mamapants

I don't know about YOUR Target, but OUR Target has a magical Box o' Picture Frames that just happens to include 10 shiny black metal gallery frames, and it just happens to be $4.98. And I might have bought two, because that's the kind of sucker I am. I see it, it's on sale for some horrifically low price, and I MUST HAVE IT. Time to find a blank wall for a photo montage, I suppose. Again.

ANYWAY. Hi. Good day today, which included the abovementioned purchase and the delivery of my first photo CD to my first real paying client, who nearly wrapped her arms around my face with glee. I'm relieved that it's over, because I was panicking about her looking at the pictures and saying, "Hm. Well. You tried, anyway. FRAUD." But I'm also sad, because now I don't have any more gigs* lined up, and I really want to make more of my nifty CD labels. Oh well, the marketing stuff should be here soon, and if it's not cheap and scary-looking, I'll be dropping it in doctors' offices and Gymborees all over town.

* I like saying "gigs." It makes me feel like a rock star, albeit one with slightly wider hips than standard, and a slightly smaller cocaine problem.

On to the question of the day, as it is Question Week. Anne asked me these questions, as pertaining to one of the places I lived in college:

1) What was the best part?

Anne was my roommate twice, most recently in the Almighty Allston, which we shall not discuss because the bathroom ceiling collapsed on our third roommate, Lee, and nearly killed her, and I think the lawsuit might still be pending. Kidding! It just sucked, so any conversation about it would just be about it sucking, which is only interesting for the first four words or so. The first place we shared was in the Bradford, campus housing for the lucky few sophomores who could get in. I kind of liked it... our apartment was right next to the front door, which meant we could smuggle in both Naval Academy boys and alcohol with effortless ease. And being on the first floor was also handy, because when the RA busted us (in what has since been termed the Valentine's Day Lonely Hearts Massacre) several of our more enterprising party guests could attempt flying leaps out the window, leaving us to face the wrath of the self-righteous little toady who stole our beer AND reported us. I think we may still be on probation.

2) What was the funniest part?

The Massacre, you know it was. Those Navy boys we took up with were just ridiculous. And yet some genius in Washington is allowing them to protect our country. Feel safe, y'all, because the kid who threw up Goldschlager in our bathtub and then professed his love for everyone in the building is protecting the home front. And carrying weapons. AWESOME.

3) What was the most ghetto part?

Purple Shirt Guy, the poor semi-homeless man who sat on the benches out front at all hours and ranted about ethnic groups, women, cab drivers, Labrador puppies, shower tiles - whatever struck him as offensive that day. And oh man, could he rant! I had never heard some of the words he came up with, especially when talking about the Asian girls Hopkins was stocked with. I believe he spends a fair amount of time in a certain hospital where another certain former roommate is working... And if he does, you tell him that the Tits-Up White Bitchsucker says hello.

4) What was the dirtiest part?

Weeelll, you'd have to define "dirty." As in, dirty like the crusty tuna salad container in the back of the fridge that we all patently refused to clean? Or dirty like hooking up with the NA quarterback, you badass? Because we were all kinds of dirty up in there, and this particular flashback? Has been WAY FUN. Next!

Posted in: old school, work on 11/07/2006 at at 10:29 PM