Thursday, September 30, 2004

Holy Shizer!

So you know that whole French CV creation escapade I went through last earlier this month. And that I heard nothing back from... Yeah that one. The one I had given up on and threw to the wind. Well that would be in the past.

I got a call this afternoon (that I let go to the Repondeur because there was no ID number and often when I get calls like that at almost 7pm it is freaking Canal Plus or someone else trying to sell me something). This is for a position with the French Foreign Minister. You know that guy you see on TV, at the UN, jetting all over the Middle East? Monsieur, Ministre Michel Barnier... yeah him the one I met back in March when he was an EU Commissioner. It is HIS office.

I am in TOTAL and COMPLETE UTTER freak out. The position would be helping the French government to prepare and run the campaign surrounding the ratification of the European Constitution. Oh.Mi.God!! I dont know if my French is up to this. So I have a meeting with Him who Stares and Scares tomorrow, I have a call to make to a man in the Foreign Ministry hoping that my French can pass the muster whilst under pressure and on a cell phone making it all the harder, and I have to try and figure out some of my life.

No Pressure or Anything! When it rains damn does it pour.

Monday, September 27, 2004


You see this?? This is what I look like when I am on speed. Yes I dance like a whack freak. Cant you tell? That is me swinging from the rafters or actually my "termite ridden" Poutres. I am ON TOP OF THE WORLD. I am so excited and I just cant hide it.... ok so I need to stop with the cheesy quotes, but seriously I am giddy- whaddya expect?

I just got my feedback from Him the Non-Communicative. I wasnt expecting it for another week or so but just as I was about to turn off my computer there popped up that email notification. And there went my stomach, I just ate a cookie and I seriously thought I might loose it. I was in KNOTS. He was as always non-communicative. I had completely dreaded opening this email, but I made myself do it immediately. One of those if you are going to take the scab off with the bandaid rip it quick and get it over with kind of deals.

I was SURE I was going to be trashed and cut to the ground. I had this complete feeling like my ass was grass and he was the mower. I expected scathing commentaries or at least cutting and red track comments all over the document. First of all they were blue and much further apart than I expected, and second of all they werent about criticising. No I got nice comments. "What you have here is in pretty good shape," just one more chapter to finish. Now I know that doesnt sound like much but from the economical and non-emotional Him the Non-Communicative that is LAVISH praise.

Most of his "corrections" were things like "this is not a sentence" or "clarify a bit further." There were a handful of you might want to include this or that citation/data, all relevant. Cause Him the Non-Communicative is Smart! Not things of the magnitude such as re-organize this, support your claims, include this, detail that, like I had expected. I expected too many constructive things... he wasnt going at my research like I expected at all. I think he might even like it, or at least agree with it. I am not allowed to read it more than once because I will start creating things between the lines and I am going to bask in this glory here and now!

Do you know how nice it is receive a surprise like this? I cant even begin to describe it. I can NOT control myself. I am singing I am dancing I am going to get a drink and I dont care if it is Midnight on a freaking Monday! This has completely made my week. Here I was thinking I was going to be the first one not to graduate. That I was just not going to make it. But really I think I might! And I might make it with smiles and recommendations. I might even think again of submitting this research like people who I had spoken about it with (but not let them read out of paranoia) suggested. You know in that whole trust the smart people who say things about you that maybe you dont see but that might be there, vein and all.

And can I say after trying to get a meeting with Him Who Stares and Scares set up (for this Friday, though his English keeps saying NEXT Friday- yeah use English it is so much easier to understand) and getting these comments from Him the Non-Communicative (also known as Him Who Is Responsible For Grading the Bloody Dissertation and Granting My Degree) I am just about ready to tell Him Who Stares and Scares to get a new calendar. I wont cause I want the letter of rec, but I am sooooo tempted to email the comments to him before Friday.

This was JUST the nice boot in the derriere that I needed to get my act together to get started with the last chapter. I have all I need to put it together (well all but one book but that is not a big deal) and I can get started right away. I think tomorrow is going to be a good day you know!

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Two Points:

Point One-
Metro Man to Save the Day......
I have to thoroughly check myself when I leave the flat. I make sure I have all my accoutrements. Money- Check, Camera- Check, Chapstick- Check, Keys- Check... Am I forgetting anything?? Nah...

So today I woke myself up and I went to have a lovely brunch/lunch with LOVELY ladies. It was a wonderful sunny, lazy type of morning and a brunch with people that were easy to be around. I could be me and they were just LOVELY. And I ate divine lemon meringue, mmmmmm.....

And then I went to the Metro. I have spent most of this summer walking. It's good for the ass and the pocketbook, so who am I to complain. But I forgot about the freaks. You would think that might mean that I didnt renew my freak magnet. I mean why would I need to renew it this year? You however would be wrong. Oh so VERY wrong.

So with a "wow I wish you were staying longer" feeling I sent my lovely ladies on their way to go deep under water. Then I jogged over and got on my Metro home. 15 seconds after getting in the car the radar goes off the deep end. The magnet polarization can NOT be denied, forces of attraction have all centered on me in my Metro car. There is this big man with dreds spiking out his head. Not in that cute Busta Rhymes kind of way, but in that "I have Martian Antennae coming out my head to talk with the Mothership" kind of way.

He starts by asking me if I would like to go get something to eat with him. I dont look at him- there are some crazies you know better than to look at; I just respond no- thank you. At this point that sinking feeling starts coming into my stomach... oh shit did I send my freak magnet renewal off in the mail and not know it?? Was that my credit card I remembered or was it...Well he then started yelling at me and talking with his other friends. Two of whom need dentures and they are not in the geriatric group either. He is yelling all sorts of things. And by yelling I mean SHOUTING at the top of his lungs. I have to respect that I guess. If you are going to make a scene well, this one knew how to do it right.

And to do it right you must decry the injustice of life and inhumanity I display towards it by not going to get something to eat with you. You must tell everyone how the pretty people shame you. How you are never good enough. How you like pate and fois gras too. And then you must lay into her Royal Bitchiness as he referred to me. Detailing people like me who think we are better than every day Martians. How I take issue with his ancestors being from the colonies (umm yes he said the colonies...). How I must be some uptight kind of bitch and only he could remove that kind of uptightness. How I am the kind of woman who likes to buy her bread only out of the oven.

