In my comings and goings, I tend keep a sort of internal running to-do list of things that I don't have time, money, wherewithal etc. to accomplish at the moment. There are big things, like my vague desire to see lots more of Earth than I have so far (possibly with the added perk of a wall map with little pins or blinking lights indicating where I've been a la your standard supervillain), or the yen to figure out some kind of job I can go to every day, not hate, and make lots of money at. These things are largely too scary to contemplate at this time. Let us, then, turn our attention to trivia: there is a laundry list of smaller things, little goals which may seem inconsequential to you but which would fill me with great satisfaction, were I ever to achieve them. Here are a few of them:
1) I will figure out how to keep new socks from turning gray and dirty-looking immediately upon being removed from the package, or, alternatively, discover that no one can do this and all those clean-looking people are just new-sock-constantly-buying posers. (Quiz time: can you guess which one of these I would prefer? Hmm?)
2) I will spend a week wearing impeccably tailored vintage suits everywhere I go.
3) I will go candlepin bowling with my very own candlepin bowling balls, inherited from my grandfather, and possibly a matching shirt.
4) I will spend a day saying aloud all the things I customarily mutter under my breath at people. Possible pre-requisite: the larger goal of developing supernatural powers, such as force fields, to deal with any potential consequences of these actions. My wit can be biting, my friends, but only because it is true.
5) I will break into song and dance in a public place, preferably one of designed drabness such as a subway platform or doctor?s waiting room.
6) I will own a hat with a light on it.
7) I will get in good with some famous movie person, and get them to take me to the Academy Awards, so that I can wear a dress from the Goodwill and when E! asks me who did my fabulous dress I can say "I got it at the Goodwill! It cost $9.99! In your FACE, Versace!" and I will pronounce "Versace" to rhyme with "her face," like from the movie Showgirls.
8) I will overcome my irrational fear of manicurists.
9) I will learn to whistle. Nope, can?t. Not a note.
10) I will go on a road trip, because I have never been on one. The destination is almost secondary to the thrill of the getting there, and the many diners and strange roadside attractions to be found along the way.
Posted by hilatron at November 30, 2002 08:25 PMIf you ever do learn how to whistle, could you teach me? I'm hopelessly inept at that ort of thing.
And I second the road trip motion. Only problem is you can't drive across the Atlantic (to get to Europe) or across the pacific (to get to NZ and Australia.) I intend to see the world. Most of it, anyways; I can skip parts of Saskatchewan and northern Quebec. And probably Wyoming as well.
I can't make any promises, as all previous attempts have resulted in nothing but a lot of silly faces and getting made fun of. However, if I hit upon some heretofore unknown secret, I'll be sure to publish it.
Posted by: Hilatron at December 2, 2002 09:59 AMDoombot is curious. Does Hilatron wish the shirt to match the grandfather or the bowling balls?
Also, while Doombot is not prescient, Doombot's special powers allow it access to certain aspects of certain mortal pasts. Doombot would like to remind the Hilatron that it has already pulled off the thrift-store dress thing, and for even less money, in a different, not-Academy-Award, albeit quite lah-di-dah, setting. Replete with Vanderbilts and Rockefellers, no less.
And finally, Doombot submits that fear of manicurists is far from irrational. Those beings work on people with fungi growing under fake nails. Bleeaagghh.
Posted by: Doombot at December 2, 2002 08:26 PMEr, bowling balls, I think.
And, oh yes, I well remember the uber-sequined seafoam green dress that was worn to a certain soiree, much to the bemusement of Laura Ashley-clad peers. Good times! Unfortunately, on a day-to-day basis, I fail to live up to such fabulous standards. However, a recent sojourn into the depths of my closet yielded some promising results.
Last: sure, manicurists face some scary things. But should they not be lauded, rather than feared? Can we fault them for the diseases of the fashion victim?
Posted by: Hilatron at December 2, 2002 08:37 PM