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dragonlady7Celebrity nite tonight at the airport: first Richard Simmons came by, clad in shorts and white sneakers, hair frizzy and big, and he was carrying a pillow almost as large as himself. My manager ran out and asked if she could take a photo with him, and got one on her cellphone. He's no taller than she is, and she was impressed by how genuinely cheerful he was.
Then Eliot Spitzer, NYS attorney general and possible (declared?) gubernatorial candidate, came by and ate a salad. Nobody talked to him, though. He was accompanied by a pair of foxy sleek brunettes in power suits. I'd always thought he was tall, but he's not-- he's quite slender, which makes him look tall, but in person, he can't be six feet. He gives the impression of a Kerry-like tall-lean-ness, but he's really not that big.
Drama at work, but I am too weary to recount it. I came home and took a bath, but the hot water heater is so goddamn wussy that the water just didn't get hot, so i actually boiled a pot of water on the stove and dumped it in the tub to raise the temperature to something slightly warmer than, you know, my blood.
I also fixed myself a drink, which henceforth I think must be part of any bath experience. Preferably Scotch. Mmm.
Oh I'm sleepy. But, one final word to the wise: When searching for something somewhat trippy and moody to crank up real loud whilst you're lounging in the bath (as you have the house to yourself, since your boyfriend's out with one of his buddies and leaving you in peace), don't choose Pink Floyd. Too many sound effects gives one the impression that people are inside your house or, like, landing on it with helicopters. Not very restful.
I did, however, have a rather amusing daydream in which I wrote a scene from a thriller novel about a government agent who sneaks into this girl's house, only to have her pull a gun on him. You know, I wish I had a pistol. I wonder how hard it is to get your pistol permit in Erie Co.
Then Eliot Spitzer, NYS attorney general and possible (declared?) gubernatorial candidate, came by and ate a salad. Nobody talked to him, though. He was accompanied by a pair of foxy sleek brunettes in power suits. I'd always thought he was tall, but he's not-- he's quite slender, which makes him look tall, but in person, he can't be six feet. He gives the impression of a Kerry-like tall-lean-ness, but he's really not that big.
Drama at work, but I am too weary to recount it. I came home and took a bath, but the hot water heater is so goddamn wussy that the water just didn't get hot, so i actually boiled a pot of water on the stove and dumped it in the tub to raise the temperature to something slightly warmer than, you know, my blood.
I also fixed myself a drink, which henceforth I think must be part of any bath experience. Preferably Scotch. Mmm.
Oh I'm sleepy. But, one final word to the wise: When searching for something somewhat trippy and moody to crank up real loud whilst you're lounging in the bath (as you have the house to yourself, since your boyfriend's out with one of his buddies and leaving you in peace), don't choose Pink Floyd. Too many sound effects gives one the impression that people are inside your house or, like, landing on it with helicopters. Not very restful.
I did, however, have a rather amusing daydream in which I wrote a scene from a thriller novel about a government agent who sneaks into this girl's house, only to have her pull a gun on him. You know, I wish I had a pistol. I wonder how hard it is to get your pistol permit in Erie Co.