The two other men who are crammed in by me give me looks of condolence. You know that kind of "I am sorry the crazies are picking on you" kind of look. I make the BIG mistake of responding- saying well what do you do with the crazies? You dont effin talk to them... and in case you forgot ALL people on the Metro are crazies. Damn when will I ever learn.

And yes the story gets even better. As our Martian Freak starts telling the whole Metro car that he is going to PSYCHOANALYZE me. Damn who knew you could get all that for the price of a Metro ticket. Shit if I only had known I wouldnt be paying my shrink I just would have bought a plane ticket to Paris and a Carte Orange. Probably would have saved me money too.

He starts hypothesizing and countering many things about me. I like to put my jam on the bread upside down. I do not like painting my toenails. At this point I am laughing out loud, staring out the window but laughing. I am NOT making a single word of this up. I mean seriously I couldnt make this shit up if I tried. This is one of those things in life I ask does this happen to anyone else? NO TINK JUST YOU. But little did I know my adventure with Martian Man for 8 Metro stops would be upped. Oh yes that "normal" looking guy who was all I am sorry they are bothering you... yeah HIM.

He follows me through my changes to my stop and gets out of the Metro with me. He first trys to small talk- oh I work just right by here, I hear a bit of an accent where are you from. Oh that's nice BYE. And then starts hassling me about do I want to get something to drink with him. I say no but thank you. Thinking shit did I upgrade my Freak Magnet when I renewed this year? Look Mademoiselle, I am not like those other guys... Sure you're not, all the same I have other things to do- no thank you. He goes off yelling at me how I am a Bitch.

Dude if that was all I had to make clear, I would have whipped out my Bitch Badge with pride and taken care of this at the beginning. Then again I wouldnt have a story to share either. But I still stand by my customer service assessment. They need to warn people that the freak magnet has SERIOUS kicking power. This is the shit that makes Italian men hump your leg, this is what makes German men try to follow you into the bathroom, and it is what makes that man from Mars think he is a Psychiatrist.

Second Point:
This Message Is Brought To You By The Letter OW-

I am feeling the pain today, really FEELING the pain. I dont know what I was thinking, thinking that I could jump into the energizer bunny life set. Well I know what I was thinking. And I should have known better. Every muscle in my whole fucking body is talking to me in ways, manners and on terms we have not discussed for years. On other days this might have made me happy, feeling can be a good thing, but like I said I should have known better.

Please pray that I can figure out how to make this pain go away (let the warm water in my shower work PLEASE and no Karaoke tonight) and get myself out of this mess. I have such an innate ability to get myself into a mess and well I need to learn how to get out I guess. Though I really think it might be better to just learn my freaking limitations and not get into the situation in the first place. But then the letter OW wouldnt be so bloody popular to shout in the flat today.

Monday, September 20, 2004

Fall Here We Come:

I woke up early this morning (7am) and it wasnt light out like it has been for the past couple months. I opened my window and there was a bite of chill in the air- crisp like the first bite into a granny smith apple. Ileaned out and watched the peaceful silence that was my rue. The rue and horizon was clear and green, but it felt like something internal had shifted. My internal clock's way saying to me that Summer was over. It was time for the flip flops and strappy dresses to go back into storage. Saying that while Fall might not be here, it is on the way.

Something about the changes in seasons makes me feel like I have a fresh start. I can start anew, I can change what I want, I can shed my skin and grow a new one. I dont really have a favorite season; probably a side effect of growing up in a location that really didnt have any seasons besides Summer. I respond differently to each season, loving them all equally and additionally disenchanted with portions of all seasons. But when one shifts I feel like it's my chance.

I am not exactly ready for the change in seasons; I am enjoying this bit of shoulder that I have here right now, sunny crisp and just right (23C/75F). But something about me is ITCHING for Fall. itching to shed my skin, become something new. Itching for the warm snuggly days with a sweater to keep the wind at bay. Looking forward to those days where I go down to the river and watch the leaves change through the glorious colors of Fall (I will miss my Seattle Japanese Maples in the vivid reds though). Where I can curl up with my knitting dreaming of the day when I will have a fireplace to do that in front of (even if it is an electric one!).

But more so I want to wear my boots again, my thigh high boots that were my favorite purchase last year. So much so that I want to get another pair! Not only because my feet look like shit and I cant get that needed pedicure, but also becuase cool boots will make you feel like you can handle anything. And if I cant handle it at least I can kick it hard :)

I think that reflects my mood today, in need of a stiff steel toed boot up the derriere to do the things have been putting off for way too long in my life; and at the same time a kick from my boot to those loose ends that I am tying up in life which are making me a bit antsy.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Well I Did It:

Good thing I have my friend Jeff who knows how to ride my ass like Zorro. He also knows how to entertain and support me (read talk me down off the ledge) so if I havent said it lately. I LOVE Jeff! (I love him even more now that I have IM proof Ithat I was RIGHT- BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

So what did I do? I drafted the hunk of junk (aka dissertation) up; putting all chapters together and the apendixes, inserted all tables and I hit send. Yes I did what I should have done a long time ago... now comes the waiting. And that is the horrible part, well the before horrible part, cause the comments have the potential to be the hideous part too... OH WHY OH WHY did I EVER think I should do this?

My stomach is in knots. Its irrelevant that my stomach felt like shit before I hit send. But right now I am refusing to put the good food I actually *LEFT* the apartment to get yesterday as my stomach and lower intestines have been making rumblings of a revolt or coup.

I am going to spend the rest of today hiding under my covers I think, revelling in my I sent shit feelings and trying to quell the uprising.

Thursday, September 16, 2004


My apartment is getting all sorts of new names. I first began referring to it as the Bat Cave. You know the dark place where I hide and work and have no clue that there is external life. It is a nice place (all 200 square feet/ 19 square meters of it), just missing the complimentary Batmobile- to oh I dont know... get the hell out of it on occassion.

Next name up on the list was the affectionate term of endearment: mon petit Hermit Shell. Now that the fun conference is over- I dont talk to people anymore. I know that teh vibrant part of me isnt lost, but we are not in daily contact either. And since I have recently realized HOW broke I am, I do not go out either. I am IN my shell and I am not coming out. Nope not even for food (its a diet too, whaddya know), and I really do need to get me to a grocery store.

