What does the dirty napkin say?

I think I need to learn how to be one of those people who can effortlessly live in the moment. And by I think, I mean I definitely do, because the amount of time and the amount of sleep I lose fretting about the future and about things that are completely out of my control is staggering. 

I've also decided that it would probably be in my best interest to get over myself, because I've come to learn that nobody cares as much as I think they do.

I guess the bottom line is that after everything, I'm still absolutely terrified of being a failure, of wasting time, of being alone, of regret, and of losing the ones I love the most.

I probably shouldn't be bitching while Michael has suprisingly NOT died at the hands of the oral surgeon and has miraculously been given a second chance at life.

And I should probably be feeling pretty badass for getting interviewed by a police man patrolling LHS who thought that Kristina and Page and I were up to no good this evening while we decided to visit the new ampitheater behind the theater and dance/holler. Now that I think of it, I should be REALLY thankful that that police man:
1. Didn't have a hankering for some sour apple Altoid gum.
2. Wasn't around 3 months ago when nothing happened with nylon masks and duct tape, mostly because that probably would have been more difficult to explain.
3. Didn't mistake my jitteriness and overly apologetic demeanor for the after effects of cocaine.

So we all are pretty lucky, after all, and in the grand scheme of life and all that could go wrong, I have it pretty good. 

I just wish I could know for sure that I'm doing everything I need to do in order to take full advantage of this little life of mine.

Someone call the girl police.

My last Sunday at LnT, kicking off my last week until moving back to le city.

Sad.

Except not really. Today's Sunday Coupon Recipients weren't AS maniacal as I've known them to be in the past, so that was great, I sold the same highly phallic double spoonrest to two separate people before Kristina's shift started, so I had to chuckle quietly to myself instead of having someone to share the hilarity with. Then I got called into the office so that I could verify my price overrides to Jill the Manager, which was a relief because I was originally worried that she was going to call me on giving my employee discount-which is supposedly not to be shared with anyone who does not claim me on their tax returns as a dependant-to everyone and their mom. 

But then I remembered that I work at Linens N Things.

Anyway, so I'm pretty excited about my new apartment and learning my way around Beacon Hill and starting my producing job for Fast Foward Rewind, and receiving the complimentary Crew T-Shirt for Fast Foward Rewind, and for my classes and for fun to come, etc. etc.

I'm also pleased to note that I have found a goof in Titanic that, as far as I know, has been overlooked even by IMDB. You all are dying to know. I'll share.

Okay, so during the illustrious Portrait Scene, I have always been way distracted by Rose's nakedness and otherwise caught up in the moment, so much so that I never noticed that the lovely, firelike glow that lights the scene is created by a large, square, halogen lamp placed directly in Rose's fireplace.

I really love it.

Simple and easy assembly.

Work today was surprisingly enjoyable, considering I started at 6:30 AM. I think I mostly just like hiding out on the floor somewhere, opening boxes and avoiding the guests.

Yesterday in Boston with Kristina and Jen I accomplished many tasks which included purchasing an embroidered, built-to-last, heirloom quality Emerson sweatshirt, signing my landlord contract for my new apartment (if I give birth or adopt a child under six this year, I need to let him know so that he can get the paint checked for lead), and vetured out to Lechmere, the absolute last stop on the Greenline, to go to the Cambridge Side Galleria and oogle shoes and Macs. We were also approached by Veronica of Veronica and Company herself, who mans a ceramic curling iron kiosk and begins her spiel by enthusiastically jumping out in front of people and exclaiming "Hallo, let me SURPRISE you!" Unfortunately it wasn't all fun and games, as there was an extremely ripe man just stewing in his own BO centimeters away from us on the redline back to Alewife.

Oh yeah, and can I just get a PRAISE THE LORD for WINGS OVER WORCESTER?!! Now I can get succulent honey barbecue chicken with celery and smushy fries in forty minutes round trip as opposed to two hours down a vacant road through cell phone darkness. Not that the chicken wasn't worth the risk, but I'm all for convenience.

I'm all for health, too. I'd love it if we all could keep it that way.

I take thee, Circus Freak.

Finally watched The Shawshank Redemption and caught up with the world. It was great. I also discovered that the theme I've been wondering about, the one that's always in the background of trailers for inspirational movies, is from...The Shawshank Redemption. I wish someone would have told me.

