May 10, 2002 :: 11:21 p.m.
I hope I look that good when I'm 30
My feet hurt, my legs hurt, my ear hurts, my lips hurts, but all in all, it's been a good day. The feet and legs are due to work, the ear is because I violently bashed it into the top of my car door a few days ago (by accident!), and the lips are nothing new, as I habitually chew and peel the skin off of them until the bleed. Just so you know. It was a lovely day, weather-wise. We had a very poor bagel selection today, because of some problem they had at the Linglestown store (which is where the bagels are made), but I got to make a vanilla chai for someone and then drink what was left in the steamer so it's all good. I had a momentary lapse of self-control and consumed way too much junk food. Damn you, pastry case! Damn you and your seductive goodies straight to the Martha Stewart sector of hell.
Alas.
After work, I went to Adam's. We returned Session 9 to Blockbuster, went to Borders (I got two books, a Mother's Day card, and a magazine), and then hung out at Negley (sp?) Park for a while. There was a baseball game on City Island, so we got to watch a fireworks display - that was a nice treat. It was a gorgeous night, what with the bench swings on the hill and the river reflecting the fireworks and everything. The hill reminds me of a big green bed; there's a bigger part at the top that's the pillow, and below that is the expanse of the blanket. All the dips and rises are the body parts underneath.
I dropped him off at around ten, because he has to work tomorrow morning, and I'm tired. Wanda is having a Mother's Day barbecue tomorrow, and I told her I'd make cookies. I'm going to make the dough tonight and just make them in the morning, because I don't feel like staying up all night and being tempted by the evil baked goods. I think I'll probably stop in at Bagel Lovers and see Joe and Stewart, too. Speaking of Stew, I found out tonight that he's 31 years old. Thirty-one! I cannot fucking believe it. He looks 25, tops. Definitely no older than that. I simply cannot fathom that when this man graduated from high school, I was SIX. Warning: Data does not compute. Malfunction impending. Prepare for meltdown.
*yawns* Well, it's off to the kitchen for me, dears. Sleep well.
edited at 11:35 p.m. Oh yeah, I got hit on today. I was walking into Strawberry Square to get my check when some guy rode by on a bike and yelled "hey baby!" It was kind of scary and kind of flattering, but most of all very confusing because you're not supposed to yell "hey baby!" at fat chicks. Mer.
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