Well, I had a Damn, I Am *Such* A Little Whore day—how about you? :-D
The dashing young man below would be Thor, one of the resident felines at a book store I frequent. Thor is quite an attentive salesperson, following you throughout the store as you shop, making recommendations throughout your visit. :-) As can be seen, Thor will even help bag your books for you. Thor reminds me of Squooshable! Though, as Meg pointed out, Thor is considerably less thick, has a completely different face, different fur and eye colour, totally different personality, and a tail.
To which I replied, ‘shut up.’
Butsoanyway.
I took today off. From everything. I was awakened unpleasantly; in my dream I had received a phone call from a hospital in my old home town, and they put my father on the line; he told me that he loved me and he was dead, and I woke up just as I was trying to tell him to wait, wait and not die just yet, to talk to me some more (so that I could maybe convince him to change his mind). This is of course completely logical, because my father has total control over Life and Death—his own as well as everyone else’s.
Well, if you grew up in my household, you’d understand; encouraging that kind of idolatry is a forte of his line. Our family coat of arms depicts minions prostrate before a cardboard box, upon which stands a man with a *really* big head; behind him, out of sight of the minions, a woman on a step stool holds a candle with tinfoil backing to create a halo, and she looks vaguely bored with it all. Beneath this reads: Ignarus Velum Quod Vir Secundum (ignore the man behind the curtain).
No, *really*. :-) And don’t pick on my Latin; I didn’t get sent off to study it for six years like the more important children in my family who shall remain nameless. I’m unimportant like that and therefore have to wing it as best I can manage. …and translate what I *meant*. :-) I probably just ordered three Egg McMuffins up there.
But seriously—I have dreams like that sometimes, where my father has died or is dying, and I’m glad that I don’t believe that dreams have any meaning. In the one I had before this one, we were all at some hotel somewhere, like at a conference, and he came down with his second wife and announced in a really offhand way that he had coded twice overnight and would probably not last through the day, so therefore he wanted to get some business out of the way—such as dividing up the estate and giving us his last pearls of wisdom (which would probably involve a REALLY long reading from The Rubaiyat), and so on. And I was again trying to find a way to break in and talk him into changing his mind (one has to really plot with him; just interrupting or approaching him incorrectly on a topic would at the very least result in him doing what you didn’t want done just to spite you), and all the while my Stepmonster was just calmly accepting everything and supporting him by being all quiet and serene, and handing out papers as he asked, and she was really pissing me the fuck off. I wanted to scream at her and hit her, but that would have ruined my trying to find the foothold of a tiny moment with him (in the guise of asking a relevant question, and to be relevant I had to hang on his every word) to try to change his mind about all this.
See? *This* is why I am happy to not remember my dreams much of the time.
Butsoanyway.
So I got up and went to the dentist and that was *really* fun (no, I am not kidding), ‘cos the new partner in my dental group is one truly fucking HOT son-of-a-bitch. I’m not big on physicalities generally, but if I *do* have a ‘type’, well…I spent twenty or so minutes with that type’s fingers in my mouth. Not my personal first pick of appendages, but I’m clearly desperate, so… Oh, joy. Well, fingers and Latex. Woo-fricking-hoo. Next time I’ll bring test results and ask him to skip the Latex. ;-)
Next up on The Ancodia Show: Viewer poll—Ancodia needs to start dating seriously again, doesn’t she? Yes, or Yes?
Butsoanyway.
So then I raced back home to feed the horde and then meet Meg for lunch; we yakked all the way through lunch, and then I went with Meg to her hair appointment, trying to sneak in a trim with The Goddess all stealth-like and then be self-indulgent and get a pedicure and a facial, but The Goddess is about to go into the hospital and couldn’t sneak me in ‘cos she was double-booked, but at least I did get to find out that TG was going into the hospital in the first place and give her a good luck hug and all. She’s going in for an ovarian cyst, and those hurt; I know the pain from mine had me literally in tears some times; mine was almost the size of a fist and about to twist my ovary around (which I am told will drop you to your knees in milliseconds), and TG’s is pretty big, too. So this is a good surgery. And none of the other normal people were there, so I decided to save myself some money and get my facial and feet at the nearby tiny quickee nailee place; I’d not ever tried their facials, but they are less than half the price of TG’s salon (as are the pedicures), and I’m trying to not do any psycho splurging. So I made superty-secret silent sister signals to Meg (so as not to offend anyone at the salon) and we left after she was done.
We had a little time, so we went over to this cool bookstore; I used to LOVE to just hide away from the world in there, but that was a few years ago. They have cats in there (all black and *so* friendly, or at least stoically accepting of the inevitable—that patrons are going to want to pick them up and carry them around). I picked up a few new mysteries, and Meg goes and tries to make me feel all low-brow by picking up some classics to read whilst playing poker. Pfft. My mind works all the time, and I am well-read enough for several lifetimes; I need to carry pabulum in my purse to stay sane, Miss High-and-Mighty.
Butsoanyway.
So I took some pictures of Thor, my especially helpful sales clerk and all-around Quite Handsome Gentleman, and we hit the tiny quickee nailee place. Pedicure: same as ever. Facial: Oh…My…God—Best Facial EVER in its class; it was a relaxing facial, heavy on the massage, and she even did a hair/scalp massage. Damn.
I have always had long hair, sometimes longer than others, and when the trend went around in school to play with each other’s hair, I was a snob (allegedly) because I wouldn’t participate. Well, let me let you in on a secret: play with, pull, or brush my hair, and/or massage my scalp, and I am your bitch. No, rilly; I’ll follow you around for days, finger-in-the-belt-loop. I pretend to dislike it, but I am LYING, which I sometimes do as a pathetic defence mechanism out of a sense of self-preservation, because I am, well…pathetic. :-) Well, at least I am honest here—that should count for something. So this was *awesomeness*, though if I had known in advance, I would have avoided it because stuff like that makes me extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t a great exfoliation facial, but it was definitely the best relaxation facial I have ever had. I can always exfoliate my damn self; the Exfoliation Gnomes dumped off half Origins’ stock in my bathroom about a year ago, and I still have tons left.
No, really—they did just drop it all off one night as I was sleeping. I don’t know why; I just woke up and it was all there.
Well, that’s what I told Meg. I think she believed me.
Unfortunately, the facial gave me enough time to think (well, I had to think about something so that I didn’t propose marriage to my facial lady), and so I figured out the mystery novel I am reading. See? I am thinking about quasi-productive things. Well, ok, maybe not tonight, but sometimes I do. I’ve never gotten around to seeing Strangers on a Train (on my To Do List), but I *have* seen Throw Momma from the Train. See? I’m all-the-way low-brow. :-D But it works out all the same. But I am going to read through the rest of it anyway, even though I would bet my new favourite facial girl on how right I am. Yo—crisscross! :-)
And then I’m here, ‘cos I was too relaxed-out to forage for nuts and berries. I’m just going to sit here, play online poker, and starve until someone brings something good.
Sigh.
I’m waiting…
.
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