08.27.05

I can no longer deny it; I am a dweeb. Case in point:

Galadriel: Possessing a rare combination of wisdom and humility, while serenely dominating your environment you selflessly use your powers to care for others.

At least I'm a generous dweeb, eh?

Or is that passive-agressive, controlling bitch-on-wheels?

*laugh*

This past week was okay; excepting leering men who lack any charm, the incompetency of local drivers, self-important cretins, racist security drones, and having to work for a living. *laugh* It's okay, the working thing, that is. The alternative is too distressing.

On the plus side, I was upright and breathing. Though prone and breathing heavily has its charms--from what I remember. Can you tell I'm mid-cycle and hormonally inspired to make improper and suggestive remarks?

Note to self: No drinking tonight. Definitely no tequila.

Another plus is that it was better than a mouthful of fishhooks. I got to admonish our new part-time boy about his chauvanism. Oops. Chauvinism. He's so cute in a chubby puppy way, so young, and so preternaturally sure that the world works according to his beliefs that I was gentle. Plus, poor thing, I don't think that he's ever met anyone like saucy, salty, ol' bitch Xat. *laugh* Whether that's a good thing or not remains to be seen.

Last night, I went over to Treluv and Binkie's to take care of the cats. Hung out for a while, then headed over to Mojo's to drop off a photo of the owner.

Great picture. It was taken in the 70s. Black and white photo. In the picture, the owner resembles Jack Nicholson of the same era; white shirt, tie, and face twisted with his shouting as he gets out of a car. I also like the two passengers, one in the front seat and one in the back, looking on with supreme (or stoned?) indifference.

While at Mojo's, I got a call. My mobile ringing?! What next? Half-nekkid cabana boys begging for my attention? Emeralds falling from the sky? Me falling in love and trusting another man ever again? (Oh, that last one's the longest shot you ever heard.)(Goodness, I must be more bitter than I realized. Oops. Sorry I shared.) It was MC-CC, saying that the shoot at Noir was cancelled because the photographer didn't have the correct lights. I said that since the photographer hadn't called to confirm the shoot, I hadn't planned on doing it, so YAY, it worked out.

Later, I called the photographer. We talked, it's cool. Thank goodness. I hate it when wires get crossed. I'll have to remind him the next time we talk that, since it's photography involving a fair amount of skin, I need 24-hour notice. We're talking advanced shaving and stuff. *laugh*

I'm kind of bummed. The Sunday night poetry event is on hiatus/finished. Some of us will be getting together anyway to talk about our options and what's going on. I'll miss the SBR, but am interested to see what's next. Damn Pollyanna that I am.

Go. Be fabulous.

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