And this morning we have progressed to become the Vortex of all Coherent and Intelligent Thought, yup- ALL. OF. IT that I ever could have pretended to possess. Think of it kind of like the black hole with the an exorcist wind spinning around me pulling my grey matter all out of my ears and such. Actually to be exact, pulling out what is left after that nice little demon took to scrubbing the insides of my cranial cavity with a freaking brillo scrubber- MUST. BE. CLEAN- of everything. What is my name again?

What I want to know is why does my apartment forsake me? I try to treat it well. I must learn to focus again! I must get me some patterns (for knitting too...) I must pull my life together. I Must hit send today to Him the Non-Communicative. I MUST, I MUST (increase my bust- or not... why did that come out?)

Therfore as a PSA to all- if you are looking for smart, sassy, witty, acerbic, or any other such thing- go on now and move along, it does not reside here.


This is great. I love my friends. They know when I am having a shitty day and they do things to try and perk me up (so that I will get my act together on that whole dissertation submission- why not wait till tomorrow...)

So without further ado (since I am not allowed to blog tomorrow/today- I GOTTA get that email out to Him the Non-Communicative!)

I give you the link that made me laugh my ass off.

I love you SF, I love you Craigslist, I love you, Love You, LOVE YOU Katie!

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Open Letter:
The below is an episode where Tink rears her Yankee Head at the Frogs.
It doesnt happen often people so "enjoy" it while you can.

Dear Noos.fr,

You know that whole deal where I signed up for your service and it seemed so simple, like such a good idea. Well it seems in the little fine French print you bought the rights to my soul, and I would like to call you Putain.fr for that. First you screw around with my monthly charges, and now you forsake me with this mornings adventure.

How hard is after I spend 10euros in phone calls (which by the way WHY should I have to pay extra to call you to get help) with you to try and set my computer to run on the access I should have had anyways, in which you become well acquainted of my UTTER INCOMPETENCE in computer French speak, to inform me that you will be bending me over a barrel the next morning? How hard is it to be tolerant and not rude? How hard is it to understand that I am not DEAF I no speakie puter talk in French thats all? For Putain.fr it is mammoth.

I dont have problems with my ass, living in France has brought me an intimate relationship with its wounds. But I would please like to request that if you are going to hit me up for 70euros of a pounding (for 15 minutes y'all!), for something that is your friggen fault, please use some lube. Tell me that you are going to do it. I can brace myself then, I can make a decision. I can get the vodka, needle, and neosporin out before you get here.

Until then I will be going to your "Boutique" and ripping them a new one. Cause if I have to sew my ass together again- so should you.

With my highest pleasure to inform you...
Aller et Te Faire Foutre,

Oh and one more for good measure....

Dear SFR,

Normally your tiny little boutique of 3 sq meters doesnt bother me. Normally your French ethics of customer service do not bother me. However you big cow- when you have EIGHT people crammed into the store all waiting in a pretty line, spending FOURTY FIVE minutes to help the dipshit lady decide which ring tone she wants on her phone is NOT the way to make Tink happy. Nor is it to tell her that you can take her kind of plastic cause it doesnt have that stupid chip in it, after the aforementioned fucking 45 minutes.

Please take a class on manners, multi-tasking and fucking get a clue when daggers fly your way.


(Please note in this instance I do take responsibility for staying the whole 45 minutes- I was stupid. I should have left earlier but once you realize you have been there that long you figure what is another 5 minutes. The lady couldnt have taken that long to choose a ring tone RIGHT? 25 minutes later... I want to shoot myself somedays, and cry too)

Monday, September 13, 2004

Whose Rights Trump Whose?

In my attempt to avoid working on my submission that should have been sent last week... What do I do? Do I work on the formatting (which is the "dumb shit?"), No. Do I work on trying to compile more of my data (which I really need to insert into chapter 2 and finish that part?), No. I do the serious graduate student thing- I watch the BBC.

So in my effort to obtain a degree of the highest honors in Procrastination- that’s right I am an overachiever, I watched the most astonishing editorial piece. I love the BBC, one because it really is good reporting, two who can beat an accent (have I mentioned how Scottish, English, Aussie and Kiwi accents make my knees go weak?) and since CNN loops the same shit almost all day on the international version the BBC tends to be my background noise. (Remember my irrational fear of silence...)

I had heard of doctors refusing to make referrals to clients who wanted an abortion, as they felt that made them compliant in my action- which is legal (What? What was that you said about God giving man the ability to make individual decisions?). And while I do find that medically irresponsible, that is something easily remedied. I go find me a decent doctor who knows the difference and line between religion and medicine and public and private.

However, it seems in the US Midwest (surprise, surprise) there are pharmacist/pharmacist assistants who are refusing to fill women's medically valid and legal prescriptions for birth control. And the incidence of this is increasing. Women are going to the pharmacy only to have the pharmacist/assistant indicate that they find birth control to be a form of abortion, and because they do not support abortion or birth control their conscious will not permit them to fill the prescription.

My jaw hit the floor, and really I thought most things in the Midwest lost that potential a long time ago. I don’t know if it’s from having been in Europe for a year and half out of the last two years and my new conception of pharmacist (Hi I haven’t been to a doctor but there is gunk in my eye can you give me antibiotics? Thanks! *walks out door with antibiotic eyedrops*). But whatever the reason, I found this appalling. I don’t go to a pharmacy to have the pharmacist judge me or pass judgment. Prescriptions are between me and my doctor (or pharmacist here in Europe- but then again TONS of prescription items in the US are "over the counter" here including birth control- even in the "Catholic" countries).

It makes me want to scream- who do you think you are to pass judgment on me, to deny me my rights? Especially if you are saying it for religious reasons, because it’s not you that should pass judgment on what I do but God and that happens when we met (if I believed in God) not while I am at the pharmacy.

