i say what i mean but i don't mean what i say

mom called me in the middle of the season one queer as folk where brian skips babysitting to go to the leather ball. she needed my little sister's social security number, and asserted that it was somewhere in a file cabinet drawer ('the top of one of the [four] file cabinets!') marked 'important papers.' needless to say, such a drawer did not exist; it was in the one labeled 'financial records,' not with the other social security cards but with some twenty-year-old health reports from dad's childhood. no, i wasn't thorough; i found it by accident.

since (back to queer as folk) i had rented volumes four and six instead of four and five by mistake, i returned four and got five. it was pouring rain, so to reward myself for the trek to the video store [and finding the ssn], i bought the chamber of secrets dvd [fully intending to charge it to mom]. it was cheap [$13], being pre-viewed. i only realized yesterday that we still don't own sorcerer's stone. will no doubt have to go to target, or wal-mart, for that.

i spent fifty dollars on groceries last night only to discover that, for the first time in my life, we're out of olive oil. i had to make a greek pasta salad with canola. boo.

(no subject)

my mom's so nuts. she's like an extra character in a disney movie.

what do i say?

i didn't know that it was possible to screw up biscuits, but somehow i have managed. maybe it was the shortening. maybe it was because i didn't sift the flour. i don't think it could be because i didn't roll out the dough and use a cookie cutter? in other food news, after i went to all of that trouble yesterday to find out how to steam spinach, i actually forgot to buy it when i was in the grocery store. so tonight i had all but two of the ingredients for a pizza.

blah blah blah. etc. everything is so quotidian when i don't spend my life on the internet. soothing, but silly to write about. and it's more bothersome to type it out than to experience it...

wow. daniel radcliffe. is so. pretty. i mean. really. his cheekbones. dude.

alright, alright. back to your regularly scheduled programming.

edit: no sooner have i typed it than i am forced to give a little giggle. big gay andy's back from vacation and wants me to do some typing! and he sent me the cutest big gay e-mail that starts with the price of gas and ends with alice's restaurant.