Tuesday, May 10, 2005


God it's hot in my apartment. I've got all the doors and windows open and it's still hot. And still. And sticky. At least I have cable, which A.S. is flipping through and stopping on all the annoying channels...blackjack, heavy metal, boring other shit.

We've just come from dinner at La Hacienda where the margaritas are very large. Maybe it'll help me sleep, which I have not been doing very well at all. I need to start keeping a dream journal, in the same vein that my mom says that if you're lying awake thinking of things you have to do, writing it down gets it off your mind and lets you fall asleep. Anyway, I've had bad dreams and very exciting dreams about avoiding hit men on yachts. Kind of cool actually--wish I'd written down more of it so I could write a book.

Dinner at Stupid People Breeding's house was excellent, although the two of us were so busy going, "Blah! Blah! Blah! I'm right! Blah! Blah!" that A.S. couldn't get a word in edgewise. I'm like that. So is SPB, but we're very interesting people. At least A.S. thought we were funny, especially when we were reminescing (on my part, sadly still a reality on his... is that word spelled right?) about The Nerve. SPB's wife is a fantastic photographer and has some beautiful shots of the Vietname Memorial in DC. And an extremely fat cat. What was really funny was their puppy kept trying to lick my rotten foot and then would go drink SPB's beer. Heh. Heh. When his lips fall off, it's his own fault for drinking after a dog.

The foot is still dreadful, by the way. Very nasty and unattractive, although I am good about keeping it under wraps for the most part. When people come into my apartment somewhat unannounced (which is not the same thing as unwelcome) and it's out and free and gruesome for all to see, I am not responsible for their reaction. My Quebec wedding is on Thursday, and I wonder what shoes will go with my heinous boot and the Grace Kelly dress...

By the way, I'm most awfully drunk and am going to go crawl into bed.

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