2007.04.29 @ 20:48
I am feeling lonely and squirrelly, right on schedule given my time in Moscow. I wrote an earlier post but Firefox kept spazzing out on me so now it’s lost, like tears in rain, but basically I was crying about blowing through a ton of money (even with two nights of hotels paid for with random points) and the ridunculous hidden charges with renting a car ($42 USD if picking up at an airport or gare; $0.25 for every km over 200 (!), etc.).
Much of this is not going as planned, and I have a migraine, and a 9 a.m. meeting, and I am sad, and feeling unloved. Boo hoo!
And now there are no formatting buttons in Safari so I can’t gussy up with pictures or italicize anything. Oh, my life is so difficult! Woe is me! I am all alone! In my fake empire!
2007.04.29 @ 12:53
Well, it seems that due to a temporal je ne sais quoi, Sandeman & I missed paths in Paris, Ari & I will miss paths in London, Tommy Fitz isn’t in London comme d’habitude as he’s galavanting with Zach in Eastern Europe, Diyanni just left London to head back to New York, and not sure if Eric Levine and I will meet up. (Why come I have so many dude-friends?)
So, now that I am in London, after having taken the Paris Metro to the Chunnel (THAT SHIT IS MAD EXPENSIVE) all whilst toting seventy pounds of luggage, none of which are in the form of a hiking bag, I am sitting in my non-smoking room that reeks vaguely of cigarette smoke (memo to Europeans: your cancer stick suckage is grody), and about to re-enact a British version of the following scene:
Now, why my former colleague Ginger thinks I’m a wild and crazy lady who gets her party on til the break o’ break o’ dawn is beyond me. Anyone who knows me well knows I’m passed out by 10 p.m.
Hmm, 6 p.m. on a Sunday. Where’s the remote? There’s gotta be some British Sexo en la Ciudad up in these parts.
2007.04.28 @ 21:19
C’est difficile pour moi to be curt with men. First, being curt means I have to assume that they are hitting on me, which feels presumptuous, and is entirely unnatural for me. Second, being curt means putting aside my Midwestern upbringing and putting my needs before someone else’s.
These Frenchmen… geez Louise! I am at my wit’s end and simply did not know how to tell the Greek dude named Evangelous who just got back from some marathon he ran in Frisco (Chang? Confirm?) to leave me the fuck alone without being rude. Finally, after he asked approximately five times if I would make love to him, and after I had already tried the “Maybe if I let him play with my camera he will leave me alone” trick, and after I thought he was just leaning in to do the standard European kiss both cheeks thing (NO! He put his TONGUE on my NECK! PRANK CALLER! PRANK CALLER!) …
I look good, but this guy SUCKS ASS
|
I just started ignoring him. I just soooo wanted to be left alone to walk, to photograph, to be with myself. No, I did not want to walk up the Champs Elysees avec lui.
But: progress. Instead of crying, I finally told him firmly that I wanted to be alone. But, no progress. Just as with Artur in Moscow, I wrote my info on a slip of paper and gave it to him so he would leave. Which he did.
At least the second Frenchie that came up to me this evening was much nicer.
But I could use some help. Please tell me how to get these guys to leave me alone. This may sound like, “Oh, poor me,” but really. I think I am just too nice and friendly sometimes, and it leaves me frustrated, because I really enjoy my solitude in times like this and I do NOT want to be hit on :(
2007.04.26 @ 15:22
With my future apologies to my fellow Iceland Air passengers
|
I hope the airport sells plug converter things for at least four times the MSRP.
Peace out!
2007.04.26 @ 10:38
Popping over to Londres via el chunno for an early quasi-business meeting Monday morning.
The Thai food I had my first visit to London was el sucko; any advooce for good eats et les autres choses comme ca welcome.
Anyone seen my passport?
2007.04.24 @ 21:55
It sucks that this topic is even newsworthy in our society, but it is, and so I’m glad that issues like this appear in the press. It’s easy to forget, institutionalize, ghettoize, marginalize, trivialize …
Anyway, before I go nuts and editorialize, here’s a clip:
Wheelchair user Rahnee P——, 33, takes fixed-route CTA buses, all of which were equipped with mechanical lifts and automated voice announcement systems.
These improvements followed a class-action lawsuit that the CTA settled in 2001. Metra made similar changes after riders fought to get lifts on trains and other amenities.
P—— said she can “pretty much go anywhere” on a CTA bus, but wishes more L stations, including the Harrison stop next to her apartment, weren’t off-limits because they lack ramps and elevators.
Read the full Chicago Sun-Times article.
Wait, Rahnee is 33? Shit, that makes me … thirty?
2007.04.24 @ 12:32
… last cafeteria lunch in the (now-naked) cubicle …
(Fried chicken, hush puppies, pulled pork, snap peas, and butternut squash.)
| Different meal; original decor. |
