Um... has a truer statement ever been written? It's just another reason why I wait eagerly and impatiently between each episode (or whatever you call them) of Daily Intel's Sex Diaries. They make me realize that I am definitely not alone in feeling as frustrated with my love life (or current lack thereof) as I do. And they're damn funny. After each one I want to go write one myself, until I remember oh hey, if I'm going to write something for a column called Sex Diaries, I should probably, oh I don't know, be having sex.
So, in other news, I adored my outfit today. It was a white with yellow striped shirt tucked into the super tight pencil skirt that makes me feel like Joan Holloway from Mad Men with my long multi-colored pearls. It was great, until I got to work and looked in the mirror and thought OH SHIT YOU CAN SEE EVERY DETAIL OF MY BRA. White with black polka dots, black lace edging, even the seams. Usually that doesn't bother me. I've been known to wear see-through shirts without a camisole underneath on more than a few occasions. But never, ever, EVER to work. Then somehow in the time between sitting at my intern-cubbyhole on the computer and running down to DROM on Ave A to pick up James Galway's sheet music (Flight of the Bumblebee. Come on, I realize it's for an encore, but can we be less original?) the seam at the back of my skirt split. Like, it wasn't anything indecent really. It was the seam right on top of the zipper where the fabric meets. And the skirt is lined, so there was no ass/underwear peak-age. But still. Combined with my obvious black and white polka dotted bra, I was such a hot mess.
Later on, when I was on the way back from tasti d-lite (yes, I sometimes do go out with the express purpose of going to tasti d-lite. Especially now that Maddy got me a gift certificate, even if it is for the tasti up by union square, which is like, 20 blocks away. I just think of myself as a intrepid explorer, fighting my way through hordes of tourists like Lewis and Clark fought their way through grizzly bears and mountain lions. Except my reward is not the sight of the Pacific but a cup full of green-tea flavored, chemical laden pseudo-dairy product.) a man stopped me on the road:
Man: Miss! Miss!
Me (stopping, because I had just given another man directions to Joe's Pub and I figured he needed directions too): Yes?
Man: You are very beautiful.
Me: Ummmmm....thanks.
Man: What's your name?
Me: Uhhh...not giving it to you.
Man: Ohhhhh you're scared of black men, aren't you.
To which I proceeded to walk away.
Like, come on.
1 comment:
Joan is so fucking fierce.
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