What if like me in my late teens you were put on birth control, not for pregnancy prevention, but to raise my body fat levels so that I wouldn’t have severe bone density issues later in life (ripped little gymnast body had less body fat than most athletic men- therefore I had amenorrhea anyways- is that a form of birth control I should continue- is that a form of abortion...)? There are actually quite a few women on birth control for reasons besides reproductive control. I know many who went on birth control just to get some control over their period. One friend had literally her period for all but 3 days a month for over a year, it was a medical issue.

Am I then ok to pass your judgment. But wait- what the fuck are you doing passing judgment on my medical situation in the first place and secondly doing so without the complete medical situation. You are a pharmacist- your job is to regulate my drug distribution according to the judgment of myself and my doctor- in accordance with the law and regulations established by the government. You want to control my prescription go back to medical school and get your MD. Until then, know what your job is- to give me my valid and legal prescriptions.

I am sorry- if you have a problem with dispensing medication based on ethical or religious reasons, then you need to get a different job. If you don’t want to do that then you have the option of finding someone else service the customer. Until it is illegal you do not have the right to deny anyone their legal and prescribed medication regardless of your personal beliefs. To deny me my medical prescription as a pharmacist is irresponsible and unethical, not to mention selfish.

This trend in the US where you believe that you can invoke religion (or "security," or some other bullshit) to revoke my rights is really climbing up in my ass. Especially when it is done by claiming individual rights- Pot calling kettle, come in kettle come in... I am sorry you do not get to decide whose rights trump whose- for now the government does on earth and if you believe in the afterlife God does so then. Until you become God or the government, take your nose and shove it up your own ass. There is probably more hypocrisy there than you would think.

GRRRRR….This, THIS is exactly why religion has no place in the government, this is why there are checks and balances, this is what freedom is about. Freedom of speech is ensuring that someone can say things which I might find abhorrent. Freedom is fundamentally about the right to question the government and its actions- holding it accountable. Freedom is about respecting the rights of others when they do not match your own.

People really need to start understanding the division between public and private and respect it, otherwise our "freedom" is absolutely worthless.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Sweet Dreams:

There are parts of life which just seem like a dream the next day, when it has "ended." In this case for me it was an exciting dream? It was a positive one. One of the kinds which reinstalls some of your confidence in parts of you and your life. Things regenerate, you move past internal milestones which previously you had hid from, ones you had constructed to separate you from "life."

Fear of life and its entanglements evaporates along with the irrationally high standards you held above your head. You are you, the way you remember yourself having been; the way you love and missed and attracted people to you like a beacon, but a part that thought you lost, or wasnt real. However, it is not lost and you have reconnected with it for one single second. That second is sublime, and all I want to do is tap into it again. But dreams happen at a moment in time.

When you wake up it seems surreal, like something you didn’t experience, but something that has immense gratification for your soul, and that you are at peace with. But you did experience life and you are still smiling from that dream. It is a dream that you want to return to, relive and to do not different but better, again and again. Just to savor every second that you may not have while caught up in the midst of "life." And even if you cant get it back in those few seconds of light sleep, it still has a delicious taste nonetheless.

Regardless of the frustrations in my life, and they are there; I have to admit that things are going in the right direction for me. One bit of life came together for me during one blessed moment, and I took that moment and lived it for every drop of life it was worth. I soaked all the experience in and smiled. And even though I still feel like it was a dream, it is a dream I am genuinely appreciative for.

So today I am walking a bit on air, through the sunny Parisian streets with a broad smile on my face that not even the draguers could wipe off.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

I Am Such A Geek:

You know it is kind of sad that a simple political comment can make me shoot water out my nose (at my computer). But it can, especially as I am researching.

I was reading a book taking notes this morning and I came across the following 1977 quote. "We are the Party of the Family." What makes that utterly hysterical is that it was uttered by a certain Baroness Margaret Thatcher. Yes, this is from the same woman of ill-repute who told us all that there was "no such thing as society." What is family if it is not an embedded part of society?

Ok, I am not just a Political Science geek, I am an easily entertained one... I need to go find me a self-help group.

Monday, September 06, 2004

The Ride Down:

Well today is a bit of the slow down, and even though I should have known it was coming, I just wasn’t prepared for it. I mean yes it was tiring, both mentally (I can only change languages so much time before my brain becomes COMPLETE mush), physically (hey being Microphone Girl might sound easy- but it ain't! My knees are not happy with me), and emotionally.

I am not sure how I feel about things; everything is a bit odd for me. The only way I can think of to describe it is that I feel mentally unsettled. In general this conference was wonderful. I think the conferences have been placed just so to be put just so. To well push me along, support me, and confirm what I want to believe.

But today is the down fall. When you spend time- not matter whether or not it is stressing and tiring, with a really good group of people being social (cause I sooo have not been social). Yes I got some information that shifted a few things for me on a personal level, but nothing that affects a "reality" in my life, just my dreams. Even more so I potentially have one of the best up and outs that moves me forward on contingent offer. What the hell more could I possibly want? I don’t know- I can’t identify anything on this "feeling."

I am back to the hermit cave and the lack of interaction, so you can guess I am a bit bummed. The conference for whatever drains it may have posed or the whole we are always together dynamic, was perfect. We may have been together from 8am to 12pm or later... but it was wonderful. Being happy gregarious personable girl, and then switching to hermit without friends, community or social life (yes, yes exaggeration I know), is not a way to make me feel like I am at the top of the ride. I simply don’t think I know how to recreate what these past three days provided me for myself independent of it being created for me by others. I want to catch it like a lightning bug in a jar and keep it (with hole poked in the tin foil so I don’t kill it!)

Structure and a situation where I know what is required of me I know what to do and I know how to do it, a situation where I don’t get to be my vibrant self in the presence of others, where I feel like I am competent (even if it is something stupid like being a good microphone girl) and it is confirmed to me by others- How do I create that around me? How do I make those kinds of interpersonal connections to do that on any kind of a consistent basis?

I felt BUZZED off of not only the academic vibe of the conference, the kindness and fabulous nature of the people there (many of whom are the HEAVY hitters). For three days I had a life, I could pretend like I knew shit, I had people really like me and I got to step out of my shell a bit. More importantly I did step out of it, and I just was whatever is me- without hiding controlling or censoring. I felt HOPE and I felt competent, like I had a contribution to make.

