May 4, 2002
Weary Jammies
I am wearing winter jammies even though it is May.
Tonight really did not improve my humour, other than the fact that at the very end of the eve I got to eat a chocolate chip cookie bigger than my hand.
A little kid was running through the lobby at the buffet, and his shoe came off. I watched Brandon bend down, pick up the shoe, and put it back on the little boy's foot, smiling and being generally jovial.
Why is he so nice and yet so consistently mean?
I'm just not good enough to talk to.
While I was on break downstairs, talking to Ray and A.J., Ray had to lean forward, look at me funny, and announce that I had a mustache. I turned red, I am sure, but I managed to save myself by pulling up my sleeves and baring also the hair on my arms. I'm a brunette. My family was once Russian. Deal with the fucking fact that I have dark hair.
I am so getting a complex with my body. I'm trading it the fuck in.
A.J. was being nice to me, though, and Jessica and I giggled/argued about the cute/not cute boys that came into the buffet. She's more of the American-Eagle-Poster-Boy type, I'm more of the Rivers Cuomo type.
It's just a sort of pensive quality. The honest eyes, the slight stature, the eccentric way of dress. The way people dress says quite a bit about them in our society. Not that one can make entire, lasting judgments on this, but generally a man who is wearing stone washed jeans and an Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt is a far cry, personality wise, than one who is clad in a random band t-shirt and corduroys.
It couldn't hurt to have black framed glasses and unkempt hair, either. I am very much an advocate for unkempt hair.
I am going to go daydream about boys who don't exist now. Maybe when Jody becomes a mad scientist she'll whip out her king-size petri dish and create us a few boyfriends.
astera at 12:41 a.m.