March 28, 2004
I was at the gym today and a woman staggered in clutching her chest and said, "My heart hurts!" I thought the guy behind the counter didn't seem suitably panicked as he dialed 9-1-1 and then casually asked his colleagues "What's our address again?"
"There's a woman here… I think she's having an anxiety attack," he told 911.
"It's a heart attack!" I thought. "She said her heart hurts!"
Typical man. Of course he was right. It turned out to be nothing. The woman drove herself home. She also got cute paramedics in tight little uniforms to show up and talk to her. Clever.
When my heart hurts, I dial 3-1-0, the L.A. area code. Hearing about which famous people my friends are meeting and which new indie film stunk up its Hollywood screening feels better to me than mouth-to-mouth when you're secretly conscious.
I was thinking about the resuscitating power of gossip… and the end of my 50 dates. As a woman, I reserve the right to change my mind frequently, preferably when it's most inconvenient. Sometimes I plan on keeping the web site going after the dates are done, with updates to the diary on my usual infrequent-but-riveting basis.
Lately people are cruelly suggesting that I set the counter back to zero and go on another 50 dates or casually referencing my "100 dates" as if I can't read my own tagline. I'm on hiatus right now, by the way. I haven't had a date in a whole week.
My point is, if I continue the site after the dates are done, it loses some of its gossipy aspect -- I mean, astonishingly brilliant writing is one thing… but if you're like me, you want dirt.
There's no point to this, except that I'm not sure of the future of the site and just between us, I heard that Quentin Tarantino is very hard to work for…
March 25, 2004
I just saw that Santa Monica is making it illegal to smoke at the beach. Good old Santa Monica. I used to live there. It's funny to me that they're regulating the outdoors. In Seattle you can smoke in bars and restaurants, but lots of the apartment buildings are non-smoking, and it's not just the lobbies and hallways that are regulated -- you can actually get kicked out for smoking in your own apartment. Smokers huddle by their own living room windows or stand out in the rain outside their buildings.
I don't think I want to end up with a smoker. Or someone who's poor. Guys who don't have any money are always trying to tell me how superficial things don't matter in a relationship. Next time someone says that to me I'm going to say, "Great! I've been so hoping for someone who doesn't mind if I put on 50 lbs."
March 24, 2004
My big eBay lawsuit was settled in my favor. As I'm sure no one could forget, the plaintiff left me negative feedback in which she claimed that I sold her a shirt that stinks. Her argument was thrown out on the grounds that I don't sell shirts. I'm thrilled to report that my feedback is now back at a richly deserved 100 percent.
In other news, I'm fixated on losing 10 lbs. Since there's no way I would even consider giving up meals carefully designed to include as many calories possible, I'm working out at least an hour a day instead. I'll keep you updated, as I'm sure you will all be tossing and turning at night, wondering "Did Amy go to the gym today? Well what did she do there? Has she lost 4 lbs? 5? I must know now. I must!"
Finally, I got a letter the other day from someone named Ian who is looking forward to the publication of my dating-advice book. Since I'm not writing one, I'm not sure if Ian is a brilliant visionary or just has poor reading-comprehension skills. It's not a bad idea, though. I mean, I prefer to write funny, biographical short stories, but then again even an advice book would be better than selling shoes on eBay.
March 15, 2004
I just realized that in three weeks it will be the 10th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death. I want to do something on that day, but I feel embarrassed because you know it will be like a bunch of kids and then me. Too bad I don't have a kid, because then they could be my beard for all the immature things I do.
If you're under the age of 16 and you live in the Seattle area, please contact me and we can hang out for a few hours on April 5. Better yet if you are 15 or 16 and have at least a learner's permit, then contact me as I don't have a car and maybe you could borrow one from your parents.
Applicants who have additional availability to go to comic-book stores and video arcades one day a month will be given priority consideration.
[I know a lot of you are stopping by for Cobain info. I don't really know anything, but last I heard the official word from the City of Seattle was that they don't really want to celebrate a heroin addict who killed himself. Unofficially, he still seems pretty popular. The only real memorial to him is his old house, which I'm sure is thrilling for the people who live there now. I visited it a year ago as part of my Rock & Roll Tour of the World.]
