Batter Up Tuesday, Apr. 09, 2002 ~ 1:40 AM << >>
(blushing) I just got the loveliest email from Miss Rina. (yawns laughingly) She and I are both on our ways to bed. Good rest Miss Rina
~~I�m going to take the fact that I seem to have the kind of face that makes complete strangers want to tell me their whole life stories, as a compliment. I walked into my interview with the staffing agency today, to be greeted by an irate Pamela. Today was her 31st birthday, she�s engaged to Tom/Bill/Greg(?) [I dunno, one of
those types of male names.], and he had apparently forgotten her birthday. She�s from Kentucky, �where birthdays are a
big deal� (and home of the Louisville Slugger) and he�s from Massachusetts where she just moved 9 months ago so that they could start their lives together, and this birthday oversight had really ruined her day. It was 9:45 in the morning and she was sitting there, pink face matching her pink sweater set and practically crying as I tried my damnedest to console her by saying, �But Pamela, he�s a
Yankee.�
However, our favourite un-employed Andi now has employment for this week starting Wednesday. I am to be the �Registration Computer Operator� at the New England Woodworking Convention this Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The only problem is that my work attire is strew about in Montclair New Jersey and perhaps (though I�m sure it�s been thrown away or shredded by now [lonnnng story]) Park Slope, Brooklyn.
[(sighs) I really miss Park Slope. I used to live in the best location and every weekend I spent hours in the Park after browsing the flea market, or the stoop sales. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I have the most intense cravings for Uncle Louie G�s Sweet Georgia Peach Italian ice. Sometimes, I have the most intense preread-wordlust and desperately miss the used bookstore on 7th(?) Ave. I would walk for hours looking down at the chalk figures on the sidewalks outside of the Brownstones which housed children. Beautiful children with their beautiful Mommies. One night when I was escaping the apartment, I walked until 3 AM smoking and looking at all of the shops that I�d never been in. It�s such an odd memory. I sat on a bench outside of a bike shop(?) near a fire station and talked to Jared about how manic I was. Then, before lighting my next cigarette, I lit every single candle outside of the fire station. So that I could see the chalked drawings, the flowered offerings, the crayoned creations of those beautiful children better.]
So I have no proper work attire in Windsor. (chuckles) It was hard getting dressed this morning with only 3 rings total and no leather anywhere. Not that I wear a lot of leather. It�s just that I tend to wear some sort of leather accessory when I�m nervous, it makes me feel centered. So today, my hair was pulled back, and my tie was pulled up tight and my hands were naked and I got to comfort a Birthday Slugger.
And then I bought a bag of cookies.
~~I gave up a long time ago the dream that there would ever be a song written about me. "Andrea" simply has far too many syllables to be appropriately melodic. However, I now I have the dream of a poem being written about me. This poem isn't... but it makes a girl jealous.
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Last 5 Entries
How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM Gypsy - Wednesday, Sept. 24, 2003 - 8:44 AM I'm no Artemis. - Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2003 - 8:19 AM
