mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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You're making smart choices!

This morning I was declared to "smell weird" & I guess I believe it? I mean, sour on drinks from the night before, peppered with crab dip (breakfast?) & coffee. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I thought: disgusting! Jenny's home today with the strep throat; they gave her pills & such for it, last night. "Urgent Care" they call it; I kept having little panic attacks when I thought of it. Sounds ominous, right? I don't really want her to be in need of urgent care! I'll send my nanomachines into the fray! Or alas, no nanomachines. Not yet anyway. According to her doctor, the Europeans (bastards!) don't even cover strep in their various glorious socialized medicinal plans, since a stiff gargle will prevent it? Well I've been gargling, let me tell you! & let me tell you this too: leaving this morning was not an easy chore. I kept going on & on, gushing really, about how I wanted to shrink her down & put her in my pocket. Bring her to my desk in miniature. Give her thimbles full of soup. She denied that I'd ever be allowed to do so! Heresy, foul foul blasphemy against our legal vows; I'm pretty sure there was something in there about shrinking your spouse, or loving them if they turn into a plant-creature. What! Don't act like Swamp-Thing isn' an amazing romance.

Speaking of Swamp-Thing, yesterday was James' birthday party. The corridor of birthdays-- mine on Saturday. The party, anyhow. I'm absolutely, 100% blowing of Katie's tonight. No doubt. I had some wine (a little bit*!) before leaving to meet at the bar, thinking that a little pre-game imbibing might work to my advantage. It didn't! Or did, if you were trying to get me absolutely wrecked. I was! Boy gee golly, I never go out, & without a minder, welll-- I can't be responsible for my actions! I guess the bartender thought I meant for James to do the bodyshot off her? I would never be so crass; I meant for him to do it off his lady! Notably, there was a lot of cat's cradle, & Tracey wore her proper teeth, & I found Maggie's phone, & was right in assuming that James would get minis. I ran into a girl I used to flirt with at Kit Marlowe & Co. & flirted with her some. I don't think I actually fell down at any point, but I almost certainly staggered! Or well, failed to walk straight. Don't let me drive, occifer! That sort of thing. I am such a drink vulture when drunk; I am. You know it to be true! Search your feelings! Before all this though, a nice lunch with Simon. He winked at me!

Another fascination on the train today: this time with a mystery! Language man, it will sure screw up your brain, & I mean it will screw it up hard. At first I thought the accent was British but then I realized it was another language entirely, like Hopelandic or something. There was a clutch of them; a guy in jeans & two women, one in a pantsuit & the other in a skirt (no stockings). The latter woman was memorizing a speech, & was younger than the other two, & wore literal moccosins. Beads, everything. Amazing, & wearing a swoop haircut, an admirable bob. What are you up to, strangers. Got out at 8th Street-- perhaps associated with NYU? I should convert this into something, this lingering train obsession. Digest it. Make the good bits part of me.

*Not actually a little bit.
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