Leaving tomorrow for Atlantic City. Saturday is my birthday and my sister and I are going to see Weird Al. I am not "geeked" or "excited" or "psyched." I AM FUCKING THRILLED. Friday we are going to drink boozes and walk the boardwalk. I am going to show my sis the one lounge in the Trump casino where the hookers go to pick up johns. It's all very out in the open. Maybe we'll get mistaken for hookers and get caught in a sting and won't get to see Mr. Burt Reynolds like that one episode of The Golden Girls. Saturday is beaching, then concerting. Is it going to be warm enough to be outdoors in bathing attire? 65 degrees is fairly warm, right? God I hate swimsuits. The colors are revolting. Fruity tropical Dance Party USA Saved By the Bell Kelly Kapowski. But black ones make me look like a Romanian prison warden. I had a vintage one that was nice but I lost it. I think I did it on purpose because a used swimsuit is kind of gross. Someone's crotch has been marinating in it for HOURS. Sunday we are going home and then all next week is mad busy with work/random appointments. WEIRD AL WEIRD AL WEIRD AL WEIRD AL. BTW, this is his him.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
I have advised total strangers to zip up their zippers. The first was a middle-aged woman in the elevator at my shrink's office. She made such a production out of zipping it up and was so obvious and nonchalant that I really regretted all the quiet secret code hand gestures I cycled through to communicate this information. She probably thinks I'm an uptight WASP. Which is true. Sort of. I'm uptight about certain things, like I won't date a guy who doesn't have a strong handshake but I'm also OK with that guy Frenching other guys and wearing eyeliner. The second was a guy on the N train. I've seen him before. His shoes always coordinate with his outfits. Not coordinate as in black shoes with black suit and brown shoes with brown suit. GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD ON, SON. He will wear a lavender and cream colored suit and the shoes will be lavender and cream colored loafers. I think he shares bloodlines with Morris Day and Aresnio. So I looked at him and silently gestured and he gave me a flirty smile, like "Yeah baby, I know you're looking at me. You think I'm hot." I gestured again and he finally got with the program. After that I felt really bad for him. I almost wanted to get off at Port Authority and offer him a consolation BJer but then I remembered my policy about not giving BJers to guys with bad shoes that I meet on the subway.
Posted by Erin Bradley at 12:36 AM