Yay, A Tropical Depression

Well, you know, I think that maybe my Hurricane Watch 2004 Blog maybe doesn’t even need to happen now because according to Mom and to the internet and to other people, everything seems to be simmering down into a tropical depression. They’re definitely going to have bad weather but it doesn’t look like it’s going to be devastating in the manner previously supposed. Isn’t that great? Yay Tropical Depression Frances!

So since I thought my mom was going to be visiting this weekend I didn’t really make any plans that weren’t going to involve her, and her not coming out means, among other things, that my weekend is pretty much wiiiide open as we speak, as the fact that I’m updating my stupid online journal at 8:00 on a Saturday night may attest.

I did go out last night, thank goodness, in case you were worried that I was a total loser or something. I went to my friend and teacher and sometimes burlesque artist’s birthday party, which started out at a nice restaurant and ended up, as I feel more of my evenings should, at Sunset Bowl, where I biffed at karaoke again and where I also sucked pretty hard at bowling, too. There’s no excuse for the karaoke (I tried “Hopelessly Devoted” again and I think it’s safe to say it’s not my One True Karaoke Song) but I am blaming my bowling defeat on my chosen bowling name, which was, for some reason, Begonia. I now think I should have gone for La Tigra.

Still, even though I suck at both karaoke and bowling, obviously it was cool to hang out with everyone and wish Sharon a happy birthday, especially since the conversation turned, as it often does, to pimp hands. I have to emphasize here, for those of you attempting to live the pimp hands lifestyle, that it’s very much about the ribs. It’s not so much about bouncing your hands up and down from the shoulders, but more of a gentle lift in the rib cage and the shoulders stay pretty quiet. And remember! Palms down for pimp hands. If you put your palms up it’s raising the roof and that’s an entirely other thing that I don’t know anything about and can’t help you with. Pimp hands yes, raising the roof, no.

Today has been supremely, profoundly lazy. I did manage to make it out of the house to take a desultory bike ride and to go to the store, but that was so exhausting that I had to immediately take a three hour nap. Awesome. I did get to talk to Ashley in London…London!…for a while, which was super cool because I’m trying to plan a visit there to her and also because her story of how she and Tom made it over there involves them meeting the FedEx lady at the downtown post office to pick up their hard-won visas on the way to the airport. Anyway, they’re there now, and Ash is nice enough to say, every time I talk to her about visiting, “Okay, but when you move here…” Much to my dismay, she has refused to develop a plummy accent and says she’s just going to stick to saying “plaster” instead of band-aid. We’ll see, Ash. We’ll just see about that. For myself, I can already tell it’s going to get rough when I go to see here for the awful reason that I have a very terrible habit of unconsciously imitating the accent and speech patterns of anyone I spend any amount of time with, sometimes to an embarrasing extent. I start hitting the y’all button pretty hard, for example, when I’m around anyone from the South or from Texas, and it’s really awful when I’m around the New York Italian-Americans. This was me in France, talking with a very cute Quebecoise girl, who was wanting to improve her English:

Quebecoise: It’s very beautiful, this chateau, no?

Chiara: But of course! The land! The river! The gardens! They are of a magnificent blending!

In other news, I did a bunch of laundry today and have a depressing Brazilian movie to watch this evening. My dinner’s going to be ready in about fifteen minutes. I totally need a haircut, but quick. I moved my filing cabinet from the back of the closet to a more accesible location near the door of my room, which is also ideal for bumping my shin, I’ve had caused to discover. I’m going shopping tomorrow for hated work clothes, instead of for feather boas or awesome shoes or the octopus costume I want to wear for Halloween this year, as I’d prefer.

And…yeah. Okay. Really pushing the envelope of online writing, aren’t I. I just didn’t want to have the default page be about how I was freaking out more about the hurricane…or no! Tropical depression! I’m not entirely sure that this is any better, but you be the judge of that, okay?

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