Thursday, April 3, 2008

Caesar's Working Late

So I have nothing but time on my hands here to get thoroughly blitzed waiting for someone to bring me food, on account of tomorrow is payday and I have exactly enough in my pocket for the morning papers (there is no morning without the NYTimes crossword puzzle - in ink, I may add) and that damn doughnut. And Caesar is stuck on a job until around 10 pm.

But the ladies have finished the middle of my floor and I must admit it looks divine. Actually, now that it's partially done (and they haven't yet put glue on the bit in front of the icebox (I know, I know...refrigerator, but I'll never be able to say that) I could actually get something to eat - except that then I would have to stomp over the new floor to get to the microwave because the only thing there is to eat is some leftover lo mein, which isn't particularly nice cold. There aren't even things I could eat on crackers. Cousin Joshua is so hysterically into eating for his health that when he even buys things you could put on a cracker (I'll eat just about anything if you put it on a cracker - shades of my cocktail party youth), they're wrong, as far as I'm concerned. Who in their right mind buys sardines in WATER? Aside from the fact that good olive oil is extremely healthful, the whole notion is disgusting. Sardines belong in oil...oil, oil, oil. That would be OIL. I did have them once as a first course in some London restaurant, however, when they weren't in oil. They were fresh, they were just gutted, and they were grilled and served on hot buttered toast. Wow. Citarella occasionally has fresh sardines and I'm going to try this one day - it was so wonderful. Even if I do have to stick my fingers into the middle and haul out their messy little guts...which I will have to do in the powder room downstairs with the door shut, because me playing around with fresh sardines in the kitchen is going to get me an avalanche of cats who want to play too.

This powder room thing is why my own cousin called me extremely weird the other night. I had tried to sleep and discovered dat ole debbil insomnia creeping up, so I promptly went downstairs to eat some ice cream.

Now we all remember those three cats (two and a half cats when you adjust for the fact that Gypsy is sort of half dead in a very alive fashion). Well, all three of them are passionately fond of ice cream, and if one sits down at the kitchen table to eat ice cream it turns into a mad free-for-all, with me trying to get ice cream into my mouth without it getting yanked off the spoon. So now I go into the powder room with a book, a spoon, and the ice cream and sit on the toilet seat (lid down) with the door shut and eat my ice cream in peace and quiet (except for the frustrated yowls and scratchings on the door). Which is when I was surprised by Joshua as I was coming, ice cream and spoon in hand. Which is when he called me weird. Personally, I think it's extremely sensible of me. I find it really hard to eat when I have to beat off hordes of animals with one hand.

Speaking of Joshua, I am finding him way more annoying than usual in the last few days. He turned 60 last October 2, and I really wanted to do something for his birthday, but I didn't have a single cent - I believe I managed to eke out a card for him. He has evidently decided that I should be punished for this dereliction by his ignoring MY birthday - and, being Joshua, has carried it to quite insane extremes. I have literally not laid eyes on him since Sunday. Unfortunately, since LOTS of people celebrated my birthday on Monday and lots more are coming over on Saturday to celebrate it some more, I don't actually give a shit whether Joshua wants to mark the occasion or not - and it's really, REALLY nice not to have to listen to him for a few days. Presumably he will eventually emerge from the den, but I'm afraid this little fuss of his has backfired on him. Giggle, giggle, giggle.

I swear. Nobody should live without lesbians. The girls have gotten to a point where they could get to the icebox and microwave, and Mel's girlfriend Rebecca remembered that I hadn't eaten anything - and by God, she microwaved my lo mein for me and sent it up via Mel. I feel much better now.

I think that I'm going to drink some more beer and wander around the internet picking up weird bits of information...but probably just going to Youtube and looking at bits of the Muppet Show, which suits my mood precisely. Miss Piggy and Rudolph Nureyev doing Swine Lake should just be the thing.

And it'll shut me up! Won't that be nice?

Love, Wendy

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