well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

That pretty much sums up my past fews days. Extra credit to the first person who can name the source of my title for today's post.

First of all, Thursday night I had dinner with the lovely and lively learning-librarian Lauren. She has a picture of us posted on her blog, one where we were a) stuffed full of wonderful food from the Dupont location of Heritage India (I had the eggplant and jalapeno peppers in sesame sauce, though, myself, not the saag paneer as Lauren did); b) the picture was taken in the dark, on the street, by drunken St. Patrick's Day revelers whom we accosted by thrusting the camera in front of their face and saying, "Here, will you take our picture?" and c) I am at a weird angle, and my eyeliner appears to be run under my eyes, and my hair appears to be non-existent.

And poor, patient Lauren, who called me from outside my office, and I was continually stopped and prevented from meeting her, so she was stuck in Mickey Mouse Hell for awhile, and then I ran upstairs and out the door, and then realized I left my coat in the office, and then had to run back downstairs and through the basement to get my coat, and back upstairs and out the door, where some tourists from Ghana visiting this fair city accosted me and asked me to take their picture in front of one of the many Mickey Mice (I think in this case it was the Tron Mickey Mouse, which is weird, really, because nobody really seems to want their picture taken with Tron Mickey), and I jostled the with my elbow, screaming, "NOOOOO!" at the top of my lungs and quite nicely, really, because I didn't swear, even, and caught up with her looking at the faces of every person walking by to see if maybe this was Rebecca, no, was this Rebecca, no, was this...? And no, the irony in my denial of the random photography act doesn't escape me. My karma came back later with the bad image of me while Lauren looks fresh and pretty.

I went to Takoma Park tonight and saw a laser light show of Arthur Loves Plastic at the planetarium of Montgomery College. The music and company was great and we went out afterwards for drinks. On the way, I managed to get my ear pierced in the cartilage again.

So, I have interview questions to answer from la fucking twatzilla bitch. I'll get back to her (and you) on those. I notice that she didn't bother to ask me about whether or not I'd like some green cotton. Perhaps it's because she knows where I'd shove it, wrap it, cram it, and twist it if she had. Based on her questions, it appears I really am becoming the porn librarian knitting blog. Glad to know where I stand in the universe, as I said. Although it appears in one day my Google standings for the keywords "let's fuck on the couch" have fallen from #2 (and I was #1 last week) to #23. This is mother fucking unacceptable, people. I think it's because I haven't fucking been fucking swearing enough lately. Fuck. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.