Tag Archives: 11:11

With a doodle and cock

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Hey internet, hey baby. Who’s a good girl!

It’s still 11:11 twice a day, and we all know that is lucky. It’s true, it is. Why do I notice 11:11 all of a sudden? Is it the Lord? Is it Fibonacci? Is my clock broken? Who is trying to tell me something? Oh, it’s iCal. It says I have a lot of work to do. Drat. Hi, iCal, hi. I like your pretty colors. This has all happened before. I am special, and there is money stuffed in my socks*.

But seriously, this 11:11 thing is a big old deal. A lot happens on November 11th. Did you know that in 1634, the Irish House of Commons passed “An Act for the Punishment for the Vice of Buggery?”

The nosy church billboard down the street says “ATM Inside: Atonement Truth & Mercy.” I guess they do not manufacture vinyl commas for those boards.

I went with a friend this morning to pick out a board to display photos of her father at his funeral next week. What is someone going to pick for me some day? It’s too much. I am going to have everyone I love slaughtered as if I were a pharaoh, so you may not want me to get too attached to you. My father plans to die at a specific time. I do not doubt that he will achieve this, because he’s just that stubborn.

*Not really, but it would be nice, provided the money were in the form of large bills, and the socks were loose enough so as not to constrict when this extra volume is considered.

Wee paws for station identification

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OMG, Internet, OMG. We’ve been on quite a spree around my place. The clocks are all flashing 11:11 at least twice a day, and the sink isn’t clogged anymore.

We went to my little nephew’s “parade” for Little League opening day. It was pouring rain, and we stood in it while hundreds of children swarmed around the block, led by a police car that occasionally flashed its lights. It was a real zen koan of a parade: Is it still a parade if no one is watching? This didn’t really bother my nephew, because he is a star. He is doing jazz hands in the group photo.

So what the fuck else. I’m learning Mandarin Chinese, and that’s tough. The inflections are a killer. You think I’m kidding, but I’m afraid I’m not. The more plausible something seems, the more likely I made it up. So if I’m telling you I brushed my teeth, I probably didn’t. Bought tickets to Easter Island? You bet!

I was having dinner with some friends the other night, and we were doing “roommate rundown.” I mentioned someone I’d lived with for three years, and idly wondered what happened to her. After dinner, we stopped at a bookstore, and her father stopped me in the Shakespeare aisle and gave me her phone number. Noo noo noo noo, twilight zone. But why is that if I say “I wish I had two billion dollars,” I never run into that in a bookstore?

Then today I think we impulse-bought a loft. We were just out for a walk, and then a little of this and a little of that, and some business cards were exchanged, and things were signed, oh boy. We should not be allowed out without supervision. My lawyer is gonna love this. Oh well.

Then I called to tell my parents about the loft, and somehow I ended up having a conversation with my mother about anal sex. For the record, she’s not that into it, but I suggested that she just didn’t give it a fair shake.