flashingreds...
home?
(2002-09-13, 2:13 p.m.)
Sometimes it�s a wonder that I manage to get to work and back home without hurting myself or anyone else. No, this isn�t another rant about not liking the job. I�m just baffled by myself sometimes.

I was to lunch with L. today, somewhere I�d never been. She told me where it was, she really did. But somehow her words translated into something else, and I was left standing on a street corner in campustown, wondering why I didn�t see the right restaurant. Mind you, by that time, I�d forgotten the name of the place. I called Reb, to see if maybe either of us had mentioned where we were going, but to no avail. So I was standing on a corner looking for a place that served some sort of Asian food (that narrows it to about � of campustown) and that may or may not have the word �Home� in the title.

Reb to the rescue. Home of Gourmet, about 4 blocks from where I stood. All was well. Curry was good, talk was nice, and Bust was procured. Whew. Needless to say, it was a long lunch.

I hate campus. Why do we have to have all these students? Don�t they have places to go? Why aren�t they in their dorms/apartments napping and eating ramen like we did in the middle of the day? Why on earth can�t these girls wear more clothing? These are actually things I thought back when I was a student, too. It�s nothing new. I�ve always been terribly mature for my age.

But the one thing I�d forgotten in the past muddle of months�boys smell nice. Even college boys. Sometimes. When they�re freshly laundered and set to impress. Mmm. Better than curry.

I really just felt like I was interviewing. I�m wearing the interview shoes, plus a skirt that�s been an interview skirt, and I was wandering about with a purse�the ultimate sign of a non-student/non-professor on a college campus. Overly dressed, not sure of where I was going. An outsider. It�s becoming a familiar feeling.

So now we just have 3 � hours until Jeremy�s happy hour. I think my gifts are okay. I feel good about it all, and the presentation is pleasing. In fact, I�d kinda like to keep them.

What will the weekend bring, you ask? Tomorrow will be cleaning day, in preparation for my first real party next weekend. You can come, too. I�m even going to mop. Maybe. Then down south to visit my younger sister and her husband. I�m dragging the Brat to see Robbie, since he�s playing in their town Saturday night. It�s a lovely excuse to see their place (they�ve been married for well over a year, and it�s only a couple hours away�the guilt will finally abate), but it will also be interesting to let her see the happy, drinking side of me that always appears at a Robbie show. It�s not as scary as the drunken bridesmaid from my older sister�s wedding last year. I guess she won�t be impressed, but it�s a big step, I think. I already warned her I�d make her have a drink, too. She is legal, for crying out loud, and there�s no reason to not take full advantage of that whilst she�s young and childless. But that�s another issue altogether.

The older sister and I have been reminiscing about the first time we went to a bar together. Again, it was me inviting her to see a band. I�m trying so hard to figure out what band it was, what experience it was that turned me on to live music with such vigor that there�s no going back. Let me think on that and get back to you later.

I�m looking forward to the show. I�ll miss RF when he�s in town in 2 weeks, since I�ll be at yet another wedding. Bridesmaids should stay till the bitter end of the reception, and sister-like bridesmaids will have to clean up. No chance of arriving late and catching some of it, particularly since I�ll be putting people up at my house.

Note from KD: Is it appropriate to use pornographic wrapping paper left over from a bachelorette party for Jeremy�s gift? She rocks.

Dirty vodka martinis for all tonight. Come on by.