2003-11-30

When I was a teenager, I couldn�t wait to leave home. I loved the idea of keeping my own counsel, having my own space and basically doing what the fuck I wanted. Apparently I have never grown up, because I still love the fact that my apartment is my apartment; and I get a rather pathetic thrill out of very juvenile things:

1. Drinking out of the carton. Yes. I stand by the assertion that (soy) milk just tastes better out of the carton, AND, by doing the entirety of my milk consumption standing next to the open refrigerator sucking like a (tofu) calf from a cardboard teat, I am saving dishes, which I think is very grown-up indeed. (�Teat.� Ew.)

2. Jumping on the bed. Actually, my bed is a futon and is utter shit for jumping. But I love jumping on hotel beds, and I have witnesses who can testify to this.

3. Making stupid messes. Though I am generally fairly tidy, sometimes I will rummage through my clothes (it�s hard to find a particular brown cardigan when your wardrobe is burgeoning with brown cardigans � somewhere inside me is a repressed schoolmarm just fidgeting to get out) and then just leave a whole pile of rumpled shirts on the floor for days, simply because I can.

4. Eating the wrong thing at the wrong time. One day I was gazing despondently into the freezer, profoundly hung over and thinking queasy thoughts of breakfast, and a pint of cookie dough (soy) ice cream caught my eye. Why not? I thought. I can eat whatever I want. And so I ate it. I figured I�d probably need some fibre, being very health-conscious, so I completed the meal with half a bag of cookies.

5. Cranking the tunes. This is especially fun since I don�t give a flying toss what the neighbors think. The Pixies are a band that, for the love of all that is holy, simply must be blared at unreasonable levels; they are even better when accompanied by very bad dancing and lots of foot-stomping.

6. Wandering around in my skivvies. Though I�ve never actually caught them looking, the folks in the next building can see very clearly into my kitchen, and I�m sure now and then one of my pajama-bottoms-only foraging expeditions crosses their line of vision. I do so love to brighten the lives of those around me. Well, more to the point, I do so love to strike people blind.

7. Finishing entries without an organic conclusion. Neener! It�s MY diary and you can�t stop me.