life done write

You’ll all be happy to know that I’m approximately 4/5 of the way through the New and Improved version of my book. That’s right kids–you won’t have to pal around just with Michael the Foot Fetishist. Oh, no, you get so much more than that. Now you also get to meet the girl who microwaved her bra, one insane (yet inspirational) hitch hiker who smelled like Nothing Good and my ex-boss who was a swinger and also mean.

There are a few things I’ll confess to have struggled with (and/or be struggling with):

1) The Parentals: obviously, they say some very silly things and do some very silly things. How many of said silly things can I include before getting cut out of the will?

2) Names: I’d like to use real names in some cases (though I have changed the names of most of the Total Retards who went on dates with me and proposed while grabbing my foot and mentioning casually that they still live with their mom and want to have sixteen babies please). Again, though, in some cases I’d like to use real names. Would you want your real name used–if it were you?

3) The dialogue: I just so happen to have Tons of ridiculous quotes and conversations noted in my journals from college and New York (hoorah!), but I’ve written down much less from Denver, it would seem, which makes it harder to recreate the conversations–as I do want them to be as true-to-life as possible. Hmm. Any ideas?

Boom shaka laka!

You can’t tell because it’s tiny, but I’ve just prematurely added Switzerland to my list of countries visited. By prematurely I mean that I’m still at work (though probably useless, as I’m just contemplating my Swiss adventures at the moment and not being particularly productive), still in Denver, still in the old US of A. But soon…soon…there will be fine Italian vino, cold Swiss lakes and a cabin with a waterfall next to it.

The most recent conversation with my partner in crime (Roommate #1):

Gigi: Exciting news! We are booked in a cabin beside a waterfall in Lauterbrunnen!

Roommate #1: How romantic for us.

Dear Man With the Amazing Smile,

What is the deal? Making a girl wait three whole days for an email. Maybe more. I’ve already wasted an hour of my life trying to stalk you online with the Very Little Information you provided about yourself.

Get on it already.

Love,

Gigi

P.S. If you do not get on it soon, I understand. Obviously it is because you like dudes. Good luck with that.

Okay. So, first off, I do love animals. I own one. I’ve grown up around them. I like them. Mostly.

But I will say that there are certain breeds of dog that I’m less inclined toward. Meaning, anything that drools. Drooling = not okay.

I’m also not okay with animals that people are not keeping under control. Just the same way I hate children whose parents let them run around the laundromat screaming and throwing people’s laundry in the garbage (you know who you are). Same thing with dogs. If you are letting your dog go crazy at a concert–jumping on strangers, making incredible amounts of noise, etc.–STOP THAT. You can leave your dog at home, people.

The reason I bring it up is this: last night at Wash Park’s Sunday night free concert (yeah!), I was sitting in the grass with my Luna and my book. Luna was rolling around on the cool grass in happiness. I was reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Music was playing in the background. All was well.

Until a woman walked over with her fat, wheezing bulldog and sat down right beside me. Not a few feet away: right beside me.

Firstly, her bulldog was the loudest breather I’ve ever heard in my life. I think I made a joke to the people behind me at some point “imagine trying to sleep through that!” The thing was snorting and wheezing and just generally sounded uncomfortable. I’m sad for your dog, as it seems to have a medical problem, but could you please leave it at home or stand in the way back of the crowd where it won’t bother anyone?

Secondly, her bulldog was out of control with the DROOLING. And it kept shaking itself, making drool fly through the air and land on any person within five feet. I happen to know (from the angry looks all around) that I was not the only person totally grossed out by this. Again with the PLEASE SIT IN THE BACK or DO NOT BRING YOUR DROOLING DOG.

Thirdly, the dog wanted to be my best friend. And the woman couldn’t hold on to its leash for whatever reason. So every couple minutes, the bulldog would launch at Luna and I, landing alternately on my lap, my purse and my dog and covering each of them in drool and grossness. I asked her more than once to please keep her dog off me. I was nice about it, so it made me even angrier the second, third and fourth times it happened.

Eventually, with a wet pants leg and purse, I got up and left, feeling totally gross.

Thanks, Assholes of the World who think that you are the only people on the planet and gosh darn it everyone should love your dog, even if they can’t hear over its breathing and don’t want a sticky spit bath.

Jerk-style.

.One.
This weekend at Starbucks: met the world’s most attractive man. Mostly deemed so because of a kick-ass smile that made his eyes crinkle up in an adorable way. Also, nicely built. Also, amazing eyes. If said man does not email me soon, I am going to be considerably sad. And may try to stalk him online anyway.

.Two.
Feeling very freed up at the moment after finalizing most of the details of my later-this-summer Europe trip. Finalized details include two new shoe purchases specifically for the trip and two other new shoe purchases that I couldn’t resist. Oh yeah.

.Three.
Happiness is a much greater attractor than attractiveness. Or at least that’s been my experience. The less stressed I am, the more I get hit on. Thus the eight-month-long dry spell that coincided with being over-tasked at work. See? Also thus the exceedingly many pick-up lines used on me this weekend while I was happily plugging away at Switzerland planning and writing things I love.

.Four.
Yesterday, while out drinking at one of Denver least fine establishments (Falling Rock Brewery — mean, unresponsive staff, gross facilities), was hit on by a strange, drunk and frightening looking Asian man who was holding my married friend on his lap. Totally awesome. Also, said hitting on happened diagonally across a full table of about 10 people, causing everyone else to stop their conversations and listen to my awkward…”uh, no…I don’t have a boyfriend…uh…” Good freaking times.

.Five.
Did I mention the man with the amazing smile? Because I would like to snuggle him please. Thank you.