That feeling of competence and value was invaluable. I felt like the "old me." I was a smart ass and people laughed (except for Him Who Stares and Scares- we have already established that he doesn’t get funny). I exuded energy and everyone noticed it, they seemed to want to be around it, reciprocating with being friendly and making sure to get to know me and include me into their grouping. OH DEAR GOD I was part of a group, I belonged somewhere! As much as I like being an individual know that I belong to something is important for me. I was sharp, and for three days had a direction in my life.

I was BUZZED off of life, I was in Paris, I was competent, I was feeling pretty and flirting, I was switching languages and impressing people, I had people telling me I HAD to contact them. I was feeling high as a kite (without inhaling), I felt like hey- these people like me and I am being ME! That really does happen? Seriously I can be me (whatever that is cause I am still not sure anymore) and lots of people will seemingly like ME???

And for a few seconds here and there (like right after a PhD program offer to "pull" my application from a director of graduate students...) I felt like I could do this. And that was a high of the highest highs, it was a cup of the ambrosia of gods, and it was divine. Right now I wish it hadn’t ended. I want to cry (even though I am tired, hey maybe its cause I am tired...) because its over, actually I am tearing up. I want to go to the next conference they are going to next week. I even would be willing to pay through the nose for going to Oxford to be in a similar environment like this weekend has been.

I know you cant recreate everything but this is a great grouping of people and I don’t want it to end. Tough titty I know as it already has- and it cant be recreated as it is a moment in time- one I will always value but nothing can recreate it. I can only take it and start incorporating it into my research and move the train forward, I know- but this is my nostalgia we are talking about here.

I just want to go back (which yes I know I cant and even if I could it wouldn’t be the same anyways). I want to be the girl who danced till almost 3 am like no one was watching (even though I caught Him Who Stares and Scares and Cute Aussie watching), and had other people saying that they wanted to be around me. That they liked me just the way I am.

Shit I hate that Bridget Jones DVD!

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Oh Today Is Great!

I love it when things startle you and the first thing that comes to mind is the most insane. So I got home at 3 AM, but I agreed to go running with Goddess with a potential job, so I am still functioning on low level sleep. What can I say I am a good chunk Spaniards- when I decide to party- I start the party and I shut the sucker down too.

I get up I manage to run with her at her pace which was a good pace for the whole time which was a good deal for my knee. I ignore a few sharp pains here and there, and the little running stabbing man as we go for our third lap of the Gardens.

She tells me again to email her if I am interested. Look lady I like you, I like the idea of working with you as you are a big wig and it would be paid. Trust me if I am willing to go to Scandinavia in the middle of winter- I really want to work with you. The email will be in your box when you get to the office on Monday morning.

So after I get back from running I am sitting down, writing a few of my personal feelings and oddities cause I have lots of them. And they are wreaking with me a bit as the high of the conference is of course inevitably taming down a bit. I dont have that big social life, and I am no longer Microphone girl.

And then I have to laugh. As I am sitting down typing... the poster on my wall falls. It comes off the wall downward towards my direction. So what does my ever so creative and inventive mind in a sleep deprived state think is happening. Well it goes into startle mode saying "OH SHIT THE WALL IS FALLING DOWN."

Yes all I am paranoid, I am ridiculous, and I am laughing at myself. Day cant get worse and I am going to take a Nap! I deserve that too.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Mornings Are Painful When You Only Have 4 Hours Of Sleep- So Are Days:

I woke up and headed over to the university for the morning stuff. I really cant say more as I am not there. I am tired; I am exhausted linguistically and mentally, not to mention that it is 8 am on a fucking Saturday. I see Him Who Stares and Scares. I am not as Ice Princess as yesterday. I don’t know if I thawed or I was too tired to be bothered. I didn’t avoid him but I wasn’t overly friendly. But he was trying. Maybe he does "like" me, but since I am not in the tiny inside circle of his (of those people he seems to have manners with) or he doesn’t know what to do with me he was trying to make amends.

Anyways I get a wireless mic today to be Microphone girl with. Thank god! I will make it through this conference with out tripping myself and making an ass of myself. OH THANK GOD! Only Marcelle leaves the mic on so I am talking to one of the Swedes from last night about last night expressing amazement that he made it, and well people can hear. Him Who Stares and Scares comes over and says "The Mic is on; turn it off so when he says something nice to you, everyone doesn’t know." Great. At least it is better phrased than normal, though he gives a weird wink. Stop thinking like that you dirty little quirky French perv!

I go through the morning, I thaw as I go. Mostly I think because so many good things have happened because of him getting me into this conference so in all honesty... I don’t think that I can remain THAT pissed. Its not me and its not healthy. But he is still on the shit list. Just not the Ace of Spades anymore.

During lunch I walk and talk with another grad student and then afterwards and I get cornered by the Norwegian asking me now how is it you know how to speak Norwegian and about römmegrot and fisekeboller? So I have to explain one of my stories that is on repeat (What program are you in? What is your research on? How do you know about Scandinavia? Are just a few of them) and he thinks it’s great. One more person at Oxford who smiles at me all the time. I am liking this.

So I manage to stumble my way through most of the day. Him Who Stares and Scares only shouts at me once. Thanks Him Who Stares and Scares! I have some good discussions with people. They are all offering to do things to help me. I am amazed that they would want me and at their generosity. I honestly don’t know what to do with it. Do I deserve this? I then do some nice things (hey you are interested in this? this person did this, which is different but you might be able to use his model to get that result and see... vague but the details would bore you unless you want to talk about taxation modeling).

I decided life must have been throwing me a burst of fate so I was going to ride it. GODDESS who said last night she wanted to hire me for helping with a certain part of the research, well the week before I got an email about grants to go to the locations of that database (one is in DUBLIN- hell yeah) and so I printed it out for her saying look even if you don’t get the money this could be an option for your project.

She again reiterates that she wants me to contact her because if I am really interested she wants me to work with her. UMMM YEAH I am interested. I am so interested I would consider moving back to SCANDINAVIA, in the freaking winter. Have I told you how me and Scandinavian winters get along- the Norwegian phrase for it is Ikke So Migge, not so much!

