don't i feel like a heel.

i was joking yesterday when i told the tattoo artists at the shop that i was probably high from breathing primer all day.  kind of.
but apparently i lost more brain cells than i realized.  see i spent the day as i have the last many, coordinating the renovation of a new tattoo shop.  it's wildly exciting and all, and i've been happy to log extra hours watching this space which had formerly been brutalized by bad color choices transform into ours.

yet all day i felt vaguely that i was forgetting something.  i chocked it up to the overwhelming list of things to be done and proceeded to pinch my finger in the door on the way out.

any plans tonight? my friend who'd hung new sheetrock asked.
oh no, just this.

and after i finally closed the roll-down gate and looked back at our progress, feeling a great sense of satisfaction, i dropped some artwork off at the studio, swung by my friend's place to give hugs to counteract her blues, wandered aimlessly into target (yes, my wild 11pm on a saturday night outing to target), then got hit on by the guy in a truck on atlantic avenue making me the best falafel i've ever had.

while ALL THE WHILE, friends who i really care about were toasting their birthdays!   it started at 6:30 while i was still huffing primer fumes, with ben, who usually receives a loaf of fresh-from-the-oven pumpkin bread from me (i even bought the pumpkin earlier in the morning!).    then continued at 8:30, probably not too long before i closed up the construction site for the night, with dear barbara, who i haven't seen in god knows how long.  damnit!!

and the only way i realized my mistake was to see barbara this morning on facebook.  here is what prompted my 'oh shit' moment:

back to the shop today.  if you are my friend and i've committed to some kind of plans, clearly my leftover brain cells need a reminder!  

12 april 2009 easter sunday: keith

11 april 2009: heather loop

10 april 2009: abi

click to enlarge.

two years later and i'm still posting '98 pictures of 98 people'.  it's interesting what distance from a project will do.  i'm startled to look back on it now and realize how unfinished i was when finals came around.  so many of the images, like this one, never got text.  in my memory it was only a few, but now it's showing to be quite a substantial chunk.  i vowed i'd come right back to those neglected "few", but now it's just how they are.  maybe a welcome breath in a long rattling story.  some of the text was successful, some just long winded.  

you miss spackleshot? how about some ranting?!

i miss blogging.  i miss the pre-facebook world when i read people's blogs and they read mine.  i'm not saying it was better.  i think it's terrific that everyone participates in the micro-blogging of facebbook.  i just miss it.

so i resist the urge to post the following rant to facebook and instead will post it here (this post will automatically post there anyway--not than anyone even clicks away from facebook to read a blogpost anymore...).  even though it is absolutely as exhibitionistly public as can be, somehow it seems more...privately mine.

so here i wind up.

dear man in line behind me at the bodega,

can you please explain to me what exactly you hope to accomplish by arguing with me "last word in" style that chicken stock tastes better than vegetable stock?  are you really all that concerned that i'm missing some nuanced flavor difference?  did i even ask you?  did i, a voluntary vegetarian of 23 years, seem like i was wavering and you thought you'd put your two cents in to help me with this tough decision?

this is a really stupid thing to rant about.  it just gets so exhausting to talk about it EVERY DAY.  


and while i've got the petty gloves on, let me address another daily conundrum that seems to be of utmost importance in these trivial, nothing-to-talk-about times.  if i didn't have lady parts, would you feel the need to ask me WHY i buzz my hair?  think of how ludicrous it would seem if a man had to answer that question 10 times a day, or if a woman had to explain her bob or ponytail...  

and by the way, man in line behind me at the bodega--i double dog dare you to make a butternut squash soup that tastes better than mine.