Chaos is the spice of life

My boss told me I did a good job today on one of my projects (not even one of mine, it was someone else's that the customer wanted to change, but I caught a couple of MAJOR errors). That was the first time he'd said anything of the sort. I feel a bit giddy. Also, also, the level of chaos in my job increases the longer I work there. Without any extra effort on my part. This is great news!

I felt so giddy, in fact, that I invited Russ to lunch (he accepted, although somehow i ended up paying. hm.). I am, again, considering asking him to go see Capote on Sunday. However, I'm going to motha-fucking Madison! this weekend to visit my friend Theresa, so I'm probably going to be in no condition to sit on a roof and drink cheap champagne.

I started reading a new book this week. It's called, "A Secret History" by Donna Tartt. It's incredibly dense, referring to all kinds of Greek philosophy that I have barely heard of, and little bits of Greek and Latin mixed in conversationally. The woman is a genius, though, because it's still a quick read. Lucky me, too, because it's 524 pages long (eeps!). It's the first book I've read that wasn't about sex (or at least had a plot line around sex) in a while.

I'm silly, because I spend all day thinking about things I want to say to Russ, but when we're together I forget all of them and we just talk about whatever. I think I might like him. Uh-oh. I think I'm in trouble.

Here's a quote from my book:

I was waiting for a good moment to remember, suddenly, that I was late for an appointment, when Dr. Roland's friend Dr. Blind struggled up, beaming, leaning on his walker. Dr. Blind (pronounced "Blend") was about ninety years old and had taught, for the past fifty years, a course called Invariant Subspaces" which was noted for its monotony and virtually absolute unintelligibility, as well as for the fact that the final exam, as long as anyone could remember, had consisted of a single yes-or-no question. The question was three pages long but the answer was always "Yes." That was all you needed to know to pass Invariant Subspaces.

If my cat could type (and she can't, try as she might), she would tell you that she is very disturbed by how much I enjoy immersing myself in a large quantity of water. She tried to dip her paw in to investigate, but slipped and ended up with half a leg and half of her face in the water. She dragged herself back out by her hindlegs. I wish I could say I didn't laugh at her, but it was fucking hilarious.

Ok, enough about my cat. It's terrible; I swear I'm worse than some girls are about their boyfriends.

I haven't really seen or heard from Zach since he got a girlfriend. I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a bit of a relief, although I can't help wondering why on earth I tried so hard to get over my feelings for him when I knew he was just going to go gonzo about the first girl he really fell for and completely blow me off. I probably should have just kept fantasizing about him and never called him back last summer, then he'd be in love with me by now. Isn't that how boys work?

Actually, just kidding, I'd way rather be lusting after Russ than dating Zach. Wow, what a breakthrough!

I'm watching a show about making a building out of concrete and concrete alone (well, okay, there are some steel rods in there). It's more interesting than it sounds.

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This is one of my favorite stories from the last few months:

I was at one of my radio station's gatherings, and we were talking about the rain (as we were sitting underneath a kq92 tent, haha), and one of the guys in attendance said something about how people in Los Angeles declare a state of emergency when rain falls like that. I knew it to be true, if a slight exaggeration, and I said, "You lived in L.A.?"

He stared at me blankly and said, "Yeah."

The guy sitting next to him chimed in and said, "Yeah, we both lived there, actually."

I couldn't quite get the chronology of it right (I thought he'd grown up around here!), so I pressed it. "Oh, I'm just asking because I lived in LA. Where were you living?"

I caught the, "Oh, shit" and finally one of them said, "Uh... Mulholland Drive?"

Five minutes later, another girl came to the party, and the three of us fooled her into thinking they were from California and that they'd known each other before working at the radio station. It was pretty awesome.

Also, I'm a bitch!

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Oh yeah, and then I asked Russ what song I should sing at staraoke tomorrow night, and after interrogating me as to what the hell staraoke was, he told me, "Build Me Up, Buttercup." So, all afternoon I tried to figure out whether the "me" was me, or him. Um? I hate being a girl.

And, good night, I'm so tired.

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(I put the most important statements last) I think that one of the worst feelings in the world is to feel like one of your best friends thinks you're a loser. Sucks to be her, though, I don't think I am!