Can you believe I cried when I watched the "Heffalump Movie?" That part where the Heffalump says it wants it's momma after Pooh and friends capture it. I know. I know. This is a kids' movie built around a lesson in racial tolerance, but still, I started bawling. It didn't help that the Heffalump was British and had an adorable reedy baby voice with a name like "Lumpy" either.
A friend of mine got hug from Jeordie White last week at a NIN meet and greet. She enthusiastically wrote: "His hair smells so nice!" I laughed at her and then remembered that I cried during the Heffalump Movie so I stopped. There's a distinct reason why I don't like NIN fans in general and that statement above sums it up. I suppose people take different trivial memories back with them after events such as these. For instance, I remember Trent's eye color and the fact that he had a scrape on his right hand, but noting that Jeordie's hair smells nice? Doesn't that sounds like a detail a guy would come up with, or perhaps a psycho stalker? The funny thing is that when I pressed her for more information on the meet and greet itself, she couldn't remember anything remotely interesting except that Trent really does smell like Old Spice as the legendary Meathead claims (or a Koala bear as my Australian buddy offered at some point) and Alessando smelled like clean laundry (which I can confirm, oddly). She didn't provide any olfactory details on the other two, thank God.... Should a gal like this be a perfumer or something?
I asked her about the concert and she said that venue reeked of cigarettes and beer. Go figure.
On a totally different note, I've decided that that often, because of the way I look, or perhaps my lack of eloquence (probably a combination of both) rarely do people take me seriously. I have a lisp and pretty much suffer from stress induced anomia, so I have to think incredibly hard and concentrate before I speak especially around clients. Give me a break, I'm good with numbers! Not a good combo (at least I'm not the president though). Almost daily some one on the bus asks me what classes I'm taking and when I calmly explain that I'm a programmer for the university, they don't believe me. I could dress up in frumpish clothing from places such as Petite Sophisticate to convey the fact that I'm almost 30, but I'm just not ready to give in---not yet. Besides the guys my age wear flip flops, jeans and wrinkly T-shirts. Why can't I?
Related irk... most people at the office are shocked that I took all the pics in my cube. The usual reply upon clarification: "But don't you do jewelry?" Are people really that flat and boring that they only have 1 talent?
My feet are cold. It's rainy out and I was sloshing through puddles on my way to the post office earlier. I'm bloated and uncomfortable all due to eating 2 breakfast tacos. Bleh. Not ideal working conditions, I must say!
Did you know that I have 3 friends who have major issues with tapioca? It's true. Usually it is the texture but I think one of them says she doesn't like it because they look like eyeballs. Okay.
I have a big gash on my wrist due to Hippo freaking out and scratching me when I was playing "catch and toture with snuggles" the other day. It's funny. I felt this emotion close to disappointment when she did that. You should know better! It won't scar, but it is pretty gross looking. One of my co-workers asked: "Did you get so sick of your boss that you wanted to end your life?" That's so distasteful, let me tell you. Then again, this guy thinks that classical vocal training is for rising pop stars. WTF?
Going to Vegas in a couple of days. I'm sorta excited, but I wish it were later in the month since I'm busy right now. We're seeing several shows, but I'm actually looking forward to the Hoover Dam tour the most. :) I only just now figured out how super highways are built.
Geeze, this post is about as incoherent as my speech!