emma b. says

Monday, March 15, 2004

technologically inept

I still can't quite figure out how I manage to double post from home, nor make links and link my email. - shout out to DW in Teh-has, if you have any clues they would be mightily appreciated.

But first more weather inanities.
Hot, hot hot, hot. By San Francisco standards, that I (oh who the fuck cares)
walking down Haight in shirt sleaves, marvelling at the spelling of sleaves, it is hot, moon is absent, sky is low-slung and careless...
I could pursue that image and I think I shall, picture a sky low slung and careless, like a thong peeking from a pair of jeans, think Britney Spears, think a line of bar stools and the wide, welcoming "M" of thongs, remember the old Nair commercials, who wears short, shorts. And then give it up.

I was on my way to dinner with FLFF. We had a rather fine time, and as always there is a first for everything. As it happened he decided that he must have the faux lame nehru jacket that our server was wearing. Persian's perogative, he got it, at an easy %400 mark up. I made the comment that it was the first time I had dined and taken the servers shirt...

And that I am writing at this hour is a pretty clear indication that I did not get a proper "tucking in"

But in the balls out department. I did leave a VM for lovely MS.

In world news our good Gallic friends make the claim that they have come close to nearly capturing nutty OBL. The Spanish have dropped us, mud is flying, and, hello, it is 76 degrees in the middle of March.

I am wracking my brainicle for some lovely words, but they just won't come.

I need a dance partner.

Si, senior, I would love to tango, oh you meant that my hair is tangled? Mea culpa, mea culpa.


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