bedroom the handyman carolyn see bathroom smoke and mirrors neil gaiman car/walk the stillest day josephine hart
office up r.e.m. car breakheart hill [book-on-tape] thomas h cook living room the sci fi channel
brand x the message came from out of the blue: Brand X welcomes you into its clutches.
1999 april 26
signs of spring
nothing says spring like me walking to the car, bountiful breasts bouncing with each step, accompanied by the catcalls of many a driverby.
nothing says spring like the increase in insect carnage decorating my windscreen after a weekend drive with gene.
finally, nothing says spring like mrs. dalby's lilacs. when the weather turns warmer and the flowers start blooming it means mrs. dalby will soon invite me over to look at her cherry blossoms and give me some lilacs to take home. sure enough, she called on saturday.
mrs. dalby, with her sparkling white hair and her blue dresses always reminds me a bit of barbara bush, only much more attractive. she must have been quite the beauty in her heyday and she still carries herself with the confidence of those who know they are capturing the eyes of all they pass. she has one of those houses you normally see in the pages of sunset or those other high end society magazines; she even has a sitting room. she serves tea and homemade shortbread on fine bone china whenever i am over for a visit. she makes me feel like i am in a victorian novel.
the only thing victorian about my house are the lilacs she sent home with me.
tomorrow: a rant on the abdication of personal responsibility. or maybe a commentary on the fox network's sunday night cartoons and how they seem to be pushing the edge even farther than before; bert and ernie in bed using words like bastard?
hey, bay-bee, claire
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