crowd to hug her every five feet. “Hey Lance!” “Hello Mitchell” “Hi Sweetie!” and when she saw us, she blew kisses and waved. It looked like fun, actually. Next year, we’re going to have the Fag Hag of the Century float, and we’ll crown her the queen. Then I rushed home to work on my scrapbook some more, which I wanted to show to my parents when I went over there later. and got all the way up to Olympia before I realized I had skipped Barcelona entirely… oops. That’s as far as I got, but I’m happy with what I have so far. We headed to my parents’ house as planned, and I showed them pictures and brought gifts. They were thrilled. I brought my dad a street performer’s tape of Spanish classical guitar music, from Barcelona. He actually knew some of the songs on the tape! I also gave him a nautical T-shirt, which he proudly showed off. My mother got a wall hanging of Athena, but her favorite gift was a small silver vial holding some holy water from the house of the Virgin Mary. We then went into the jacuzzi for a while—my parents have a great hot tub that seats like seven people. It’s got a bench, a loveseat, two chairs and a couch. It was a nice relaxing ending to an overall relaxing weekend.
And now I’m back at work, with a million things on my to do list. On the plus side, the Crazy Dog Lady has the week off. On the minus side, Candy and Ralph are both in the office. They’ve been mostly not here for the past two weeks because they’ve been moving. Which, I’m starting to discover, can be a real production. There have been developments on that front, by the way. I got some paperwork from my school this weekend regarding financial aid. The good news here is that I’m going to be able to get a loan for $5,000 more than the amount of my tuition. That’s $5,000 towards my expenses, which thrills me to no end. Of course, that money could be gone in the blink of an eye just in the process of moving. I’m now trying to plan how to divide my possessions. Some of them will most likely be staying in the apartment (the large refrigerator for instance, and my huge bookshelf). I’ll have to take some stuff with me that Matt and Tyler will have to replace: my microwave, my VCR, my sister’s portable CD player. I’ll have to buy or borrow a TV (and somehow resist buying a DVD player and a decent stereo at the same time). And then I’ll be bringing my main furniture: my “clam” futon, my dresser, a desk. I also have to decide what to put in long term storage (at my parents’ house probably) in terms of books and stuffed animals and files. Leaving books behind is going to be the hardest part, I think. I’m also going to ditch a bunch of clothes and books and have a moving sale. That will help me out financially (at least a little) and I don’t plan on wearing the vast majority of my ugly, annoying corporate wardrobe ever again.
One thing I’m not leaving behind is my spice rack. The spice rack and I have a colorful history. When I first moved into this apartment, some of my mother’s friends were in the process of moving out of their house onto a boat. We were able to buy some furniture from them, including a dresser and a desk. That’s where I first saw the spice rack. Yes, the spice rack. Well, one of the things I got from them was an old wooden spice rack, which I paid $10 for. The frame was ugly brown wood, and the bottles had ugly brown tops on them. They were glass though, and nicely shaped, and I had a sudden idea for a creative project. I had already decided on my bedroom color scheme: black and teal, with an accent color of pale yellow. So I went to the craft store and bought paint in those three colors, and a bunch of assorted odds and ends. I painted the frame teal, and the tops of the bottles black. I painted some wooden beads and styrofoam balls, and filled the bottles with them. I also used sand, glitter, buttons, sequins, marbles… anything I could find, really, that fit with the color scheme. When the spice rack was done, I hung it proudly on my wall and took a picture of it. It’s still the central decoration on my bedroom wall.
Some months later, Matthew was trying to pay me a compliment. “I love you, Mo mo. I love your ideas, you know? I love your creativity…. I mean, uh… what I’m trying to say is, I love… I love… ...your spice rack.” It’s still one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten. |
marku:
 What I'm Reading: Too busy writing to read. happy dance chartreuseJournal Quote of the Day: “Here's how big of a dork I am: the doctor leaves the room so I can get all situated. As I take off my pants, place the paper square over my lap and ease into the stirrups, all I can think is, "Oh, I hope my feet don't smell."Random Tidbit: If you see a guy reach for stars in the sky, you can bet that he's doing it for some doll.Please click these links. It doesn’t cost you a dime, but it gets me one. Mo at the Movies: New! Shanghai NoonWork Days Left: Maybe only 28 or so. |
