Could Just Wear an Eye-Patch

I have this problem with my left eye called iritis, which sounds like something made up. As in, "Why didn't I show up for work yesterday? Uh, I had a bad case of....eye-ritis. Yes, that will do."

It's kind of like a combination of how it feels when you get sunscreen in your eye and how it feels when there's an eyelash stuck in your eye. Pretty miserable. And it's especially bad whenever you look at bright light. And what do most modern workers do for 8 hours a day? Stare at a bright, glowing box. Thursday morning at work I turned all the lights off in the vicinity and adjusted the monitor down to nothing, but it still didn't help.

Stupid modernity! If only I was born at the turn-of-the-century and worked in a coal mine or a sweatshop, I wouldn't have this problem. I'd have other more significant problems, sure, but not this particular one.

Suffer for Fashion or Whatever

Wore my new monster high heels for the first time today. I'm still trying to figure out if I was getting checked out, or just stared at because I was walking so oddly. Very stilted - visible effort with each step.

Quoted Vol. 4 - The Wit and Wisdom of Lady Gaga

From the song "Boys Boy Boys":"Love it when you call me legsIn the morning buy me eggs"No, let's post a good one instead:

"I’ve always been famous, it is just that nobody knew." - Lady Gaga.

I'm thinking about being Lady Gaga for Halloween, hopefully people will still remember her by then. It's cool that a female pop star this eccentric is so popular in the mainstream. Can't believe the Powers That Be let this happen....

But beyond the fact that she never wears pants, her album is pretty darn fun. My friend says it is good workout motivation. I can't speak to that, but I will testify that it is an excellent "typing on a keyboard" motivator or "waiting for a bus" motivator.

In Honor of Summer

Brooklyn, 2008

X-Treme Urban Fishing

For about 3 weeks in a row, every time I walked by this underpass moat-y thing near the Tidal Basin, I would see a man fishing. I always thought fishing was about communing with nature and all that jazz, and this seems like a particularly bleak place for that. I imagine all the fish living here have tuberculosis. And who wants to stare at a concrete wall for hours?

What gets Kool-Aid out?

Getting ready to go to the Washington Opera Ball and drinking Crystal Lite, and realizing that I had a bright red Kool-Aid-esque mustache. I guarantee none of the other women attending this party have this problem. At least my dress is red!