Word of the night:
Trepanation (although the American Heritage seems to prefer Trephination, I saw it the other way first).
Had a date with another chyk from the personals.
Nope. Nada. Nichts. Nothin'.
Nice girl and all, and she's actually a grown-up, but there was absolutely nothing there. And I did almost all the talking. Ugh.
If people ask me questions, I'm pretty much going to spew forth with words, which is what I did tonight. Except the people I actually deal with regularly feel free to interrupt, interject, and otherwise push the conversation into other directions (into, well, the direction of conversation instead of monologue). She did not do this. And I was left to be the only interesting party at the table.
Ehhh.
At least we went by DCCD. The loot:
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Buena Vista Social Club CD (used)
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Peter Gabriel CD (the third one, melty-face, used)
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Elliot Smith, Figure 8 (new)
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The Modernist, The Modernist Explosion USA (new, bought because the cover was constructivist)
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Meeting people is easy. A film by grant gee about radiohead DVD (new)
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King Crimson, deja VROOOM DVD (new)
Sigh. I'd like to meet a chyk from the personals I, uhh, actually have something in common with.
link
(2000-04-28)
Me and my big mouth (hands?).
Just last night I typed:
Sigh. I'd like to meet a chyk from the personals I, uhh, actually have something in common with.
So this afternoon I get not one, not two, but
three emails courtesy of
swoon.com (a Conde Nast joint). Two are from chyks who can't count and aren't really looking for somebody serious anyway, and the other is from one whose ad I responded to last week, didn't hear anything from, and after finding out the remailer wasn't working right, to whom I sent another email later in the week.
Items of note from the afternoon's email:
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The two chyks who can't count are below the age limit (again)
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One of them "mostly just dates women" (oi!) (Woo-hoo!) (I wish my friends said Woo-hoo and meant it).
-
The third one, who is indeed tall, er old, enough for this ride, had written me already, which I didn't get because the remailer was broken, and also didn't get the first message I sent her for the same reason
-
And worst of all (or best, but I'm thinking worst) my ad is the Hot Personal from the front page. Well.
[editor's note: the
Hot Personal is apparently only up for one day, and has already rotated away] The tag line was stolen from Was (Not Was), but nobody has picked up on that yet. I guess it's sort of flattering, but I don't know how the
Hot Personal is chosen, as it seems to be distinct from the "Editor's Picks." I suspected before that it was merely random, so I don't know if I can take it as a compliment or not. I didn't really sign up for being linked from the front page, but I guess you get what you pay for. Or what you ask for in your diaryland diary. Or something.
Anyway, I'm afraid that I'm guilty of having a Bad Head (see the woo-hoo link above if you haven't already) because I've already ruled out one girl (who seemed nice enough) because she didn't capitalize the beginnings of her sentences and she misspelled things. I came up with other reasons (it all really boiled down to the fact that she was still 22, in about as many ways as you can still be 22), but the noncapitalization thing is
so 1995. And spelling, well, spelling I can't excuse.
So I got the email from the third chyk listed above, and there shining out towards me in phosphors was "your" where she needed "you're." Twice. Now I can hear you already, saying, "Fedward, get the fuck over yourself. So what?" Well, it's hard. I can get over a lot about myself, but certain English usage pet peeves are never going to go away, and one of them is the your-you're thing. (I'll also pick your nits clean away if you misuse "comprise" when you mean "compose," or vice-versa).
So I'm writing her back, I mean duh (I'll probably also write the 23-yo LUG, since I'd be run out of the next Straight Men's Club meeting if I didn't), but the former English major in the back of my head is going, "NOOOOOOOO." Because I do indeed have a Bad Head.
I think I'll call it a night. When I wake up tomorrow maybe the Bed Head will have vanquished the Bad Head.
link
(2000-04-28)
