life as a grown up – Page 12

THANK GOD THAT’S OVER

Last year bit monkey butt. I spent too much time helping laid off friends move out of the city, fearing for my own job, dating boys who weren’t nearly nice enough to me, and crying in front of the evening news. I rang in the new year from the hill in Dolores Park. There were fireworks, many drunken friends, a communal bottle of champagne, and a boy who is unusually nice to me. Also, there was a naked guy. He stripped around 11:57 p.m., then ran up and down the muddy hill, sliding and diving into the puddles while we chanted, “NAK-ED GUY! NAK-ED GUY!” It was the best. Any year that begins with a muddy streaker is a year I can get behind. Happy 2002.

3:39 p.m.

ADVENTURES IN COPYEDITING

Scenario: Deadline day. Sitting on couch, proofreading with co-worker for the last eight hours.

Me: Ogg Vorbis sounds like something off of “Mork and Mindy.”

Her: Yeah, isn’t that weird? Did you see the company name?

Me: No… (Scans article.) Xiphophorous?

Her: That’s it.

Me: “Gentlemen, I present the honorable Ogg Vorbis from the planet Xiphophorous!”

Both: HAR! HAR! HAR!

Me: We’re really rummy.

Her: Yeah.

(a few minutes later)

Me: (’50s radio announcer voice) Ogg Vorbis! AAAAAHHHHG VVOOOORRBIS!

Both: HAR! HAR! HAR!

(pause)

Me: Our lives are tiny and sad.

1:13 p.m.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

This morning on my way in to work I passed a guy riding his bike. His grass skirt was blowing dangerously close to his chain and he was using one hand to support the four-foot-tall wooden tribal mask he was wearing. Yesterday, I passed a guy in jeans, an REI jacket, and a pair of fairy wings. I heart Halloween.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes, cards, and gifts over the last week. All of them made me smile.

10:15 a.m.

ANOREXIA PETRI DISH

Self magazine has a “What I Ate Today” feature where they ask some marginal celebrity to detail, rice cake by rice cake, what she’s eaten that day. Yeah… I’ve had sweet tarts for breakfast two days in a row now.

4:23 p.m.

I GROW OLD, I GROW OLD

Yesterday was my birthday, and I had a good time. I spent the day baking, carving pumpkins, and thinking of reasons why 26 is old. I don’t understand bubble tea, I’ve never been to a rave, and all the Saturday morning cartoons suck. My CD collection features entirely too much James Taylor, I had knee surgery this year, and I’m really starting to notice when the refrigerator needs cleaning. On the upside, I no longer order drinks with schnapps in them, I don’t apologize for things that aren’t my fault, and I make a mean peanut butter cookie.

3:45 p.m.

ART AND LIFE

I’ve been collecting photos that look like the work of famous artists.

Alex Katz:

M.C. Escher:

John Singer Sargent:

Caravaggio:

4:50 p.m.

10.04.01 PAIN HURTS ME

I’m a wimp. I’ve tried to get past it, but I can’t watch an episode of “ER” or “Rescue 911” without getting tunnel hearing as I crawl from the room. So I didn’t do well with the Wisdom Tooth Removal video at the dentist’s office. It’s a high-level cartoon, for cripes sake. No blood, no close-ups, just detailed descriptions of the procedure and my over-active imagination. The dentist returned to find me with my head between my knees, and one arm groping blindly for the stop button on the VCR. Tomorrow morning I’m having roughly half of my jaw removed. Should be a treat.

7:38 p.m.

ROCKSTAR

Ladies night excerpt:

Lady 1: Does your necklace say “Rockstar?”

Lady 2: Yep.

Lady 1: Awesome.

Lady 2: I wore it to a meeting today before I realized I had this lovely hicky. (Does Vanna White hand-display impression around hicky.)

Lady 3: Oh well. At least now they know you’re getting some.