At the end of the day Him Who Stares and Scares thanks all of his team- and of course introduces me as the Microphone Girl. What do you do with him? So I go out at the end of the day with one of the other presenters who wont be going to dinner, we talk a bit about graduate school and she tells me to keep in touch with her.

These conferences really are lined up just at the time you need them with the kind of people you need to get the support you need. I don’t think it could have been at a more perfect time for me. I just wish the next conference wasn’t a year away the next one cause I would love to present my research here, after getting out of the hospital for having a heart attack.

Then we all head out to dinner/party. Dinner was a bit on the small side. I start to crash hard. I sit next to a really nice French guy who I am going to keep in touch with he works for French institutions here and he is a local connect. Gotta figure out how to stay here if other things don’t work out- and make friends if nothing else.

Plus he knows Him Who Stares and Scares pretty well as they took classes together. He confirms some of my things saying that is not a me thing that is a him thing. I say a few things I probably shouldn’t but my French is so shitty at this point as I am technically brain dead, and he doesn’t always understand my English so I think I am ok. If it gets back I know where it came from.

So I am eating dinner talking with Mr. Big Wig Two who really likes me and keeps putting his arm around me. He is funny he is sweet, he is great. Him Who Stares and Scares says there is music and champagne downstairs. He tries to get people to go down. I think he wants to leave me out of it, but Big Wig Two puts his arm around and says come with me and get some champagne. So I listen to those two talk, I get us champagne and I go to wander.

Him Who Stares and Scares I think is trying to stay away from me because it turns out he has a "girlfriend" (who was at the conference and is in quotes as a result of part of the gossip- not going there as it is a bit weird for me now) and I don’t think she is happy. He is trying to be with her some, trying to "love" on her so she will stop frumping so much, to convince her of things. It freaks me out as it reminds me of the ending I had with NASTY ex. I don’t know if I think they are a good match and you can guess I have other thoughts about Him Who Stares and Scares.

But he is drinking a lot and well we all start dancing. I go dance with Big Wig Two who is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. He is my favorite kind of male dancer. Music is in my blood I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t like music to dance too. But I don’t think you have to have rhythm or be good. And the people who say I am going to have fun even if I make an ass out of myself are GOLD. Big Wig Two is PLATINUM! It was great. He is a hideous dancer but he puts himself out there and flails like not other and I am soooooo enamored with that I was all about dancing with him for that song. ALL ABOUT IT.

And before Goddess with a Job leaves she asks me about running in the Luxembourg Gardens. I said yes you can do that I live right by there and this is my running path. She asks me if I want to go running at 8 am. UMMMM Yeah (like I needed to think about that and trying to strengthen the bond)!!!!!! Oh fuck another early morning after another late night, and running. I haven’t run in eons... God my body is going to LOVE me for this.

Now I proceed alternating trips outside for air and dancing with everyone but Him Who Stares and Scares- which is kind of sad because he actually can dance really good (I would have NEVER guessed it). He is trying to avoid me I thinh, he seems scared everytime he dances near me. I stopped paying attention after a while, he is too high-maintenance. I want my Calvados and I want to have fun, leave the rest of it out of it.

I had a great time. I let my hair down I danced like no one was watch when they play salsa and make you wish you could dance with me. Cause everyone else wanted to dance with me. I saw him at least twice looking over at me like he wanted to and then when he saw that I saw him, grabbing some other girl to dance with. If I didn’t know better I would say he was in high-school not his mid thirties.

At the end of the night I really am thinking how many times do you get to see your advisor DRUNK? I mean REALLY DRUNK too. I mean seriously trashed and drinking it down I would be he had at least a bottle of wine with dinner, a bottle of champagne downstairs, and then started in on some Calvados. He was DRINKING.

He spends most of the night alternating between watching me and trying to avoid me. He really is an odd duck. Not a bad one but an odd one. And at the end of the night I am like ok fuck off Him Who Stares and Scares. Besides which I then find out some info and gossip and it makes me feel all funny- for reasons I can’t describe or identify.

Forget his games, I am going to flirt with and dance provocatively by myself and with the REALLY HOT Aussie who was flirting back. I got to slow dance with him- we were transported back to middle school with a really bad Guns and Roses knock off song. Even Axel would have hurt over this song.

Then I get the real shock of my conference life, Him Who Stares and Scares comes to say good by to me and after saying I will read your submission soon (the one from 3 weeks ago... uh huh) I tell him to expect more writing soon. But here is where I just about flip the fuck out. He makes a serious point of cornering me and gives me the BISES. Holy shit? He has NEVER done that. WOW, I am shocked I don’t know what to make of it, especially as the "girlfriend" is there and I am creeped. He has totally gotten his revenge and totally fucked with me on that one. I don’t know what to do with him at all.

My life is so bizarre some times I couldn’t make it up if I tried.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Go To Bed Pissed, Wake Up Pissier:

I did not sleep well. I honestly try not to go to bed mad because it doesn’t dissipate; I wake up with my anger and thoughts (like all those thing I REALLY would want to tell him off with) on constant loop that runs through my brain. Which means I am just as if not or more fury red livid than last night. My wrath is still there festering in the morning; this is not how I should be starting my day off.

I get up and over to the conference I get up to my spot in the front I am talking with the girl next to me. I have decided to make it EXPLICITLY clear that I am DONE with his scrawny French cul. I had smiled at him yesterday, like I had smiled at other people too- my happy scrunchy face smile. It melts people. I had been friendly, because he had done a nice thing letting me access this conference, I was happy and I am friendly like that.

Not to him, not this morning. I wasn’t going to talk with him if I could at all avoid it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to smile at him and I was going to make it facially clear. Oh yes even Captain Oblivious would get that I was NOT happy with him. Rude boy meet Rude girl oops make that RUDE FEMINIST BITCH.

So Him Who Stares and Scares comes in and I am taking a sip of my water. He starts talking to me in French general good morning, how are you etc greetings. Normally starting in French would get him brownie points. This morning my response was a head nod with a look away. He manages to catch my glance again by accident a few minutes later. Cava?? Bitchiest Oui I have mustered in a long time exits my lips. He seems really confused; he doesn’t know what is up with this. I can see on the teleprompter over his head he is asking: is she really mad, or is it something else? Yeah dumb fuck go figure it out. Every time for the rest of the day if I catch him looking at me while I am smiling, I turn that frown right upside down. You get what you ask for, and boy did he ask for it.

