Sinister: takin' muh time

MyMomSays at xxx.com MyMomSays at xxx.com
Sat Feb 9 21:00:20 GMT 2002


Sinister,
    Allright, so this film Storytelling is out: I've heard some seriously 
mixed reviews about the film.  Two of my friends said it was one of the best 
movies ever made.  Another friend said it was truly terrible.  I also heard a 
rumor that there is a wanking scene to "The State That I Am In": confirm 
rumors, folks.  I can't sleep at night over here, tossing and turning over 
this bizness.

    Also, another question:  How is it that my last post, which was truly 
crap, generated *two* crush votes? My mind boggles.

    I just finished reading a post by Baker, baker and found it truly 
engaging.  Good show, ma'am/mister.  She/he asked us to describe our homes; 
it's odd, because as much as I pretend to despise Colorado, sometimes I 
really love it here.  It's home, I guess.   It's hard for me to prescribe the 
word "Home" because I seem to behave and see everything with a Tourist's eye. 
 A few years ago I was out for the afternoon with some friends and I realized 
that I act like a tourist wherever I go.  Nearly everything seems fun and 
charming and distanced from myself.  Even at the mall, the store displays at 
the Limited Too, even though completely ridiculous, I find myself ordering 
around people to take pictures of me in front of such window displays.  Even 
at my local grocery store, I buy souvenirs from vending machines.  This 
morning I drove home from Denver, and I remarked at the dust flying around 
like a tourist would: "My, it's windy here," as if I come from some place 
where it isn't windy--does this mean I'm from nowhere? Hm, who knows--either 
that, or it merely accentuates the fact that I'm a "schizotypal" freakazoid 
(Editor's note: the author recently took a "personality disorder's" test and 
was deemed "highly" schizotypal).  I think, really, though, that this 
phenomenon merely boils down to the fact that I am pretty much amused by 
making fun of nearly everything.  I recently revisited the film "Ghost 
World"; I kept finding myself irked at the nihilistic nature of Enid 
Coleslaw's commentary--but then--I realized that I am oh-so-guilty of this 
same thing!  Now I find that I am ultra-sensitive to my own commentary and 
speech.  The other night I ran into a kid I sort of knew last year.  I was 
sitting at a coffee house, trying to read Greek Mythology and he decided to 
sit down with me and CHIT CHAT for a little while.  I innocently talked with 
him, and sooner or later my bullshitter persona took over and I found myself 
sort of behaving like a hybrid of a valley girl and Phil Hartman; I told him 
a story about the fact that my computer monitor at work is blue and how 
people walk by my desk and say, "How's ole' BLUE doin?" and then, after I was 
done telling the story, I started cackling.  He looked at me, confused, and 
said: "How is that funny? I don't understand how that's funny."  And... I 
couldn't explain how it was funny.  
    As for what Gina and Baker, Baker were talking about--I feel incredibly 
jealous I cannot attend picnics and drink-a-thons and gigs.  I really don't 
prefer anonymity;  I'd rather meet the lot of you in person than hide in 
front of my computer, basking in pastifying monitor light. 

Have a nice Saturday, kids,
Mandee xxxx
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