|Thursday, August 8th, 2002|
12:59a - Someday I'll Be Gone
Tonight I went to dinner with Mya at Fresh Choice, and all would have been hum-drum, except for the fact that a) They've stopped selling the Newsweek with the director on the cover, and b) I was mauled at Fresh Choice. Perhaps 'mauled' is putting a bit of exaggeration on it, but there most definitely was a violation of personal space.
*Note to self-- buy this month's Rosie magazine... Donny Osmond is on the cover!!!*
Donny Osmond is a sexy beast. And he has nice, big teeth, and good grooming and breeding, and the capacity for many wives. I want to be one of them! Har har! Donny Osmond loving!
Anyway, dinner. Mya and I were wearing our anti-space invader helmets (same as the tinfoil hats seen in Signs) and minding our own business, eating our strange food. Mya likes to put Fresh Choice chicken broth over vanilla ice cream and eat it like that. She says next time we go to a nice restaurant we have to order rosemary chicken a la mode. Vanilla ice cream only!
So we're eating, and suddenly I feel furious hands on the spike of my helmet, trying to pull it off my head. This was not possible, as it was pinned. But I turn around, expecting to see someone I knew, like Stefan for instance, just playing around. Instead, I turn around to see a little boy, couldn't be more than 6 or 7 years old at the most, panting furiously with a look on his face that was part exhilaration, part fear, and part anger. His mother yelled at him from across the restaurant, having seen what he'd done, and he high-tailed it to the bathroom or somewhere.
Mya was laughing, but trying to hide it because I was extremely freaked out, I was gasping and saying, "What the FUCK?". It really scared the shit out of me.
Later on in the evening it made me laugh, because Mya said, "He's just a little kid. I mean, he probably thought, 'Fuck, it's pointy and shiny, what the fuck is it?'" It's still scary as hell though, because the thought crossed our minds that he could be an alien and not want us to protect our minds. When he came back across the restaurant about 20 minutes later, his mom demanded loudly that he apologise to me. I accepted his apology and waved in their general direction.
"Thowwy," he said. His speech skills weren't advanced enough for him to know what he'd been doing, really. Perhaps the mother was an alien too, furious that he had blown their cover? I overheard her saying, "Don't you ever touch anything that doesn't belong to you!"
Then we thought perhaps he did things of this nature often, like maybe he had a problem with kleptomania.
Either way it was half hysterically funny, half terrifying.
Only to me do strange things of this sort cling, and follow me everywhere and happen at all the turns. It's very frequent in Fresh Choice, too. Even more frequent in Concord.
The point is, hang around me and you won't be bored, whether I am doing something strange or someone else is doing it to me.
Everyone we passed who had seens Signs as well knew what we were up to, and that was gratifying. It meant we had crafted the helmets correctly. I was even approached by an older man in the Safeway parking lot, who told me that he had the same idea. To think that someone besides a silly teenager would wear this sort of helmet about town gave me a bit of faith in humanity. I wonder how much his wife would object, however...
There I go with the married men thing again. *sigh*
current mood: mischievous
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4:56p - Random [Dismaying] Observation #665-708
What you work hard for.. that's never satisfactory,
What is given to you free and clear, you don't appreciate..
All the in-betweens must be what life is all about
current mood: restless
9:48p - It's Contaminated.
Guess who just saw Signs for a fourth time this evening?
It was me!
It's going to take at least ten until I get bored. And I'm on an every other day schedule. Not that this is of any real importance.
I saw J.P. at In-N-Out Burger a while back. I don't know what made me think of that, but it was extremely weird. When I last left him, we were both about to be freshman. Then, when I saw him again, we had both graduated, but kept in touch via computer. We met at a camp in Nevada City and since I lived in Benicia and he lived in Vallejo, we decided to keep in touch. Plus, I had Candy's address and he didn't. Candy was this really attractive girl who worked in the kitchen with me, and all of the young boys wanted nothing more than to touch her boobies all summer. I, of course, got very little attention.
The nurse paid attention to me. She told me that 'people with coloured hair often have emotional problems'. Even though this was true in my case, I felt extremely offended by this and wrote her off as an enemy for the entire summer. The head of the camp and she hid our mail from us, because one of the little bitches that worked in the kitchen had cried and carried on about being homesick when she read a letter from mommy.
You know what that girl is doing now? She's the pond-scum of leadership and believes herself to be responsible for doing important things, such as calling upperclassmen and schmoozing when she's supposed to be telling them that they forgot to pick up their prom pictures. I am afraid to pick up mine. It was a $70 package and I think I was making a stupid face and Stefan was making the west-side hand gesture for kicks. My mother would be so pleased. Oh well. She's leaving for Myrtle Beach and while she's gone I can just smuggle them into the house and she will be none the wiser.
current mood: remembering
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