nothing is fancy
03.24.05 @ 12:29 a.m.
No one outside the ordinary is coming to the beach.
This is not so fun as I anticipated.
My sister's visit is about as good as I expected, though. She's in town until Sunday, though I'm thinking of heading back to Eugene on Saturday. I told my mom "evening" but now I'm thinking afternoon so I can stop at the Woodburn outlet mall. I need new jeans, mine are wearing. This isn't surprising considering that the two pairs that are fraying are made of some kind of odd, thin denim.
Anyway, my sister. I think she's fallen in love with Roger, but I'm happy knowing that Bobby is superior. He isn't as playful as Roger, but Roger has got this flinching, twitchy quality that I don't like. Roger is an optimist, Bobby seems like more of a cynic. And me, I am over-anthropomorphizing a pair of puppies. So Roger will make his way to Chicago sometime in April or May, which is when Dad intends to take himself on a little trip to visit Joannie in her condo and probably visit eighty bajillion blues clubs or other blues landmarks. He's that kind of guy. Originally he invited me to go along, but I have this little thing called school I have to deal with. Joanne thinks she'll leave his name as it is and call him "Roggie" since it's hard to change a dog's name this late in the game. She was supposed to be here all day, but her flight was cancelled and in the end we just took her out to Rock Creek Tavern for dinner.
Sometimes I can do without the overdone whimsy that characterizes the interior design of McMenamins' establishments. Mainly the fucking stupid giant wooden mushrooms. And it's too dark in there, but I guess if you're a lumberjack or farmer eager to get drunk, you don't want much light distracting you, so it fits the intended tenor of the place. While I am criticizing the brothers McMenamin, there is no excuse for beer cheesecake.
So, the deep, dark secret of the day is that I'm really not at all excited about the beach and would just as soon stay home, hang out with my mom and dad and my dog. I don't need to see Amy and Martha, I just spent all fucking Monday with them. I'm out of things to tell them. All that's left is Andrew. THIS ISN'T REALLY WORTH IT, but there isn't any way to get out of it politely.
Fuck fuck fuck.
(PS, I get a little repressed when I'm home because I have to curb my usual sailor-like swearing.)
(You know, oaths peppered with nautical terminology.)
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
