Emily, I'd honestly just think
fuck off
to the landlady. People live there. Provided there aren't things growing where they shouldn't, she should just bug off.
Ahhrg. T just called to ask if I could help her do her hair. Honestly? I've never done braids or parted or anything to black hair. I'm pretty convinced I'd fuck it up so I told her I didn't know how (they've got some thing they are going to tomorrow and frankly, it looks nice tonight.) I felt bad. But really, I don't know anything about care for anything other that pretty straight hair except some of my coworkers talking about how brittle their hair is and last thing I want to do is bald the child! Help?
I have a suspicion she's starved for female attention. I'm happy to give it, but I've got to ease some limits in.
Ok, we are literally braiding hair.I'm off.
Gus, it's clear you don't like most of the topics of the conversations we have. What
would
you like to talk about?
Wow, I have never seen the local sushi place as packed as it was tonight. They had no room left at the bar for even one person, so gave me a table in the smoking section (which I then offered half of to a birthday party group). I guess the close quarters made everyone feel more social—there was a lot more inter-table visiting among strangers than is the norm. It was a fun vibe actually, like tables on a cruise or in a hostel.
I'm going for Brazilian food tonight. I haven't been able to find anywhere near here that's not the uberexpensive Fogo something Chao that even has a liquor license. I was really looking forward to caperinha sampling. I've never had.
Still! Brazilian!
Oh hell, someone tell me to stop yelling at the tv. Tell me to go read a romance or taunt the cats or try on new clothes and see what fits with the new skirt
or go braid my neighbor's hair.
I really like not really fitting in my neighborhood. It almost makes me feel like I belong more.
Gus, dude, I'm taking exception as well. This is NATTER. Natter will be done. It's random. It floats and flows and interests and disinterest. If I want to talk about the neighbor kid who has glommed on to me, I will. It matters to me. I bitch about my work. Who gives a fuck about my work? I do it anyway. People want to ignore me? Fine. I take no offense. I ignore some talk, but I don't bitch about it. Ignore me and my topics or don't, I don't really care. But really.
Lee, I make jokes. The thing about jokes is that they are bound to offend someone.
I poke fun at the conversations here because I am hopeful that some of the participants will pick up on the irony and thereby get a smile.
In other words:
phb-b-b... t.
sarameg, it may make you feel better to know that the stylist who did my hair for my wedding doesn't do braids. Just plain refuses. So it's not like everyone in the world can be expected to braid on demand.
How is the Wire a movie thing?
You can rent it on video, and that thread has actual, you know, slow periods so even Corwood, new dad, can hang out in there. And we both make the other one think of Baltimore or something, I can't explain it.
