monday, may 8
mm, waffle house...
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freak fact:
my nose-tip is very, very mobile. i can squish it completely flat or move it around in a full circle. also, if i squish the tip upwards, i can create a perfectly shaped pig's snout.
(i was going to boast that i can fit a bic pen sideways in my mouth but i don't think em would like to hear that, hehe [and, without permission, i quote: "As a mother I feel obligated to tell you to STOP STICKING BRACELETS IN YOUR MOUTH...sheesh"])
i would provide pictures to prove the rubber-quality of my face but, um, i don't have a camera. yet. :)
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ever since i saw Gladiator i've been dreaming that i'm getting married to russell crowe.
oh, sure. at first it was funny, but now i'm getting really annoyed - he's been a lust object of for years, but my idea of a russell crowe dream is not sitting around with him deciding who to invite and what dress i should wear (red and white).
and he's so against type for me - i'm the one mooning over skinny pasty white geeky wimpy guys. since when does a macho macho aussie guy with an attitude, a penchant for bar brawls and actual muscles become the hottest thing my brain can fathom??? it's sick, i tell you!
and he lives in a trailer on a farm in nowhere, australia with, as he says: "460 acres, 270 Angus cows, a bunch of horses, dogs, chickens, snakes, spiders, platypuses, wallabies, iguanas."
somehow, i can't imagine me fitting in less - not because i don't dig being on a farm and dirt and cows, horsies, dogs, chickens, wallabies, iguanas and platypuses (!:) but because i am a pathetic pale-ass with zero muscles - if i was xena, then maybe.
i also giggle at the thought how this sidebar would have him really really pissed off because it's so trivial - witness an excerpt from a crowe online chat:
Ruth asks: I'd like to know if Russell wears briefs or boxers.
Russell Crowe: None of your f**king business! What a waste of computer technology.
a late night showing of the movie Gladiator (carnage! blood! swords! surly russel crowe! girlfriends in the audience plotting revenge on their boyfriends as limbs severed on screen! [i figure one Gladiator movie equals about three chickflicks - i expect Where the heart is box office intake to skyrocket within the following few weeks] - needless to say, i loved it.)
after some more slugginess and finally showering (ten minutes before jessica showed up) we found ourselves out and about in her borrowed truck to pay a long overdue visit to our dear old friend wal-mart. i got new underwear! socks! tiny plastic barbie clip-on's that dangles from my shoe laces! so exciting...
some pizza-buffet lunch and a neat movie later i was dropped off at my apartment building where a nice, quiet afternoon and a long night of tv ensued. oh wait, that's a lie! she did take me to my building and i almost, almost made it out of the truck when i realised i'd forgotten my purse at her place. we had to go back and a diabolical plan was hatched..
ROADTRIP!!!
so, we loaded up on cd's at her place, got back into the truck and with plenty of sun we drove off into Nowhere. interesting to note: Nowhere is really, really pretty, with pastures and grass and munching cows and horsies thwapping flies off with their tails. it is also more inhabited than you'd think, probably by people who have that thing.. uh.. what was it called... oh, A Real Life [tm].
(before you e-mail me to lecture me on sounding like an obnoxious city-brat: i grew up in a tiny little 'urban' wrinkle about 5 minutes next to Nowhere. i'm not trying to idyllize or mock nowhere, or its occupants.)
moving through all the pretty green stuff in our vroom vroom pollution machine we decided to maybe try and go Somewhere. at first we thought Greensboro was that somewhere, but when we got there it really didn't look like anything so we just kept vrooming on, looking for Shangri-La (or, possibly, Winston-Salem, whichever we should happen to reach first).
a pit-stop with soggy Krispy Kreme donuts and some freaky cheerwine soda and then lots of oingo boingo and the pixies later we ventured off the road onto an exit and.. there it was!
The Amazing Winston-Salem Penis Bank Building!
after a seemingly impossible hunt for a parking spot we finally got out of the truck and ventured all the way up to the doors of the building - unfortunately, it was closed. (perhaps just as well - as jessica said, if we actually stepped inside we would have been the equivalent to semen.. ) after a lot of leering up (you can't actually see the rounded tip when standing beside it) we moved on across the street.
there, by another bankbuilding (not so phallic), we found a gorgeous fountain creation, stairs, steps and pretty trees with lights in them. much dorkiness and discussion ensued while casual water splashing wars interrupted our thoughts on she-hulk and other cerebral topics.
eventually it was time to leave and venture back home (which is sadly lacking in gigantic, phallic buildings) in the dark. with the aide of some 80's inxs, pet shop boys and carly simon, and despite a few wrong exits we managed to get to a wafflehouse for some grilled cheese sandwhiches and hashbrown dinner, and jukebox terrorising and, even later, back to my building where i was dropped off - purse and all.
some phone talk with gene later (i was supposed to hang out with him, actually, and never got a chance to call him and let him know what was going on - and the guy [who is horridly nice] even gave me a nine inch nails t'shirt and everything the day before) and some tv-watching later i found myself back on mtv and very, very sluggish.
the end!
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ah well. back to reality (the one where angelina jolie and billy bob thornton just got married) and finals. quack.