sadly, I missed the JZ picture, but I can only imagine how beautiful she was in it.

OY. What a stupid, stupid day and night. Work got shut down at noon (which is just weird, the university I work at never shuts down) because of the snow. I'm all, yay! snow day! I had an errand to run in Davis Square, so I figure I'd do that, and then get a curry at one of the lovely Indian places in Davis Square. I pull out my cell phone to call Tom (who worked from home today) to see if he wanted to meet me for lunch. No, he already ate. OK. On to the red line. At Harvard (2 stops away from Davis), they announce there's a medical emergency, and everybody out.

I walk carefully and painfully to the bus stops. My PF's acting up and the socks I wore with my boots are rubbing painfully on the soles of my feet. There is some madness at the bus terminal area. I reach into my pocket to call Tom to tell him about the insanity, and my phone is not there. It fell out of my pocket. Because I am an idiot.

So, this freaks me out, as losing stuff does- it just makes me feel so stupid and so incapable, and I rush back to the subway platform, where my train still is, albeit empty and closed. I pace back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of the phone. No dice. I'm all worked up, and crying, which is overreaction at its finest I KNOW.

Anyway, I took a cab home, and the cab driver was Mr. Insane Snow Driving Guy, and instead of fearing for my life (which would have been a valid option) I laughed and laughed. With my eyes closed. Got home, and insisted on walking to Union Square, about a 15 minute walk for Indian food there. Then I was able to deal with the cell phone crapola. I called AT&T and cancelled the service- they'll suspend the service for up to 30 days, till I either find the phone or decide to get another one. Then I felt more stupid about being so upset about a stupid cell phone.

Then my mom called drunk and was a jerk and I threw the phone to the floor in a frankly uncharacteristic fit of rage. (after she hung up) (my dad called afterward to smooth things over) (the phone was reassembled, no harm done)

Soaked my feet in some foot soaky stuff, caught up with Bitches, and that's that.

Tomorrow will be better.

I also don't photograph well. I think my personality is a huge sleight of hand for the package.

Same here. For every good photo taken of me, there are eighty squillion ones where I have no chin (or three chins), am making a strange squinchy face, have my mouth open, or look wider than I am tall.

I have friends who are very talented photographers, so I have extra help if I want really good pictures taken.

Oh, Nora. What a sucky day. I'm sorry.

Thanks, Ginger. I blame the snow. It makes everything (especially me) 20% more hysterical.

{{Nora}}

Oooh, poor Nora. I hope your night gets better.

{{{Nora}}} I get upset over things like that, too, especially if I'm in the least tired or my hormones or blood sugar are even a tiny hair away from optimum.

I've tried to teach myself to look at pictures of myself the way other people do. Because how often does that happen - you show someone a really cute picture of themselves and they wail and want to sink into the ground. If they go into detail - all the little things they point out, your eyes just glossed over looking at the picture as a whole. And I think we all do that. If you look at a picture of yourself, your eyes pick out all the little elements and don't quite see the whole. You don't look at pictures of your friends that way. So I try (that's try, mind) to keep that in mind when I'm getting ill looking at a picture of myself.

Using Harvey as a wrist rest to send purr-vibes to Nora.

It is Harvey's goal in life to give love and comfort.

I tense up when somebody's taking photographs. I take bad photographs so I tense up so the photographs are bad and around and around and around it goes.