Why Trent Reznor still fucking rules and probably always will...
MTV had negative credibility with me anyway--and to think we complained about them back in '91, about how little of substance and rebellion still remained in that whole concept!--but this takes them to the sub-basement of sellout hell, in my book.
What a sham we've become, this whole generation. Thank god there are a few of us left who won't give in.
In other news of those who won't give in, and who, in consequence, totally fucking rule--can you stand it if I mention the Brit again? On yesterday's ride home, he told me something that no one else at work knows about, something having to do with his history. Having been sworn to secrecy I won't go into details, but suffice it to say I now find him more awesome than ever. He's actually taken to waiting for me at the end of the day even when I don't have the car, so we can walk to the El together. Which is great, but now when I walk in the door at his building, I'm starting to get those LOOKS from the rest of the staff. (You know the LOOK--it's a slightly-older version of the look you get from your maiden aunt when you're eleven years old, right before she says "Oh, how wonderful--you're growing BOOBIES!") And of course I blush--as I've said before, I'll blush not just at the drop of a hat, but even at the suggestion that a hat might someday be dropped, anywhere, at any time--which does NOT exactly convey the cool, nonchalant image I'm striving for here.
(An aside: right now I'm listening to "Fascination Street"--best Cure song EVAH. I'm a big fan of abortive story-songs, where you come into the scene right in the middle and you're left with all sorts of mysteries and unanswerables. Most of the Afghan Whigs stuff is like that--particularly _Gentlemen_ and _Black Love_, either of which would easily make my list of Top Fifteen Albums To Play On Infinite Loop While Fucking. If I HAD such a list. Which, of course, I don't. Um....yeah.)
My task for the weekend: a room-by-room analysis of what it would take to whip the Catastrophe into shape. LJ and I were talking about whether it might not be wise to sell this house rather than sink any more money into its repair. While my stubborn, I-can-do-anything side rebels against the very thought, my practical side acknowledges that yeah, it might not be a bad idea. I think the crux of that decision will be made by whether or not I get this new job, and then whether or not I can refinance and get the money for repairs. It's a good house and I think I can make it amazing, if only I can get the money to fix the few major things that are wrong with it. I don't think I'll make that decision for a while yet--my bankruptcy is scheduled to drop off my credit in about nine more months, which will improve the lending picture considerably--but it's worthwhile to think about it.
My other task for the weekend: more updates. So off I go to...well, probably to do something else entirely. (But at least I'm honest about it.)
I blush at everything too! Oh, the joys/horrors of turning redfaced when you are trying to be a)cool and collected, b)flirtatious and collected, or c) simply collected. And said blush often results in a discussion of that begins with..."wow, you just blushed!" As if I didn't know!
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