126: hey little girl

In case you were wondering, I didn’t locate a foam rubber wig for Halloween. Therefore, I was not imbued with Halloween spirit on Wednesday morning. Breakfast was served at work, and the sugar high from consuming a Dunkin’ Donuts glazed was enough to make me think, if only for a little while, that the Great Pumpkin would rise out of its pumpkin patch and deposit a taffy apple in my lap because I’ve been such a good girl this year. But I was wrong. I did wear all black, though. I should have worn my sandals as it was really warm, and these shoes are hot. I also wore lipstick — a lovely deep red, and it looked ever so lovely.

But not as lovely as Bruce and Joan’s new baby, Skylar. I looked up the name a few weeks ago, and it is Nordic in origin, meaning “learned one”. It’s also a variant of Skye, which is what I call her. I don’t get worked up over babies. Maybe I’m spoiled because my friends tend to have sweet, well-mannered children. I hung out with them Tuesday night, holding the baby as Joan got the baby’s basket ready, made phone calls to friends and relatives, and tried to get their oldest daughter, Gracie, to eat some dinner. Gracie wasn’t all that interested in the baby — she wandered around, calling her cat Gilbert though his name is Big Jim (so named by me after the late lamented proprietor of Big Jim’s Smoke Shop in Hyde Park).

The baby actually smiled at me. Say what you will about babies and their gastrointestinal workings, but this kid was happy. Maybe because I smelled like tobacco, the smell of her birth mother? That’s perfectly fine with me.

I watched the VH1/Vogue Fashion Awards earlier this week and I want to know: what happened to Renee Zellweger? She looked crazy, wearing some ugly purple dress with unflattering ruching on the bodice which made her chest look emaciated and a bit rectangular. Also, Sean “Puffy Diddy Piddly” Combs, when accepting his award for whatever it is he did, made a point of thanking his gay uncle George for inspiring his personal style. Which made me think of another showman who had a habit of invoking another family member named George in his appearances — Liberace. You know, “I wish my brother George was here.” What could Puffy do — shout “Yo, my uncle George is queer!” then escort said uncle onto the stage at a concert, or onto the runway at a fashion show? Hmm.

So today (Friday) brought an interesting e-mail to the tech support group here at work. We use a program which logs e-mails so that we can be more efficient in our respons to customer queries. Occasionally we’ll get a message about “REDUCING DEBT THROUGH HYPNOSIS” or “BARELY LEGAL ASIAN GIRLS” but I can honestly say we’ve never gotten a mash note. Until today. Someone sent the following:

“I don’t know your name, the initials on your backpack were LAR (I am 90% sure), you sat next to me on a Friday 5 PM, October 19th flight, O’Hare to Pittsburgh (USAir Flight 1822). I gave you the copy of Outside to read.”

I forwarded it to the people with the appropriate initials here at work, none of whom actually work anywhere near the tech pit. Fortunately, none of them have come round to kick my arse.

So Kathy and I had our first session at CAN TV Wednesday night, sitting through nearly three hours of the history of public access, clips of Jerry Springer, and one woman who would not shut up about what is unacceptable when it comes to mentioning sponsors on a public access television show. I was ready to hit her over the head with my shoe. It was shit we had already gone over in orientation a month earlier, whch is what I wanted to help in frustration, but I think that would have gotten me kicked out of the sesion. Kathy, dressed as a blaxploitation heroine for Halloween (think of Coffy or Cleopatra Jones but more statuesque), looked like she just did not want to be hearing that mess.

The girl who gave the presentation looked like the kind of person who always has a runny nose. I could almost see the muffin crumbs fall out of her pocket, the ghost of a mug of tea fused to her left hand. She read her notes in a mumbly voice, then let the annoying lady ramble on between clips. Annoying lady spent longer than what I felt was appropriate arguing the merits of round table style vs. cinema verite, concluding that, when it comes to discussing the Irish potato famine with the Friends of Irish Freedom (the clip used to illustrate the round table style), cinema verité (which is handheld and is like eavesdropping on a conversation) might not be the way to go. I could have told her that — who in their right mind would want to eavesdrop on such a debate when they could listen to college students talk about teen abstinence (the subject of the other clip)?

