Making Up for Lack of Blogging

Stop me if you already know this

The Partridge Family was on TV tonight. Mrs. Partridge (or whatever her name is) has the same exact outfit as Austin Powers, with the maroon velvet suit and the fluffy lacy white necktie thingy. And I think even the bangle-y necklace. Come to think of it, Mike Meyers and Shirley Jones kind of look alike. I'm serious--look! (Unfortunately, all the ones of Austin in the red suit were not quality pics, so this one's blue. But trust me, he had a maroon one.)


Now here's the part my guy friends kick me off their web discussions for

I remember how in high school, anytime it was the last day of something--closing night of a school play I worked on, the end of the season for a sport, the end of a semester of class, people would get sappy and say stuff like, "I just love you all," to everyone there, even the people they really didn't know very well. Some people would get so worked up they'd cry about it. I remember saying and doing this myself, and I remember that at the time I meant it. But it couldn't have been true--I mean, can you really say you loved all the people in your sophomore Spanish class? A year later I couldn't even remember everyone's names. I think people should study this generalized love thing, because it's an odd phenomemon. I have to say I'm kind of skeptical. Maybe it's really mostly a sense of pride from having accomplished something as a group, or maybe you loved a certain situation or point in your life and don't want to leave it, and by extension don't want to leave the people who were there with you. . . . well, anyway, they should make a name for that feeling, because now that I think about it, it's sort of weird to call it love.


Other Random Thoughts

Every day my train gets into the city with about 10 minutes to spare, so about every other day I go into the Claire's store in the train station before I start walking to work. Most days I just look and look at the same old earrings and necklaces I see every day, hoping there's some great treasure that I've missed. Sometimes I buy things, but, on average, I end up returning about half of them the next time I buy something else. What does that say about me?

I've mostly stopped taking the bus from the train station to work in the morning because the people waiting in line piss me off. "Where's the bus? We've been waiting 10 minutes! This is ridiculous!" Blah blah blah! What do you want? It's a nice plush bus for $1.25--that's a good deal! Take a cab if you're so impatient. God. I'd rather be cold for 15 minutes walking than start the day listening to someone else's bitching.

. . .Except for if it's really really cold. Then I'll take the bitching.


I just realized today that, besides teddy grahams and red hots, there are no cinnamon-flavored snacks. There should be. For example, tortilla chips with cinnamon sugar are really good. But you have to make them by hand. Why can't we sell these? Come to think of it, if you want a sweet yet crispy snack, you don't have many options. Cookies and candy are about our only choices for sweet snacks. I think there should be sweet corn or potato chips. If I had a chip company, I would develop a whole sweet chip line.

I'm thankful for backs. They do so much work for us every day. And mostly without complaining. Without backs we would just be crawling around on the floor. Good job backs.

One more thing. (I always think of this when I'm out partying, but then I forget, probably because it always happens to drunk sentimental Becky, 1/2 a beer before drunk melancholy Becky. Anyway.) When you go out to a bar/club (anyplace dark) and someone takes a picture, look at the person they're taking a picture of. The reflection of the flash off that person's face in the dark makes an image in your vision. If you close your eyes you can still see their face in your mind. Then they slowly fade away. Drunk sentimental Becky always likes the little 3-second mental photographs of her nearest and dearest.


Good job if you read through all this.