Friday, June 27, 2003
 

i have something to say to the driver of the SUV with the license plate frame that reads MY GRANDKIDS ARE CUTER THAN YOURS:

MY GRANDPARENTS ARE CUTER THAN YOU.

bring it.


 

happy day today.


Thursday, June 26, 2003
 

dear new neighbors,

fyi, this community does not tolerate frat rock.

regards,
kate


 

i was going to write a post entitled "ab side" (a lame word-spin off the successful ab workout device, a device which carries a story of its own that involves myself, a hardwood floor and a very large and very painful bruise above my left temple), and the post was going to detail the wrenching ache on the sides of my abs where, on account of a cough that is going on six weeks old, i have developed, strengthed, hardened, and now PULLED two hitherto undiscovered muscles -- cough muscles -- and furthermore, the post was going to be an unnecessarily lengthy way of broadcasting my wimpy complaints about the small annoyances that came from not being able to walk upright or sing at the top of my lungs in the car or clear my throat with any efficiency or receive big bear hugs.

but after i received a ONE-HOUR MASSAGE tuesday night, the point became moot. no whining here, no siree.

so how about a story of the heroism of two adventurous beach-bound trekkers? (i mean that in a star trek-less sense.)

yesterday the long-missed san diego sun emerged from the shroud of grey behind which it had hidden for week after dismal week. the beach called; our heroine answered. ghastly pale from weeks without sunshine and turning nearly blue 'round the edges, she had left work early and found a companion with whom to make the journey. they set forth with Swimsuit and Towel and Boogie Board. they braved traffic, oh traffic, oh heavy traffic, laiden with the swimsuits and towels and boogie boards of hundreds of other travelers, turning a ten-minute drive into a thirty-minute one. they survived jams, they were optimistic through standstills, and they approached the nearest beach with plenty of spunk.

anticipating the hoards of beach-goers and their scores of vehicles, knowing the clogged streets and saturated lot that lay ahead, our heroine asked her companion for advice. should they give the parking lot a shot? should they gamble being caught in the web of space-thirsty drivers, drivers willing to stop dead in the lot waiting for a spot to open, like vultures, with the miniscule possibility that our heroine and companion might find such a golden parking space themselves? the companion, feeling daring, directed her to take the risk.

and so our trekkers ventured into the parking lot with caution and calculating precision. which lane should we take? are they leaving? should we stop? they were cool-headed and confident, having surmounted the only somewhat surmountable to get this far and knowing that their strength of will would get them to the sandy, salty shores in time, in due time.

but then, suddenly: a halt. a halt! a line of cars long enough to obscure the source of the stoppage stretched out in front of them. a minute passed without comment; then another. our trekkers shifted uncomfortably. our heroine pulled restlessly at the halter top of her bikini; her companion sighed and apologized (needlessly) for misdirected advice. yet another minute passed, and another, and another again. would they ever move again? would the ocean elude them? would an afternoon of Blissful Seaside Relaxation be thwarted by this Jam of Outrage?

NO. it wouldn't. our heroine, blessed by a few spare feet of maneuvering room behind her, set her vehicle in reverse, scooted carefully backward, returned to forward motion, and pulled out of the line with smoothness and speed. she squeezed between the line of cars on her left, still waiting, never moving, and the filled parking spaces on her right, where were parked the risky and the lucky that had gone before. she and her companion pulled ahead of the first car in line, the car that had caused those moments of impatient misery, and then there it was:

an empty parking space.

just sitting there! unguarded! unclaimed! unKNOWN! how it could have been, is a mystery, but it didn't matter. our intrepid heroes, having braved the obstacles and held faithfully to the hope of seeing the sand, the waves, the long-awaited sun in all its oceanside brilliance, had been rewarded. they had WON.


 

oh jesus christ, look at the blogger edit page.


Wednesday, June 25, 2003
 

did i say i'd have time to write when i wasn't working? i'm sorry, the sun came back.

hello, sunshine! hello, ocean! hello, suddenly happy san diegans!


Tuesday, June 24, 2003
 

coming soon, when i have time to do anything besides work:

ab side.


Monday, June 23, 2003
 

tell me this song doesn't make you want to hold your favorite cowboy's (or cowgirl's) hand and gaze off into the dusty sunset.

i told you they were good.


 

wait, hold up a bit.

when am i leaving for london?

a week from tomorrow, you say?

AHHHHH!

*contemplates the idea of packing at some point*


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