I went to Neiman’s with Liz and Jim last night to get some Kiehl’s. I’ve been craving a bottle of creme with silk groom, as knockoff products (like John Frieda’s Frizz-Ease) had been leaving my hair drier than ever. The ladies at the counter let us go crazy with the testers while they tallied up the sales slips for the day. I really wanted the astringent with the rose petals just ‘cos it looked so pretty, but came to my senses and got the hardcore blue astringent instead. The girl who rung me up wore patches under her eyes. The patches were supposed to protect the delicate undereye area, though from what I don’t know. They reminded me of the suede patches you’d see on the elbows of corduroy jackets in the 1970s. Jim’s sweater actually had suede patches on the elbows — very retro.

After hitting the Kiehl’s counter, we browsed in the men’s section where I tried to find a Burberry’s (‘cos you know I’m a label ‘ho, okay? though I prefer the term “Hucci”) hat that would look good on me. They were all too small, or my head is too damn big. We marvelled at the Hermes ties with their fanciful patterns. We played with Aibo the robot dog. $2300 can buy you a robotic dog that will mature into adulthood but won’t die. It doesn’t need to be fed or taken to the vet or go for long walks when it will sniff at every single damn leaf and condom wrapper in the street. Aibo waved to me, came when called, and seemed fascinated with my bright red coat. I was sad to leave it but Jim pulled us towards the fourth floor, with its yummy candy and pretty jewel-encrusted cocktail shakers.

So they had these beautiful pillows, each costing as much as what I pay in rent. The fabrics used were pleated with French molds first created in the 18th and 19th centuries. These were serious pillows trimmed with 14k gold beads. They were artfully arranged around teak coffee tables set with gold-rimmed sherry glasses and platinum chargers. Napkins cut from bolts of raw silk. I wondered if anyone would notice or care if I just started living at the Neiman’s. I could be part of the display, eating the food and wearing the clothes.

The chocolate counter sold hot chocolate mixes blended with candied orange zest, ancho chilies, and powdered gold. I plotzed, then bought some Halloween shortbread which was on sale and, as I discovered later when Jacinda came home and we started eating them whilst gossiping and chain-smoking, delicious. I’ve been unable to get to sleep earlier than midnight, so of course Jacinda and I stayed up until nearly 2 talking about shitty customers, her best friend Claire’s proclivity for tasteless Halloween costumes, Bruce & Joan’s new baby, and shitty customers we’ve come across at work. We also talked about serial novels targeted towards pre-teen girls — books like the Sweet Valley High serials that I went through like pancakes when I was in the third grade and wanted something a little racier than Beverly Cleary. This was, of course, before I discovered Judy Blume. God, even thinking about her book “Forever” makes me blush. I guess that makes me a prude.

Cheers,

Jasmine (just call me Sandra Dee)

*playlist*

Missy Elliot – Step Off; The Faint – Sex Is Personal; Lil’ Kim – No Time; Yo La Tengo – I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend; Blossom Dearie – Tea for Two

*blog*

http://www.audiogalaxy.com/articles/index.php?a=160&&

http://www.theregister.co.uk/content/6/22554.html

http://www.fortunecity.com/lavendar/pulpfiction/99/SweetValleyHigh.lsg.txt

http://www.reuters.com/news_article.jhtml?type=humannews&StoryID=341904

*lipstick*

Tuesday, October 30: Benetint lip balm

Wednesday, October 31: Nars Shanghai Empress (frankly, it looked hot)

Thursday, November 1: Fresh Cranberry Pear

Friday, November 2: Kiehl’s Lip Balm No. 1

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~ by Jasmine on November 2, 2001.

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