K: 1/15/03

Work Diary, 1/15/03

I have writer's block. So?

1. Today, if I were a model in, say, GQ Magazine, the caption under my
picture would say: Shirt, belt, and socks by Gap; pants by Perry Ellis;
shoes by Kenneth Cole. If I were in my skivvies, the caption would
read: Briefs by Tommy Hilfiger. I am a walking billboard and it makes
me feel like a hypocrite.

2. Speaking of being a hypocrite, I will be buying a new car this
summer. I've pretty much decided on the Honda CRV, which is essentially
the Barbie Doll of SUVs. My only consolation is that the CRV still only
has four cylinders, so I won't be hogging gas or tearing up the forest
while trying to be natural. The question: What am I giving up just
because I want air conditioning and automatic transmission? (Although,
I also want the four-wheel drive so I can go to my family's mountain
house during the snowy months and write. See how easy it is to
rationalize?)

3. I didn't get to see my older sister on Christmas. Usually she's at
my aunt's house, but this year her boyfriend (possibly husband) was
back out of jail and she decided to stay home with him. I bought her a
$100.00 gift certificate to the supermarket as a present. The other
day, she left a gushing voicemail at my house about how much she needed
the money, her rent's going up, thank you, thank you, thank you. I
still can't shake the depression that phone call caused. Also she's
sending me a gift now. What will it be?

4. Somehow, when I left my last job, I forgot to enter my last two
paychecks into my check register. Now I have an extra $1,500.00 to
$2,000.00 floating around in my account, and for the life of me, I
can't figure out how to reconcile the amounts. This is a good thing, of
course, but I'm supposed to send a lump sum into a credit card and I
don't know how much I've got. Pathetically, I got all the way up to
trigonometry in high school, but my common sense math is practically
non-existent. Also, I always round up when I balance my checkbook (for
instance, a $9.36 check becomes $10.00 in my register). I've been doing
that for years. How much is in there, for godsakes?

5. I've been invited to a birthday party by the couple who called my
partner and me "A-Listers" (i.e., fashionably dismissive queens who
seek out the finer things in life, whether they can afford it or not).
I'm not an A-Lister, and can laugh about it while it stings. So, I
can't decide whether to go to the party. Would I just be a seat-filler?
Would I end up sitting across from the couple, glaring at them? Can I
even stomach the restaurant they've picked for the party (it's one of
those thematic Italian chain franchise things full of old pictures of
Frank Sinatra and fat widows dressed in black)?

6. I am unable to grow a beard or moustache. If I don't shave, I look
like someone took black marker and dotted my face. Very ugly. Like most
men, however, I do grow stray hairs on my neck. Also very ugly. So,
last night I found some old waxing strips in the hall closet. I applied
one to my neck, where some hairs had sprouted, and let 'er rip. The
result was an agonizing second of sheer pain and disbelief. How women
can stand to do bikini waxes and the like is now beyond me.

7. I think I may have shocked a friend yesterday while we were
exchanging emails about our scariest sexual experiences. I had two, one
of which was the time in Houston when a pair of twins took me back to
their hotel and wanted to have sex with me - together. According to my
friend, this is a dream come true, but at the time, I couldn't stomach
it. Sex makes me too empathetic; watching two brothers do the deed
together would only make me feel like I was having sex with my sister
or cousin. One word: Blech.

8. Monday I received my monthly issue of Vanity Fair. Vanity Fair is
one of my guilty pleasures (though it's suffered considerably since
Tina Brown left the helm several years ago), but it's also the kind of
magazine you should not read while finishing off a pint of Haagen Daz
Dulce de Leche ice cream. This month's issue features a spread of
Swedish blond gods and goddesses, all perfectly fit, tan, and beautiful
in that austere Swedish way. As a result, I'm starting a diet on Monday
in which lunch will be my big meal of the day. For dinner I'll have a
small salad and sit around being crabby until bedtime. My goal is to
lose the extra insulation on my chest and stomach, though with my luck
my butt-size will also decrease and my I'll be forced to walk around
with droopy-drawers. At any rate, I'm going to Mexico in May and I'd
like to sit on the beach without feeling the need to hide under an
umbrella.