god, ilana’s getting popular. her illustration has earned rave reviews and it has found its way onto the background of nori’s page. *applause*
ilana has also discreetly mentioned to me that i made some mistakes in previous postings (heaven forbid!) to remedy: 1) the guitarists of the nields are named dave, not bob; 2) the farmer who owns the land in hillsdale, ny is bob, not joe; 3) and shite, there was something else, but i’ve forgotten. ah well, tis late.
today i walked from cleveland park to chevy chase circle, which means nothing to those of who not from d.c., and fell in love w/ potomac video and promptly signed up for a membership. my father called me a fickle consumer but i insisted that i’m just a demanding one. and if video warehouse sucks (and yes, yes, it does) why can’t i take my business elsewhere, like a good capitalist? the store gave me 5 films for $5. i went outside and encoutered miss block wearing a wsrn shirt. i felt a pang immediately — i have many good memories associated w/ that shirt. we talked for a while; she admired my rentals.
went home; then went to nomi’s, where i showed the girls the hilarious, feminist, forthright the-clitoris.com. funny conversation ensued and before it dried up i hopped over to becca’s to do what we always do: make jokes, share cold pop-tarts, and leave the tv on in the background, unwatched, while we chat. annie ilana ari and liz joined us in our merriment. i left around 12, regretfully. tomorrow: lunch at annie’s after work w/ tamar (w/ whom annie wants to be friends) ilana and liz; yoga; then movie at my house. what a life i lead.
returned home to talk to mr. i-hate-telephones-too. flash back to the advice the lady on the train gave me as i left chappaqua like two months ago. long distance sucks, she said. just don’t read too much into what he says on the phone. all right then, i won’t over-analyze the fact that he wants to set up a pool to see who he cheats first. the victim would collect. 🙂 no, really, tonite’s convo was more fun than last’s. at least i didn’t spend the whole time thinking alternatively “i wish i could go back in time and strange ben franklin w/ his damn kite” and “sleep … sleep ….” back on the same wavelength, after momentary panic on his end that i’ve become too brainwashed by martha and ms. just b/c i said he was working for the enemy. sheesh. and they say feminists have no sense of humor.