I've also been working a lot, which makes me feel like such a robot, especially when I get a short circuit and accidentally ask for a "guest's" phone number twice in fifteen seconds. All of the monotonous hours I've spent scanning barcodes and stocking candles had better pay off someday, when the screenplay for May I Start With Your Phone Number: A Glimpse Into the World of Retail gets discovered by Steven, who will offer to produce it, thus making Kristina and me famous. For now we're just looking foward to August, when the Yankee Candle Scent of the Month will finally finally change and we won't have to smell Midsummer's Night aka Midsummer Man Deoderant any longer. Also September will be cool too, when I can STOP working there for, hopefully, ever and find a relevant job where fifty percent of my coworkers do NOT represent the demise of America.

My roommate is officially a Celtics Girl, which is the Boston equivalent of a Laker Girl, which is awesome. Jack Nicholson loves Laker Girls. Meaghan will probably get to be some other celebrity's obsession, how cool is that?!

This year will rock, oh yes it will. If for nothing else, than just for the discovery of melon gelato.

Coming ATCHA!

Hm. I'm upset that Andy Milonakis is thirty. This information is going to haunt me for hours. I used to think he was this oddly impressive and clever adolescent. Now I'm creeped out. It's just too much.

The things I love most about working at LNT are, in no particular order: Damaged food/Floam, co-workers I couldn't make up, co-workers I legitimately love, sniffing candles, subconsciously sassing "guests", feather dusters, and the fact that I get to semi-quit again in three months. Today I thought about how cool it would be to film a ball of Floam slowly sinking into a pancake and then speed it up to make it look like it was morphing. I also ripped my work khakis right down the inseam, from crotch to knee, two hours before I got to leave. Thank God for aprons. 

Lost is irritating. But at least now we know why the plane crashed...maybe. Whatever, Grey's is hot.

I can't decide how I feel about Extreme Extended Family Weekend in Canada this weekend. 

I would like to go back to Boston someday very very soon. I'm missing Sicilia's, and I guess I'm missing my little room-bihds, too. 

Duty calls again tomorrow, so bed is probably a good idea. Gotta rest up for all the dusting and stapling and sniffing.

Cannes-tastic.

I just wanted to let you all know that if you don't see me for the next few days, it is because I have jetted off to Cannes for the film festival.

So if you think you'll find me "doing my little turn on the catwalk" in Fabulous Designs by Natalie or working at Linens N Things this weekend, you are sadly, sadly mistaken because those are all just lies I told all of you so that you wouldn't be jealous of the fact that Cannes is just so so so beautiful and when you throw world premiers of The DaVinci Code, Marie Antoinette, and Paris, Je T'Aime into the mix, well, you can see why I wanted to protect your feelings.

Psyche.

Friends don't let friends eat grocery store ice cream.

Last year learned that sometimes it's possible for people to just suck, and that's all you can and need to say, because that's all there is to them. They suck.

This year I've learned that those beautiful flowery paintings that you may or may not have seen of Boston Common are in fact done from life. I've never seen so many huge flowered trees look so fantastic before in all my days. I've always loved the contrast of flowers in the city, like those huge bouquets of tulips that people sell in the subway. Any flower looks more beautiful in the subway, and flowered trees and mini gardens look that much more beautiful when they're scattered around the city. I actually think that even the bums and the heroin dealers that are usually in the Common acknowlege how pretty everything is, and just disappear for awhile to let people enjoy the grass and the baby leaves and those damn swan boats that are just too appropriately picturesque for words.

I love mes amis and I love May and I love Berry Berry Berry Good in a waffle cone and I love Wicked and I love Grey's Anatomy and I love tomato/basil/proscuitto/mozzarella sandwiches on sesame bread and I love little sprouts of ivy and I love John Williams and I love beating the Red Sox Rush on the D Line and I love Emerson, even though they refund me $30 for a $115 psychology book that I barely touched and I think I love Hint of Lime Tostitos, but I'm not quite sure yet.

Everything that sucks, well that's too bad for you because you have to deal with the fact that even Hint of Lime Tositios are more likeable. 

And that's saying something, because tortilla chips covered in limey powder are pretty strange.