Sinister: no, i'm not from "town", but thank you for alienating me anyway

m.e. curtin mecurtin at xxx.ca
Mon May 21 03:02:33 BST 2001


Hello.  I decided to make use of both upper and lowercase letters
today.  Let's see how this pans out.


A certain Mr. S. Kado made mention of an all-consuming shoe finding
compulsion.  Oh my friend, if you only knew how I understand your
pain.  My case involved a life-defining mission for authentic
Wallabees.  Thanks to the dusty shelves of a certain Florsheim outlet
store, I found them.  A green pair and a brown pair - both for the price
of one.  Yes, the one benefit of having mallard-duck-like-sized-feet (I
wasn't sure where to put the hypen so I put it everywhere) is that a girl
like me can find herself some men's shoes.  Not good for vanity, but for
style it is crucial.  Of course, that was several years ago, and now the
stores are filled with cheap and unconvincing knockoffs.  It really
bothers me.  To the point of desperation really.  My newest find was a
pair of bluegrey booties (think nouveau desert boots) at an odd little
store in Kin-of-Cardine (in the heart of Huron County...or something like
that).  They make me happy.

Anyway, this is not quite on-topic but is anyone else annoyed with the
Moulawn pronunciation of Moulin Rouge?  To say nothing of the fact that
they say "Marmalawd" and not "marmalaid".  Wow, funny the things that
bother me.  I actually spent a good fraction of my day wondering how long
it took to scrape all that makeup off Christina Aguieleisiskdlealdjalara's
face.

On a lighter note, I was publicly called a freak by the girls behind me in
the cinema (or the show, or the the-ay-tre).  I was with my best friend
(with whom i bear no personality resemblance - she's the blonde
cheerleader type who judges potential boyfriends on how they look in a
turtleneck sweater and I ... am not) and we were laughing uncontrollably
at things no one else finds funny.  Mind you, this was all well before the
movie began.  We forgot there weere other people around us, but during one
lull in our mirthmaking, the girl behind me whispered "Oh my god, those
two are such freaks!"  Well, thanks a lot.  You could tell she realized we
heard it and was quite embarassed.  Still, it hurt.  Just because I was
telling her about how my roommate and I had a sexchat racket going on
doesn't give her the right to call me a freak.

Speaking of sexchat rackets, I'd like to know who screens these
things.  My roommate was once clearly annoyed to find that one of her
messages to the Grapevine (free for ladies anytime) was not
admissable.  In her words:"Fucking hell, I didn't even say cunt!"  I
hazarded a guess that her wanton use of pseudo-Christian references might
have been the rationale for deleting the message.  I just wonder who gets
to decide what's too dirty for sex chat.  I also wonder what the
qualifications are for screening all those messages........hmmmm.......how
positively gothic, but decidedly not freakish.

Final thought.  I keep automatically associating "take your carriage clock
and shove it" with the marx brothers.  I can't explain why.  Two of my
favourite things are perpetually intertwined.  (ISn't intertwined slightly
redundant?)  Belle and Sebastian meet A Day at the Races.  I know it's
bizarre but it's the truth (man).  You know, my inner spirituality calling
out for a voice (man).  Sorry, I just had to be snarky there.

Truly and deeply yours (until you kick me out)
Marybethhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

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