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Your One Stop Shop For Bad Grammer!
The mirror in my room is one of those cheap five dollar jobs from K-Mart. I put it up on the faux-wood of my closet with sticky squares and masking tape the day I moved into this apartment last year and it served me faithfully for many months. Some weeks ago, however, everything in my room seems to have decided to come crashing down all synchronized, like. The bulletin board was first to go, taking down several pictures in its wake. The mirror then (predictably) came down as well. I put it back up (more masking tape! STAT!) and all seemed to be going well until I made the mistake of leaving town for the weekend. Let me tell you, never do this. I lugged my suitcase and laundry baskets into my room at zero-dark-thirty attempting not to wake up my roommate (who was sleeping on the couch) by turning on any lights. Krrrrrrack! Aw fuck. Please not the mirror, please not the mirror, please not the m— riiiight, it was the mirror. Question: If stepping on a crack breaks your mother’s back, and breaking a mirror brings seven years of bad luck, would stepping on a mirror and breaking it condemn your mother to seven years of broken backs? This was two weeks ago. My mirror is still lying, propped up on a pile of clothing (No, I’m not kidding,) intact but artistically cracked. I kind of like it in some ways. It’s like having my own real life funhouse mirror. The angle at which it is tilted makes my torso look interestingly elongated and skinny, which I greatly appreciate. Standing in my normal spot spreads the cracks across my belly and upper thighs, making me feel very Demoiselles d’Avignon. Unfortunately it also requires me to stoop a bit to see my part when I am brushing my hair. I always blow-dry my hair before getting fully dressed (I don’t like to get my clothes wet) and the only other full length mirror is outside in the hall. Consequently, my new morning routine involves a very cartoon-like craning of the neck outside my bedroom door to see if I can blow-dry half-nekkid in the hallway or if I just need to suck it up and do it in my room while stooping. (Hee. Dirty.) I need to just get down to Linens ‘N Things or K-Mart and buy another five dollar mirror, but somehow it just seems to be too much work. Like, possibly, if I wait long enough, the shoemaker’s elves will steal into my room by night and install me a new mirror. And boy would I be chagrined if I had already done it myself before they got here. I’ll do it eventually, hopefully before the new roommate moves in. That gives me another month of leaving the house everyday envisioning myself as some weird combination of a surrealist painting and a funhouse figure. It does make for interesting self esteem. 5:38 p.m. August 15, 2004
“Y’all aren’t from around here, are ya.” - August 21, 2005 |
The Many And Scary Ways They Get Here Quote of the Day
"They have lots of disturbing cross sections of animal reproductive organs"
Worried by The fact that I just walked upstairs and saw one of my new housemates standing on her desk chair slowly revolving in circles for no apparent reason. Good Reads
Tomato Nation Fun
Television Without Pity Games
Copter Game Useful |
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