March 9, 2004
About six months ago (maybe it was a year. Who can remember? The parties and men are pretty much a blur at this point), I met a European man at a cocktail party and he asked for my number. He called that week to ask me out for drinks and I accepted. He called back that same night to change the date to meeting for coffee. I hesitantly accepted. He called back again to change the date to just going for a walk. He confessed that he has no money as he is currently between jobs, but that where relationships are concerned, money shouldn't matter and by the way, how big is my apartment?
We never did go out.
He emailed me with a question about one of my eBay auctions recently. He wants to buy a pair of Italian pumps for a "lady friend." He was using her account, her email address (from her business), and apparently her house. He didn't realize the shoe seller was me...
While her feedback was 100 percent positive, not so sure what his would be. I've thought for quite some time that someone should create a database of men which would feature feedback from ex-girlfriends and wives.
A woman could type in the name of a prospective date and see if he's married, if he's ever been married and his dating track record.
Comments like "he's a total asshole" would be strongly discouraged, on the grounds that they are too general. Comments like "he spent $150 on our first dinner date and told me he'd like to bring me to that same restaurant to celebrate our silver anniversary someday, then he slept with me and never called again" would be the sort of helpful information that I, for one, would be proud to provide as a public service.
March 5, 2004
When I was in high school I sang in a really good choir that was actually sort of hard to get into. We had to audition for five or six weeks and they would post who made the cut at the end of each week. It was brutal. In the spring we would go on a big road trip across the country. I can truthfully say I've performed at Red Rock. In a tight adherence to the Separation of Church and State, one of our songs was "Blessing, Glory, Wisdom and Thanks". I'd like to share my own interpretation of that piece with you now.
Wisdom: My computer contracted some virus at a Disney site (and do not even get me started on people I know who got their SAG cards by being characters at Disneyland, just... if you're a parent, maybe don't leave your kid alone with Pluto as he probably dropped acid that morning). I have about a half billion pop-up killers going at any given time and now when I need a pop-up (like for my eBay), it freezes my computer when I click on it. This only happens in AOL, though. The pop-ups work fine with Explorer, but there seems to be a hostage situation there, because whenever I Google anything, say "Brad Pitt divorce rumors," Explorer struggles through and slows my computer. Can I get some tech love here? How do I fix this?
Thanks: Thank ye, thank ye to all who write to me about my many, many horrible spelling mistakes and broken links. I don't have time to write back to each of you, but only a good friend lets you know that your skirt is tucked into the waistband of your pantyhose after you come out of the bathroom.
Glory: I'm pleased to see so many of you embracing the Bunk, Debunk page. I know new features can be scary. You tenatively sniff it then quickly log out and discuss it with your associates in hushed tones, then briefly log on just for a moment to look again... I like it too. It's not as Me Me Me blahdiblah Me Enough About Me Let's Talk About You, What Do You Think of Me as the other 98.4% of the site.
Blessing: I guess that's the fact that I let you read my web site in the first place, you lucky!
March 2, 2004
I'm having the worst couple of days lately. I have a ton of writing ideas, but no time due to eBay, a company I'm currently hating. Someone left me my first negative feedback yesterday, which would suck under any circumstance, but is worse as she didn't even mean to leave it for me. I emailed eBay and they said it is "virtually impossible" to accidentally leave negative feedback since there is a page that asks you if you're sure you want to leave it. It's that kind of flawgic that the Bush administration is based upon. Apparentally getting feedback removed is harder than getting rid of a computer virus, yet another thing I'm grappling with right now. On a much brighter note, I thought up a great idea for a new page called Bunk, Debunk where I'll use my almost supernatural powers of perception to crush some relationship myths for you all.
March 1, 2004
As much as I wanted to look at Johnny Depp for as long as possible last night (did you notice he has gone back to his 21 Jump Street hair and also was being so sweet and modest in the pre-show interviews, unlike his usual attitude at being appalled about having to be in this country?), I was pulling for Sean Penn to win Best Actor. It's the only reason I tuned in at all. I was also pleased that he snarked, "One thing actors know, besides that there were never any WMD…" When Tim Robbins won early in the show I was praying Pleasesaysomethinginappropriatelypoliticalpleasesaysomethinginappropriatelypolitical, but no such luck.
What a snoozefest, especially if, like me, you haven't seen Lord of the Rings. My mind had four hours to wander...
[Well, it's a day later and I have no idea where I was going with this. To quote Steve Martin, "I don't remember what I was going to say." "Well it must not have been very important then." "Oh, now I remember. I'm radioactive."]<<< home >>>
