Saturday, October 16, 2004

Buttplug-o-gram

Tonight, while half-asleep on the couch, the phone rang. I was the only one home, and the phone is never, ever for me, so I didn't answer it. Here's what was on the answering machine:

My mom's voice: We're not here. Please leave a message.
Douche: Um...buttplug? Ah, buttplug.

Today I went pumpkin-picking with my family, and took some actual pictures on actual film on my actual camera which I am going to do something with. It'll be cool. I also bought large black boots which I thought were "sophisticated" and "sleek" at the time, but on further inspection at home I think they're more "hooker" or "Catwoman." To be clear, I didn't buy these at the pumpkin field. Things I did buy at the pumpkin field include the following: pumpkins, a cookie, an apple. I bought two tiny pumpkins for my desk, and concluded that I, after all my posturing and liberal arts education and left-leaning politics, am nothing but a bitch to the Man with a desk that I want to seasonally decorate.

Speaking of work, I spent the last three days in intensive computer training with my good friend Produckplanung und Managementsystems. I sat next to a nerd who's a new editorial assistant in the math division in our Cambridge office. I can't express what a complete dork he was; if you think of the kind of kid who would go to Harvard and major in math, and then decide to stay in Harvard and work for mathematics journals, I don't think you're quite picturing the giant, giant dork that he was. RobERT, not Rob. I also can't express what a giant, overwhelming crush I had on him. I seriously considered pinning him against a wall and making out with him on a coffee break. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Everyone is baseball insane in New York. All I hear on the train in the mornings are commutermen updating each other on the previous night's game against the Red Sox. I can't say I'm a huge baseball fan, but I honestly, in my heart, believe that you cannot be a good person and like the Yankees. It's like rooting for Starbucks. The Yankees aren't winners because they deserve it, they're winners because they had the best business plan. The Red Sox have heart. I respect the fact that they sponsored a whole bunch of little league teams around New York just to piss off the Yankees. That's balls.

I need to stop buying clothing specifically for the impossible event that I run into Robert Verdi of E!'s Fashion Police. He is my only thought while getting dressed at 5:00 in the morning.

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