He spent the rest of the morning really tip-toeing around me! I think at one point he got the "oh she is PISSED with me," message. At lunch I met with another big wig who really seemed interested in me and since she researches EXACTLY what I do (i.e. she is cited like all hell). I take her comments on board and am grateful for her friendliness and kind words. I run around, I help more people because they seem to think I know everything (I should win an Oscar for my acting abilities).

Now I am still “Microphone Girl” which means I have to try and remember all the rapid fire things that run through my mind as people are asking or answering questions- because some of these actually relate to my research. At one point I was close to my paper again (and actually I was ok) so I went to write one non-essential note. All of a sudden Him Who Stares and Scares turns around and says "You sit down- Marie (in French- listen you twat choose a language and stick with it) this is related to her research you please run the microphone." Nice intention, but again this whole commanding tone, it never goes over well with me. I am the Alpha Bitch I do not take orders.

I finish, I make some comments to one of the authors from lunch who in turn asks me to send her an email cause I am articulate about what I am bringing up and she wants to incorporate it but is afraid she is going to miss it as she is tired. Even better if I do that she will comment on my research for me. Oh boy!

I catch Him Who Stares and Scares looking at me afterwards like he was concerned. Because yes I am still pissed at you, go sit and spin on it. I went and sat with the Spaniards at a café and completely mindfucked myself for the rest of the night. Hi I am a Polyglot and I don’t speak any language anymore. Anyways after a drink- which always helps the mindfuck and language abilities, we head to the dinner. I intentionally avoid Him Who Stares and Scares and when I cant I politely ignore him while we are out on the patio. I talk with Marcelle, the most AWESOME lady who just CRACKS my shit up with her stories.

I meet a grad student at a program I am interested in applying to in the states. She takes me over to her advisor who I barely know but is the TOP person in the field tells her I am interested in going to their university. OH... she says. But we have just been called in so we go into dinner and I end up sitting next to her. I have this oh-mi-god; I am sitting next to Ms. Queen of all I do... inhale I remind myself again.

It was great. I was at a table with two of the main four people who are my GODDESSES on my research. And they are suggesting maybe I should think about this or that. They are interested in what I am saying. They are amazing. But they do make one suggestion that kind of spins me a bit. They suggest maybe I should consider shifting disciplines from Poli-Sci to Soc. Um oh shit, that really flips my world upside down. I see these two who are extremely political science smart, so it could be ok, but I have always been Poli-Sci girl... I don’t know much about Soc. This research I want to continue on with is also split and close to both I think but whoa new thought is overwhelming me. I listen and they give me some good advice and are kind and I take it in.

Then one of the authors of a research project I cite like crazy starts hitting me up and making a pitch for his program. Being that he is the Director of Graduate Students and his wife is going to be the Chair of the Department beginning next year… I listen, I talk a lot (but his wife is like me so he can handle that) but I really try to listen A LOT. He then makes the offer that if I want to apply I am to let him know. He says he wants me to apply, he wants me to go there- he likes my energy, he likes that I grilled him, he likes my smart ass sense of humor and he thinks that I would be a good fit and they would like to have me working on their project (all of this cause I gave them data on what they wanted… being nice it does get you lots of places).

Whoa Nelly, you met me today effectively and you got all this and are willing to do all that. HOLY SHIT. So he tells when I apply he will walk my application through the steps. Um Rodger I have a PhD program back up... The whole shifting Disciplines still kind of freaks me out but I have something kinda guaranteed... WOW

It’s getting close to time to leave, and Him Who Stares and Scares comes over and talks to me in French. I think he has figured out that if he talks to me in French I am less bitchy, and is very gentle and nice. Tip-toe around the PMS-y woman I bet he is thinking.

We head out and I go to help one of the women who gets lost all the time. Interestingly enough she is working with one of the 3 main people that are my GODDESSES, and they are walking together so she knows how to get there. I say I am walking the same way they say join us. Now Goddess is a bit tipsy but I am not saying anything I walking and Goddess asks me about my research.

I tell her, she asks about what data I am trying to use. I tell her. She says she needs someone that is an expert in that. I try to tell her I am not an expert in it, I am using sanitized data, I do not know how to use the raw data. She says if she had money she would hire me immediately as I am efficient. (Um how do these people know this about me when I all I do is point to things and walk around with a microphone?) She says she is waiting to hear on a grant and if she gets it she wants to talk with me about coming to work for her.

At this point I am getting woozy with all this. HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT. Then we run into a group of about another ten people from the conference. It isn’t hard they are all staying in the same location and all are wandering around lost. I am it seems the tour guide. So my favorite Swede is in the group and him and one of my favorite Finns say they want to go out. Now I should have known better to say yes when the Swedes and the Finns say take me to a bar. I have lived in Scandinavia, I should have known better! But I took them (all 14 people) anyways.

At the bar my favorite Swede starts pushing a bit on what is it I am doing, where do I want to apply. He is not only political royalty in Sweden, but also the director of a PhD program/institute in Sweden and he tells me things like… well you would need to do this for our program. HOLY FUCK third person that is hitting on me TONIGHT, academically that is. Then he drinks a bunch and I get to gather all sorts of good and funny stories.

And when I get home I finally see the time... It is 3 fucking AM. Oh yes tomorrow is going to be a good day.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Up And At Em:

Nervous or not here I come and at the conference just when Him Who Stares and Scares asked me to be. As you might guess, well before he made his appearance. So I got there met the other people and started to take control. If you aren’t there to tell me what to do I will decide for myself. I am part terrier. So I registered people, I directed them around and I acted impeccably. So good people really thought I not only knew things but that I really was a part of the organization team. No I was the person that showed up that was it.

Anyways Him Who Stares and Scares is in the building, let the hemorrhaging commence. I only spoke to him in English while talking to other people in French in front of him. He was not sure what to do nor what language to talk in. I am taking pleasure out of shaking him a bit. I figure if he is going to be an ass, then I might as well fuck with his mind. He did decide to speak to me and the other girl I was with in French though- ahhhh you do recognize I can comprehend French- even with your lisp...

