Valleys of the LOLs

I take three four different types of pills every day. Two pills I take once a day, the other two twice a day. One of the twice-a-days is actually three large pills. None of these pills are shiny like the ones in Valley of the Dolls. They’re white or peach in color, and easy to swallow as long as I have some water on hand. It doesn’t say as much on the bottles (at least I don’t think it does) but probably not the best idea to wash them down with booze.

My bedside tray is beginning to look like this one shelf in my parents’ kitchen, where all of their pill bottles are lined up, alongside the cheap reading glasses my dad buys, 3-for-$14.99 at Walgreen’s. I don’t know what to do with the empties — are they recyclable? Should I black out my name and address on the label should an enterprising pill entrepreneur go through my garbage and try to get refills? Good luck with that.

Yesterday I went to my second-to-last class for Vocal Technique 1 at Old Town. Gwen explained the schedule changes in classes for the day of the Halloween recital. A recital in which I (and everybody else who will be in Vocal Technique 2) will be singing backup for “The Monster Mash”. The backup part goes something like this for the verses sung by Milo:

Wa-ooooh!
Wa-ooooh!
Wa-ooooh!
Wa-ooh!

And then the chorus:

He did the mash!
The monster mash!
He did the mash!
He did the mash!

It should be easy. The backup part for the chorus is one note. The second line changes in response to the verse:

Chorus 2: “They did the mash”
Chorus 3: “They played the mash”
Chorus 4: “It’s now the mash”
Chorus 5: “Now you can mash”

It’s like some strange conjugation that only occurs in novelty songs.

Yesterday was a beautiful sunny fall day. Naturally I had nobody to spend it with. I thought about schlepping over to Fantasy Costumes to look for components of my Halloween costume. But the sight of the southbound Lincoln bus told me to change course — reverse! reverse! — and instead I ended up on Lincoln and Paulina. I thought about eating some lunch but didn’t feel hungry. Light-headed, sure, but I attributed that to all the deep breathing at class.

I wandered through The Ark, but the thrift store didn’t yield anything Kim Jong-Il-esque. Dinkel’s Bakery didn’t have anything for a costume but they did have, you know, pastries. There were all sorts of fancy cakes, pies, and (what’s another word for baked things?), um, SNACKS but I didn’t want anything fancy. I got two doughnuts, one for walking and one to eat while watching Mad Men. I’ve never had a plain cake doughnut that tasted so good. I bought an apple danish, too. That was just okay.

A lady and a greyhound stood on the corner of Lincoln and School, the greyhound wearing a plastic cape advertising greyhound rescue. I slipped a dollar in the pocket on his cape, and petted his soft head. He had the wettest, blackest nose. Before I kidnapped him and tried to sneak him into my no-dogs-allowed apartment building, I walked east on Belmont to Uncle Fun.

Uncle Fun was cramped and a little dusty, but in a fun way, not creepy like The Ark. I found many toys and funny cards and props but nothing for my costume. Except for a bootleg United Nations flag. The adorable clerk wished me luck.

I lost steam at Something Old Something New. Not even the cupcake sample I’d snagged at Bittersweet was enough to keep me going, though I was pretty sure I probably could have had some costume luck at Ragstock or Hollywood Mirror. It was my own dumb fault for not eating, though I thought the sugar in the doughnuts could have bought me some time for more browsing.

I made it back to “my” Walgreen’s (the one on Belmont & Broadway, where the infamous Maurine* works, which may as well be my second home) to pick up some prescriptions, ogle the cute clerk (OMG what is wrong with me? I’m just ogling cute boys who are way too young for me all the time), and go home for a late, late lunch.

* Seriously — after the maybe-not-so-late Jean Le, Maurine is my favorite neighborhood character. You either love her or you hate her. I tend to think that if you get to know her, you love her. Maybe even find delight when her antics piss off customers. I know I do. A search of store reviews on Yelp! for “Maurine” and “Maureen” produces a few results. Sadly, no results for “cute redheaded clerk” yet.

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