Archive for August, 2008

August 25th, 2008

We are such fancy people. I tried a “compromise” that my boyfriend insists was actually a “cunning trick” in which I positioned our rolling filing cabinet next to the couch as an impromptu end-table. He hated it passionately. “It doesn’t even match! it looks horrible!”

His inner designer couldn’t handle my spartan tactics.

August 25th, 2008

So I got the camera yesterday, and it wasn’t a scam! The camera looks like new, runs great, charges fine, and takes great pictures. I’m giving it a week before I leave positive feedback just to make sure there aren’t any weird issues, but so far, so great.

We walked to the Rodin Museum and I took this picture last night.

August 21st, 2008

At his grandfather’s birthday dinner last night, the boyfriend urged me to tell his mom about the end-table fiasco.

When I did, she promptly informed us that she’ll be down on Sunday to go to IKEA. In your face, boyfriend. In your face.

“But where do you put your drinks?”

“Exactly!”

August 20th, 2008

It probably doesn’t bode well for us that my method of injecting some sweet, sweet culture into our lives deals primarily with watching dooce’s doggy videos. Tonight, we’re sitting in our underwear in the living room (very cultured already, I know, but it’s August and we’re frugal with the AC), looking at crap online when I pull up heather’s latest entry.

He’s actually! Watching! And laughing! Blog culture is being achieved. And then a bug – a teeny, tiny little bug – appears on the wall near the boyfriend and he starts yelling about how it was one of those bugs and how it was coming for him. He’s been guilty of torture and war crimes against house centipedes, and his conscience is dirty. This manifests itself in generalized insanity and paranoia. keep reading »

August 20th, 2008

Mom: BTW, when you said this”now that I’ve figured out that the actual design of the form isn’t as important as the functionality of the form,” do you mean “form follows function”?
Me: i mean the actual web form that you fill out and submit. but my god, let it never be said that you aren’t witty.
Mom: It’s not original with me–that’s a famous quote.
Me: i know it isn’t origi– i know.