Jul 21 2003

And, about the color of my page. Those of you who take exception to my choice of background colors obviously have an under- developed sense of your feminine side and of kitsch. I wasn’t about to fall prey completely to those who desire to be daring with their blog/home pages by having white type on black backgrounds (some are my best friends, actually). Where is your sense of excitement? Where is your war on good taste when we really need it? I do not apologize for the pink. I sit here in my pink plaid p.j. bottoms and my pink tank top relishing your potential distaste. And if you like it… woo- hoo! You like me! YOu really LIKE me!

Jul 21 2003

SO, John and I decided that , since I come home with so many horror stories from work, he shouldn’t be the only one to share in my pain. Voila- my own page. It’s not all about shoes- it’s really all about the hideousness of the human race that I experience through shoe sales. Take Friday, for example: a man came into the store and stood for a very long time practically interviewing every shoe on the shelf. Men do this commonly, so it didn’t really attract my attention. However, he then attempted to engage me in conversation. I found out that he had recently moved to the area and wanted to check out the music scene and possibly start a band. Cool- I want to sing in a band, so I say as much to him.

Guy: “Oh, cool. Before I moved I was part of a couple bands and I wanted to find a female vocalist. I’m into all sorts of music. Rock, modern rock, hard rock, classic rock.”

Me: (nodding slowly, smile frozen) “mm-hm”

Guy: (horrifically enthusiastic) “Yeah, and I like some reggae and there’s some jazz that’s okay, too.”

Me: “mm-hm”

Guy: “Yeah, like, I wanted to do some Pat Benetar tunes and stuff.”

Me: “Oh, mm-hm.”

What the shit did I get myself into!? This guy knows where to reach me! He took a card!! I ‘m not sure I really want to have anything to do with someone who feels the need to define the “different”kinds of Rock music he’s in to. Ahhh, the public…

Jul 21 2003


Jul 21 2003

How do we know it’s you?