Thesis of the Day or Little Narrations

And sometimes days narrate like a good episode of Sex and the City. Of which I have just watched several. It was nice for me. Today at work, on the other hand was a little out of hand. Everyone who is employed there decided that they needed to be sick or that things popped up and they didn't come into work--not that I'm complaining, really. It just so happened to be one of those days where you feel like the customers might rebel and start stomping the grapes. We handled it had ordered pizza afterwards. Whew. I'm still here...until tomorrow, which I'm worried will be just as hectic.

Anyway, some days I get those feelings that it be great just to own my own place--or even rent it--and my 'my own' I mean with the Jason, too. I just really want a little place, it doesn't even happen to be too fancy or chic, just a place for us to be ourselves, be dorky, and maybe try to be a little chic. I don't know exactly what it is, but we always seem to be arguing about where we're going to live someday. It's the most practical/impractical argument, or debate, that we could have. I mean it's a little preemptive, beause we don't what occupational, financial, and educational positions we'll be in when we actually get a place, but we still look. He finds really really really cute affordable apartments in Denver, and I keep looking at not as cute, a little more expensive places in the greater Portland, Oregon area, to no avail. It's hard for us to agree, although I'm sure we'd find a place and agree fine, but we're both so damn picky. I kind of love it. Jason is the cutest boy and when he is looking for a cute house, I makes me really excited, even if it's one of these co-operative things he has been talking about--it makes me want to squirm and giggle and smooch. Ooo la la. I just want to be able to have nights in and to sit around and not do homework, read the newspaper, watch some TV, have a glass of wine or coffee (always the beverages, always), and relax. And have a puppy--a dogie, if you will. Oh things will be so funified.

Malibu Run

And I love my job. Not that going to work this Wednesday was fun but it was good, and tonight I got a free meal, some free wine, and some free coffee for my dessert. At the Winery, they decided to have what amount to free nights out on the Winery (not tip money) where six of us get to go out with a manager to a restaurant and pig out. I got to go out with really fun people, who I love, and have a great time, some good free food, a few bottles of wine, and just hang out for three odd hours. Although the wine wasn't anything to write home about, it was good, and we all agreed that it was just good to be together. And we're not snobby about the wine, for example, we had a nice Zinfandel, but it was void of the nice peppery, brambley quality we look for in a Zin. But whatever, it was fruity, smooth and, as I put it "inoffensive". (Something I usually say about a semi-dry Reisling--a total lie. I find any semi-dry or sweet Reisling quite offensive.) For some reason, my word choice got a big laugh at the table. I was serious--it was a wine that I would love to drink with friends, but not one I would purchase again, but if someone happened to get some, I'd be more than happy to share it with them. Also, I had salmon and really good broccoli, I don't know what made the vegger so good, but, damn, it hit the spot. Anyway, a Petit Syrah, a Zin, and some coffee--always good to finish with a little coffee with some amaretto to boot. Alchohol is the best flavor conductor there is. I said it. I love flavors, and I love when they are conducted well.

As a change of pace, I will discuss that this week was uber-stressy. I had to write a grant proposal for my not-for-profit management course--takes a lot of ink (or toner), folks! Lots of time, too! Then I had finish my 10 page paper about 1960s drag queens and 1990s lesbian/femenist performance for my graduate class on queer performance. Although it was an ungraded rough draft, I was nervous to shreds about it--I couldn't commit to one arguement or decide exactly what materials to use or structure for the paper. Now that the violence of articulation has made a mess of my iBook and my brain, as well as to the ink blotted pages of these poor sources I used, I am afraid to get my professor's comments. I did get an A on a linguistics test, horrah! I also had to read Foucault's The History of Sexuality, Burnett's The Secret Garden (Thank god it's a children's book.), a few (review for me) chapters of my English Grammar sort-of book, and a few measly little assignments to go along with the last two readings. Whew--stress! Then, when I snuggled up to Michel (Foucault) on Wednesday at about noonish, one of my managers called me from the Winery asking, so politely if I could come in and work, because it's a lot of school's spring breaks, and their parents need liquored up a bit. I, being the sucker I am, and having the job that I do, went in. It was fine, although I had a lot of cranky customers and wasn't feeling as chatty as normal--or at least my chatty ability had gone the way of my paper--poorly. So whatever, I learned how to do a "grounds sweep" which means I get to drive this weird little diesel powered go-cart like thing called the Kubota around and get trash and off-road it hoping not to drive into the pond or get stuck un the mud. Fun times. I'm also not used to weekdays, where the atmosphere and duties are totally different than on the insanity that we call Saturday. So, a few extra dolares for moi, and less time for Michel--too bad, he's not as good in bed as Jason. (Ha ha. That is supposed to be funny--Michel is a book....well, the author of a book who was a French philosopher into kinky gay S&M sex in San Fran.)

So I need to change some things about my life. Firstly, I'm depressed, because it looks like I won't be able to go to Argentina during May like I wanted to, for both financial and time concerns. I need to take time off of work for May to go to New Orleans, and I need to have more people over for more wine. Oh, and drink more bubbly. Definitely more bubbly. Always more of the Veuve.

Rusty Springs

And this is an attempt to end all procrastination. My head has been elsewhere over these past two weeks, probably still in New Orleans, and a little bit of it wants to be in Argentina, too. Mostly New Orleans. The time of the semester has arrived when I can't dilly-dally around and I really must bust my ass. It's going to mean a lot of time sitting in the library, in a computer lab, or elsewheres away from my house so that I can focus without the lovely destractions of familiarity. Oh, and I feel like April is going to be a fat month. Anyway. I had a good work-weekend this week, only 1.75 days of work, which was really refreshing, luckily this month I'm back to my regular two-days-a-week schedule. Whew.

In other news, spring has sprung--forward. Today is the first time in the history of me that I've had to change my clock forward one hour. It's so much an inconvienience, but luckily they talked about it on NPR, which cooled my spirits. I lost an hour of sleep. That makes me crabby.

I hate to admit that I saw Failure to Launch last night. Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Bates both failed me. But it was definitely campy at times, which is always refreshing. And I got to see a preview for Stick It, a new film by the makers of Bring It On, but this time about gymnastics. Snap that leotard. Also Matthew McConnohay (I don't care how it's spelled.) is probably the worst, cockiest actor in the history of bad movies--or one of them.

In final news, I should get going to the gym. It is past my usual time for excercising, so I shoudl attend to it. Ciao.