Lovely Weekend

Spokane finally produced it's first gorgeous spring weekend. Ahhhhh... That is the sound of me giving a huge sigh of relief.

I needed this weekend to re-realize that being wirh people brings me much more contentment than watching TV by myself in my bedroom, and that sitting in the sun and is one of the best sensations in the world.

I stayed up exra-late on Friday night to shave my legs so that I could wear a sundress on Saturday, and it was worth the loss of sleep.

Getting up at 6:30 in the morning doesn't even hurt if it is sunny outside.

Also, I learned something important: If you are upset about something beyond your control, you should go to a drag show. Yep, you should. It is a wonderful idea.

Advice If You Happen to Be Around Me Lately

Embracing the Booty Shorts: Part I

Do you see these shorts? I own them, or at least a pair that looks just like them. And in three weeks time, I will have to wear these shorts onstage and dance around. They will have a pair of nude tights under them, but STILL.

I don't wear shorts. The last time a pair of shorts was on my body in a public place, I hadn't yet gone through puberty yet.

Since receiving my booty shorts in the mail, I have been wearing them almost every day to get used to them. And you know what? They don't look half bad. That doesn't mean that I suddenly love my legs and think that they are super hot and sexy, but with tights and booty shorts, they are perfectly respectable legs.

So that's good to know, I guess.

As long as no one looks too closely.

Flat Line

I haven't had anything to write about lately. Life has felt like a flat line for awhile. It has been cold and gray and windy and gray and cold. I've been watching "Gilmore Girls," and eating a lot of yellow foods. Mangos, pineapple, cheesy toast.

I have fallen in love with Jess, Rory's second boyfriend.
I haven't done the majority of the things that I should have done.
I've spent lots of money on coffee to give me something to do.

Starbucks doesn't actually have very good coffee, but I've been going there a lot more than normal. There is an odd, shallow-yet-satisfying ritual that I've formed lately, which involves me, a girly magazing (preferably "Marie Claire" but I'll settle for less) and Hawthorne Starbucks.

So I was sitting there about a month ago, vaguely trying to disguise what I was reading, when this lady comes up to me to tell me that she likes my hair. "Is it henna?" she says.

"Why yes it is henna!" I says.

Then she told me that she used to live in Sweden and that she henna-ed her hair etc. etc. And I told her where I got my henna. And she was a friendly, cute middle-aged lady, and we had a nice interaction.

Then I saw her again a couple weeks ago, and we talked about henna some more, and she was just such a nice, happy lady.

Culmination: I saw her at Starbucks this week, and she came over and talked to me, not about henna, but just for the hell of it, because now we have become occasional Starbucks friends. Which I kind of love.And here's Jess, my TV lover.