30 april 2004

stephanie (14:35:42): ok i have a joke.
stephanie (14:36:20): chicken and egg, lying in bed. chicken is smoking a cigarette, all like :))))) and egg is all like >:(((((((
stephanie (14:36:38): and egg is all, "WELL I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION."

The SUPER-AWESOME smiley faces make it even better!!

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I'm not sure if other people have these, but I have the strangest triggers in my brain that are associated with the most common of activities. I was just telling Elise the other day that I had this friend in high school who told me, while we were watching soap operas one day and a commercial for O.B. tampons came on, "I can't imagine someone using tampons that make you touch yourself like that!" Annoyingly, I think about this almost every goddamn time I use a tampon, and hope, for the girl's sake, that she overcame this fear of TOUCHING HERSELF, OMG!

Another trigger that drives me semi-crazy is related to the Vonnegut book Cat's Cradle. Every single time I look something up in an index (EVERY TIME! FOR THE PAST 10 YEARS OR SOME CRAP!) it reminds me of (have the trivia heads guessed it yet?) that lady in the book who is an expert at indexing, and can tell the most private of details about a person from the way they chose to index the book. She divulges that the indexer of the particular book they are looking at is homosexual and doesn't love his beautiful wife! I wish I had this power, very badly. I consider how I would index things, and wonder what this says about MY SECRETS.

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The elevator here in the building at work is janky about its door close button, and I'm pretty Type A. (Another thing my head gets reminded about all the time and/or whenever associating Type A personalities and the need to close the fucking elevator doors instead of standing there and twiddling thumbs: someone once telling me that they could wipe out the entire Type A population via biochemical warfare dropped upon the elevators' door close buttons. I started using the number buttons from then on, because at my old posh office, you could just press a number as soon as you walked into the elevator, and it would act to light that number *and* close the doors! Type A's unite!) The trick to getting the doors to close without having to wait like upwards of 5 annoying stand-still seconds in this crotchety old elevator is to reach in and press the floor number you want before the doors are all the way open. If you succeed, you can press the door close button AT YOUR LEISURE! If you fail, it is 5 seconds of slump and faze out time for you! So you kind of have to reach your arm in as soon as the doors start opening, before you can fit your entire body in, and lean forward with trusting abandon to press the button. It is a crucial matter, and to be honest, it gets my heart pumping in the morning! But today, there was a BROOM and BUCKET in the way! I lean in, I swerve in panic, I envision myself bludgeoned by a broom handle, lying in the doorway of the elevator, the doors trying to close over my wrecked body, over and over,

AND THE DOORS CAN NEVER CLOSE!!

Dum dum dummmmmmmmmmm.

xoxo,
m

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