Tomorrow's Roposcope
04/05/2002
G R E E T I N G S Gemini
You feel held back by an imaginary power. This is not the opening you
seek, and now is not the time for sharing. What you do is nobody's
business but your own. You don't have to lie. Just don't offer any
more information than necessary. You may be a double agent without
even knowing it, Gemini, but the reality of it is much less exciting
than the romantic image suggests. Watch your step.
Damn, and I wanted it to be all romantic! I thought I was Mata Hari there for a second.
Anyway. Today was Brenda-my-masseuse's first day back from vacation, and I haven't seen her in months and oh, it was all bad. I'm already in pain. Of course, I was already in pain, hence my visit to Brenda in the first place, because no matter how lovely it sounds to go for a massage every week or every month, I really only go when I need one desperately, and poor Brenda has to lecture me on stretching and such. And I don't stretch, and I see her again in a few months. Anyway, I'm as tired as all get-out, and today's massage might have been the most painful ever. Sigh.
Forrest desperately wants me to write about Walter the Gay Phone Guy who came to the house the other day. I think that Forrest should write about Walter in his OWN LiveJournal, which he only got so I could put him on my friends list and he could be in the know with MY LiveJournal. Fo is a trooper and is currently priming the hallway. Then we shall leave to get back to Hollywood, sleep and come back tomorrow.
I have so many piddly things to do that just don't get done.
I need to:
--Pay my rent, since apparently there was no "last" in my "first/last/deposit" at my current apartment, so I need to pay half a month's rent for this month.
--Deposit a check before someone stops payment.
--Mail some stuff.
--Buy one of those bath rugs shaped to go around the toilet. I was in there the other night with bare feet and that's some cold tile.
--Rip out some more carpet. The bedroom is carpet-free now, and even staple-free. This same treatment now needs to be done to all the other rooms...
Speaking of that, Forrest seems to think that most people have crowbars in the trunks of their cars. Do you? I'm thinking, "No, I do not have a crowbar in the trunk of my car, as I am not a psycho mass murderer." But Fo posits that it has something to do with changing a tire. Me, again, I'm thinking, "Is Forrest mistaking a crowbar for, say, a JACK?" Anyway, he wants a crowbar to pry the wood that was stapled to the ground by all the baseboards, to hold the carpeting down. By the way, those dang staples can hurt your fingers.
Oh, and I walked into a wall in the hallway while Forrest was priming it white. My shirt was black. Guess who lost? Count one more shirt in the "to wear only at home" pile, I suppose.
Trixie made us tacos!
Held back by an imaginary power!Ropo
G R E E T I N G S Gemini
You feel held back by an imaginary power. This is not the opening you
seek, and now is not the time for sharing. What you do is nobody's
business but your own. You don't have to lie. Just don't offer any
more information than necessary. You may be a double agent without
even knowing it, Gemini, but the reality of it is much less exciting
than the romantic image suggests. Watch your step.
Damn, and I wanted it to be all romantic! I thought I was Mata Hari there for a second.
Anyway. Today was Brenda-my-masseuse's first day back from vacation, and I haven't seen her in months and oh, it was all bad. I'm already in pain. Of course, I was already in pain, hence my visit to Brenda in the first place, because no matter how lovely it sounds to go for a massage every week or every month, I really only go when I need one desperately, and poor Brenda has to lecture me on stretching and such. And I don't stretch, and I see her again in a few months. Anyway, I'm as tired as all get-out, and today's massage might have been the most painful ever. Sigh.
Forrest desperately wants me to write about Walter the Gay Phone Guy who came to the house the other day. I think that Forrest should write about Walter in his OWN LiveJournal, which he only got so I could put him on my friends list and he could be in the know with MY LiveJournal. Fo is a trooper and is currently priming the hallway. Then we shall leave to get back to Hollywood, sleep and come back tomorrow.
I have so many piddly things to do that just don't get done.
I need to:
--Pay my rent, since apparently there was no "last" in my "first/last/deposit" at my current apartment, so I need to pay half a month's rent for this month.
--Deposit a check before someone stops payment.
--Mail some stuff.
--Buy one of those bath rugs shaped to go around the toilet. I was in there the other night with bare feet and that's some cold tile.
--Rip out some more carpet. The bedroom is carpet-free now, and even staple-free. This same treatment now needs to be done to all the other rooms...
Speaking of that, Forrest seems to think that most people have crowbars in the trunks of their cars. Do you? I'm thinking, "No, I do not have a crowbar in the trunk of my car, as I am not a psycho mass murderer." But Fo posits that it has something to do with changing a tire. Me, again, I'm thinking, "Is Forrest mistaking a crowbar for, say, a JACK?" Anyway, he wants a crowbar to pry the wood that was stapled to the ground by all the baseboards, to hold the carpeting down. By the way, those dang staples can hurt your fingers.
Oh, and I walked into a wall in the hallway while Forrest was priming it white. My shirt was black. Guess who lost? Count one more shirt in the "to wear only at home" pile, I suppose.
Trixie made us tacos!
Held back by an imaginary power!Ropo