Alyssa Milano, bless her little heart

I met up with my high school best friend,guinevere33, yesterday. We had dinner with her parents after an afternoon with our friend Avery, who has been living in Hollywood and, apparently, been Alyssa Milano's body double on Charmed for two years. We had a long talk about how much we didn't want to see almost anyone from high school again¹ and I strong-armed J into being my bodyguard (well, ride) at Friday's brunch meetup, provided she can make off with one of her parents' cars. Since she will have to be at some wedding party brunch on a riverboat later, I will be able to escape early that way. I've been writing, and reading a very little, but not much else, really, and have made the foreordained meetings with none of the family friends who expressed interest. I guess I will see them at church on Sunday. The bad news is that thelionforreal couldn't make it out to see me after all.

The bridesmaids' dresses are the colour of Pepto-Bismol, similar to the shade of bubblegum for those who don't intimately know that colour, floor-length strapless satin with horrifying fuchsia sashes. The bridesmaids are required to wear shiny silver shoes, as well. After paying $250 for the fucking dress, Avery merely hopes to be able to dye it some less appalling shade and get some more use out of it later. My principal concern is getting into the room with the sewing machine to hem my dress up to tea length, since Lena, my parents' exchange student from last year, is visiting and has barricaded herself in there almost 100% of the time. It's getting a little old.


1. "I have to look GREAT," said Avery, who is basically possibly even hotter than Alyssa Milano and has looked that good since high school. "What should I wear?" J and I assured her the reason the Junior Junior League bitches hated her was basically that she always looked great, but we were enlisted to examine her wardrobe. J is planning how, on the riverboat brunch, to casually drop mention of A's achievements into conversation. "I haven't mastered that Southern polite conversational style," she said. I suggested she must start with "Alyssa Milano, bless her heart, when Avery was working with her for two years..."

(no subject)

Yesterday I cleaned some putrescent, shrivelled bits of vegetable matter off the kitchen counter where they lurked behind clean glass jars and empty cookie boxes. They were faintly yellow and seemed to have some kind of green crusting. Into the compost they went. I informed Mom of the state of her kitchen and she said: "Oh! I was saving those to plant!" Scattered over the back of the counter behind and among other crumbs, bits of ancient food, dishes, and trash. RIGHT. I seem to be completely and utterly exhausted after a long, long day with too much family togetherness, perhaps. I wanted to write today, but alas.