I tried to find a birthday present for my mother yesterday. Instead, I ended up buying myself these two sweet bracelets at the Art Institute gift shop. I think Mom would be disappointed, but I also suspect she would not be surprised.
Right now, somewhere in my apartment, there is a packet of ashes. Yes, they are Bruce’s. Not all of them, but a baggie of them in an envelope that I got at his memorial service. Which was LAST SUMMER.
I’d thought I would take them to Paris with me last winter to scatter in a poetic, meaningful place. But I chickened out at the last minute because I thought security would take them out of my suitcase and throw my ass in tourist jail. So I’ve still got these ashes. And I don’t know what to do with them.
I am inordinately fond of fruit punch.
I totally had a catharsis yesterday. At work. During my mid-year review. But it was kind of awesome and my boss was awesome and was like “Do you wanna take the afternoon, clear your head?” and I was all “Yeah, but I have work to do.” But I did go for a walk to clear my head. Which is how I ended up at the Art Institute, buying myself some bracelets and having chocolate parfait for lunch in the museum café.
I’ve started using The Daily Plate to keep track of what I eat. It’s like Mint.com but for food instead of personal finance. There are special die-uh-beet-us features! It figured out my BMI and how many calories I should be eating! It’s like Lance Armstrong himself is sitting next to me, nicely patting my hand and saying, “Girl, you need to lose some fucking weight and here’s the proof.” but, like, in the NICEST way possible.
Last night, I had a low (78mg!) while watching, appropriately enough, “Come Dine With Me”. I don’t really watch this for the food. Just the bitching and sniping and passive-aggressiveness. Last night’s episode, “Swindon”, featured three ladies and one gentleman taking turns hosting each other for dinner. After each meal, the guests rate the meal and whoever gets the most points wins. I wish the clip embedded below showed the scene where Annette freaks out when Mark jokes that she is a lesbian. All while Imelda (Filipina living in England for 30 years! her house has mustard yellow walls) tries to eat her stuffed tomato while wearing a tiara.