More on what the fuck...

And for Christmas I want a loaded Starbucks card. The latte habit is about to get out of control.

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What the fuck?

My contract at work has magically been extended. AGAIN. And this time--until June 2005. Go dig in the archives--find the old post about it. I've lost track of which extension this is. Four? Five? Who knows?!? Okay, I shouldn't whine. I have a job. I make some money. That's all most people want out of life--I know that! It's the emotional drama of this situation that is getting me. You're out, you're in, no wait... COULD SOMEBODY PLEASE FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

I'll let you in on a secret. I could just say no. I could, but I don't think I can. Everyone keeps saying, "Why don't you just quit?". If I quit I'd be an even bigger loser than I already am, wouldn't I? I don't know. I just don't fucking know. What I do know is that I wanted to spend my life practicing my art and well, that ain't fucking happening. I want to have time to design and well, that ain't fucking happening either. Why can't someone just tell me what to do? Please? This is my life and I haven't a clue what I'm doing with it. Fuck, I need a latte and more Advil.

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Mmmmm...Advil....

Yes, there are flavors I love, but nothing comes to mind as a defining moment in my culinary education. I remember the first time my sister and I had cappuccino--she loved it and I hated it. I've grown into a big coffee fan, but it took time and some measure of desperation in college. Caviar took time, asparagus took years and a certain passage in a Peter Mayle book--champagne? My parents let me have a small glass of champagne every Christmas and Easter since before I can remember. I've ALWAYS loved champagne. Maybe parents should not let their children taste exotic, expensive foodstuffs until their tastebuds have matured? The first time I ordered champagne in a bar/restaurant was with Amy S. while we were at NYU. We went to The Plaza and boldly ordered champagne and tiramisu--we were seriously underage and seriously poor and had a wonderful time. What if that had been my first taste of champagne? Would the taste of it be forever tied up with that feeling of "it's almost spring break, midterms are finally over and I've got this New York thing down!" ? (what a joke--I'm still working on that one ten years later) Conversely, maybe my parents had the right idea--I wasn't intimidated in the slightest by those stuffy waiters at The Plaza--I knew my champagnes! Hmm...I don't think that's what they wanted either.

Surely there's something out there? The closest I can remember is the first time I had a glass of Riesling. We'd been walking for hours in Paris and had collapsed at a cafe. The waiter said he knew just the wine for such an afternoon. It really was one of the rare times that something has tasted just perfect. Call me crazy, but I think it had more to do with Paris than the wine. I've had some wonderful Rieslings since then, but I think they could all be improved if I were sitting in the sun drinking in Paris. And really, what couldn't be improved by that measure?

So I've failed this particular sense memory exam, but it kept me occupied until the fourth Advil finally kicked in. Maybe I should watch my Zithromax/Advil/latte intake?

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Labor Day Goings On

And I was reminded once again: Do not leave your knitting unattended!

Hopefully, Eponine will let me have my knitting back tomorrow and I can seam it and crochet the edgings and straps. Just in time for summer to be over! Classic Jenny timing...

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