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Thursday, October 16th, 2003
3:36p - abjection is above all ambiguity
i wasn't going to update today, being all in a tizzy about finishing up this little blurby mcgee for the big boss man. i wasn't gonna. thought to myself, "nothing will stop me from bringing the funny. must concentrate on silly dinner speech." the severity of this particular issue trumps that thought. you see, i read the girl magazines. i pick up cosmo, jane, allure, glamour, nylon, paper, marie-claire, british glamour, french marie-claire and lucky (oh lucky, my holy grail of magazines...how i worship at your capitalistic altar) every month in addition to bust, bitch, mojo, premiere, the economist, time, APM, empire, no depression, atlantic monthly, utne, filmmaker, mcsweeney's, and martha stewart living. oh holy shit i read a lot of magazines. i actually have to take out stacks once a month; i must literally take two trips to the bin.

okay, my point being: i read the fashiony girlie rags. i know what's all hip and shit, at least in NYC and LA. doesn't mean i wear high heels with pointy toes...i mean, really. why would i do that? mmm, how about i can't feel my toes? that sounds good! right. so i know that minis, especially pleated minis are all in this year. in for summer! in for fall! in for winter, yay! when it gets cold...pair with opaque tights for a mod look. so, i figure, my butt's smaller than it used to be and i've got 8 feet of legs...why not? i've been doing that, the mini thing. not every day, but at least once a week i wear a pleated mini, tights and flat shoes and a chunky sweater so as not to look like a whore. did that today. my skirt is red. i like it. it's short. i have tights on, but you can see my red underwear through them. so, i go outside, expecting seattle rain. i get HURRICANE FORCE WIND, sweet jesus. my hair is all in my face, getting stuck in my lip gloss, which of course i'm wearing because cosmo loves lancome juicy tubes! then, as i'm crossing the street in front of four lanes of traffic...guess whose skirt flies right up? guess whose skirt flies up and she's only got one hand to keep it down so oncoming traffic, passers-by and the homeless guys across the street all get a nice old view of her ass and undies?

that'd be me, bob.

i hate my life.

(1 thing | say something, godammit)


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