Lady 2: In case you were wondering if I get any action. (waggles eyebrows)

Lady 4: What? This? Oh, yes… I was curling the ends of my hair and the iron slipped.

Lady 2: Ha! The crackpipe slipped.

Lady 5: Rugburn.

Lady 4: Ropeburn.

All: Awww.

12:16 p.m.

10.02.01 HE GIVES ME FEVER

I’ve had three cold sores in the last six years. Each one of them has coincided with an event involving Dave Eggers. In college, I had a subscription to Might Magazine (coincidentally, the inspiration for my blog title). The staff had a farewell party in the Tenderloin, but no one would go with me (I was living in Davis at the time). I had all these tests the next morning and woke up with an angry cold sore. So, with a bitter sense of disappointment that still lingers to this day, I skipped it. A couple years ago, Mr. Eggers was doing a reading in SF that I was determined to see. Of course, deadline ran over at the magazine I was working for, and I had to stay late. I had a cold sore then, too. I finally got to see him speak last night. The audience was eerily consistent: tousled men in ’50s eyewear, artsy chicks in knee socks and pea coats. Mr. Eggers baked cookies for the audience, and rocked nervously while he told us about his taxidermy supply store in Manhattan and his poor experiences with UC Santa Cruz students. I brought along the Carmex. I would have stopped to meet him afterwards, but I was afraid that if I shook his hand my entire body would break out in fever blisters. So I got a cab instead.

4:24 p.m.

10.01.01 SPORTY

This weekend, I went kayak camping for the first time. The waterproof windbreaker, board shorts and salt air made me feel pretty sporty. I had to stop myself from greeting fellow kayakers with my chin (‘Sup?), and grinning stupidly at the tawny, tanned, fleece zipping, sports-bra sporting girls. Then I realized that seasoned outdoorsmen probably don’t assume that every seal they see has a shark lurking just beneath. They probably don’t wince at the searing pain in their shoulders after rowing for five minutes either.

5:22 p.m.

Me: I still haven’t gotten a ticket from that time I accidentally drove through the Fast Track toll lane in Indiana.

Him: You will.

Me: You think? It’s been awhile.

Him: Yep. They’ll contact the rental car company to figure out it was you, and then send it to you.

Me: That pisses me off, the signs weren’t lit at all. I had no idea I was in the wrong lane until I was right up on it; it’s not like I could turn around. Maybe I could write an “I’m from out of state” letter.

Him: Right. “I’m from California and I was STOH-ONED. Maybe if you light the signs and make them flash, then maybe I’ll notice them.”

Me: Shut up.

Me: Whoa! Check that out.

Him: Somebody needs to give that girl a sandwich.

Me: What’s up, Halter Top? She’s definitely wearing last night’s clothes. Walk of shame, baby.

Him: That’s a total walk of shame. She’s even walking sore.

Me: I think her clogs are bugging her.

Him: Or she just stopped having sex twenty minutes ago. Now she has to go to work wearing that. She’s looking for a company T-shirt anywhere she can find one.

10:21 a.m.

Ugly Fat Kid summarizes the average American political sentiment in under ten seconds: “I say we should pass a law about all these problems. There. That covers it. Now on to sports…”

3:57 p.m.

Three confessions:

I type my grocery list.

I had Fritos for breakfast.

Last night, I watched the entire Miss Teen USA pageant, even the part where Mandy Moore sang barefoot.

11:09 a.m.

The actual headline of a press release I received a few days ago:

Collaboration and Web-Based Self-Service Access to Brand Assets and
Marketing Collateral Enable Tighter Brand Control for Enterprises and
their Partners

11:30 a.m.

Have you ever been mesmerized by your monitor, so deep in concentration that you can’t look away? And say you needed Chapstick while the monitor glowed seductively. Would you reach into your desk drawer blindly and feel around until you found it? OK, good. Now how close would you actually come to applying the glue stick to your lips?

6:24 p.m.