Waking up to reality

Friday, June 4. I just got word from T.D. (beloved secretary of the department/resident mother hen/translator of Mighty's every insipid word and move to department greenhorns) that our appointments just came down from admin. Now we have no excuse to not show up at the office. Dang.

I just remembered bopis telling me not to call Mighty Mighty, because he is anything but.

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And now, a new treat from bananaducky: I promise to include in every post an anecdote about Nanay.

Today's installment: The other day, Nanay asked me what type of bellybutton I have. I told her mine was sunken. She proceeds to tell me hers is too. (My head goes 'Gee ma, good for you.') She also tells me that earlier that day, she took a look at hers
and discovered...

...she's got a really dirty bellybutton.

She felt bad about not cleaning her bellybutton as often as she should. I assured her that I really couldn't care less about mine. Unless I'm dead bored.

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I've been spoiled rotten by my friends' late night habits. For around two weeks, I've found myself in late-late-night conversations with them (K. and L. on the phone and the neighborhood bar, bopis and needles at the casa, A. at her townhouse/halfway house to friends who 'need a place to stay'). Now, K. and L. are missing from the social radar. Bopis and needles won't be in LB until Sunday or Monday. A. is busy with thesis and family. I am left with Deleuze and Guattari and ETC channel. The latter has been giving me a much-needed dose of late-night talk show host Conan O' Brien who, in my opinion, is the coolest guy of Irish extract since Daniel Day-Lewis. (I suddenly thought of Jeremy Irons, but realized he's Welsh.)

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Beautiful afternoon. First, a slew of Queen songs. Now it's Sting's turn. Sigh. :)