Jon comes to register. Jon is the friendliest Dane you could imagine, and he is entertaining as all hell! You should see him present about family and child policies with his stick people and the Bus. Ok you had to be there and be a geek like me to probably laugh as much as I did. At this stage he is the only registrant I know. So I was looking forward to seeing a friendly face.

Jon sees me across the reception area of the conference and beelines over bises with Him Who Stares and Scares that was at the table being all Mr. Commander and all and immediately after that turns around (with Him Who Stares and Scares wondering what is he doing) says HEI, HEI!! tossing himself halfway across the table to bise with me (much to the surprise of Him Who Stares and Scares cause I am not supposed to bise you know) After that Him Who Stares and Scares runs off. Whatev DUDE, I give! There is no way to figure out quirky Frenchmen.

Anyways I went upstairs to the auditorium, and smiled. I don’t know any of you except for a few names cause I got your registration information or have cited your articles... Mingle, mingle I am not an intruder... Hey here comes some tall blonde guy walking in a beeline over to me and says "Hey I know you!" Now I barely met him, hell I barely remembered him. But if you think you know me- sure you do, I need friends.

I must have made some kind of impression and Joakim remembered me, and wanted to say something to me. Yes I love me my Swedes, even better I love my political royalty Swedes :) It was great and I don’t feel as alone anymore, I am an honorary member of the Scandinavian Mafia. But since I didn’t know others I decided to go sit in the front of the room by the other "dream team members." (That is what Him Who Stares and Scares named us- in his great appropriation of English, come on how can you not laugh?)

So people are presenting the critical analyses of the research, I am taking notes and they are about to open the phone to questions. And you can maybe see where I am going to go with this... next thing I know Him who Stares and Scares turns around and says to me "You go be Microphone girl." Nope not making that up, entertaining ain't he??

I don’t know why I put up with his superiority demanding attitude without any manners, but we are going to leave that to the side. The best part of this is that my adviser is in a room that has 4 of the top feminist scholars in the field, and knows that I am researching issues that are feminine focused. I am not much younger than him... You would think he would know better than to call me "Microphone GIRL."

We went back up after lunch and I am Microphone girl, YIPPEE. After the session which is getting a bit draining because in addition to trying to pay attention in terms of the whole academic sense as microphone girl my duties mean I have to take a microphone to where ever the person with a question is. This is a corded one so I am constrained by the fear which says- DO NOT TRIP AND FALL FLAT ON YOUR FAC E IN FRONT OF THESE IMPORTANT PEOPLE! That is not the way to make a memorable impression- well at least not the one I had in mind. But the other half is that once I get to you if there is no empty seat by you I have to squat. You can guess how much my fucked up knees love me for it...

Afterwards we are meeting to take a Batobus- (boat bus) to tonight’s social event. The Mairie de Paris- otherwise known as Hôtel de Ville. We go through the building- which does not provide public access (I am pissed as my camera is acting up. Bugger!). And after a very long speech it is Champagne time! Free high quality liquor is great.

I mingle trying to talk to new people and be all personable. After a bit of wandering and avoidance moves and a bit of being ignored and toasted and complimented by Him Who Stares and Scares (cause he is bipolar like that it seems) I get pushed back towards my Scando’s, and introduced to the new ones.
It is getting time to head out- after 4 flutes of champagne of course. And as we are leaving I remember I should extend Hello’s from a mutual friend I was emailing with. He looks all surprised and asks me "you know him?" Ummmm yes I met him through YOU. Really there isn’t enough blood for both of men’s heads (regardless of size) is there? I say yes I kept in touch after then by email. I was recently emailing with him about visiting him in Stockholm in October and he told me to say hi for him. Him Who Stares and Scares was completely weirded out by this exchange and awkwardly shutters off.

After looking out at the rain and crying cause I am not up for it. I was invited we get out of the building wait a bit to let some of the rain let up and my aortic artery was then burst by Him Who Stares and Scares. We get to the Metro area- he looks at me and says "We are going out for a drink- see you tomorrow." And then waves at me. Toodles. I am shocked, my Favorite Swede looks at me like I am so SORRY... and at the same time thinking in my head- Oh NO He Diuhn’t (with my best white girl finger shake). I turn down to the Metro before the fury shows up in my red face and diabolical horns.

Ok if we have not addressed this topic before Him who Stares and Scares has ZERO interpersonal skills. Zilch, zip, rien, niente, nada! Now I don’t think he is intentionally rude. I don’t even think that he realizes that he is being a rude ass. Some things just seem to not be on his radar, and it seems quite often that I in general am not unless my tata’s are on display. I am not sure how he would respond if he was called on it, but I was shocked and LIVID.

By the time I got home I was even angrier, if that is possible, and I stewed. I was LIVID. Can I please make those letters bigger? Cause it doesn’t even begin to express my wrath. You know buddy- my ass does not have room for both of your fists up it with twisting pinecones. I don’t care about his blunt nature I actually appreciate it (and maybe that is why I often let things go, that or I need him to make comments so I cant afford to tell him to fuck off yet), but Christ on a Stick! You do NOT have to be rude when being blunt, and yes there is a difference between the two. But no Him Who Stares and Scares couldn’t do THAT now could he?? Would mean I wouldn’t have these stories to write.

So I go to bed irate, furious, fuming, enraged and incensed. I decided that if he wants to pull this shit, I am fed up and I want nothing to do with it anymore. You made it PERFECTLY clear. I may be oblivious to most things, and for long periods of time. but I completely get it now. Loud and Clear Roger. Perfunctory me is what you get from here on in then. I am so done. Over and OUT.

And then my evening got grumpier as at 3:49 am I wake up with my first Charlie Horse EVER. I know I am odd. HOLY SHIT, that woke me right then and there. I unpoint my toes, I try flexing my heel, and I try rubbing the calf a bit. It is all sending blinding splitting pains into my leg and my still half asleep consciousness, which is increasingly becoming more awake. Neurons are most certainly connected. I am desperate to make it stop so I try banging on my calf cause FUCK it hurts. And finally a few minutes later it stops but now I am kind of awake, vision changing pains tend to do that so I look at CNN. I should have known better.

I am Murphy’s best bitch because it was JUST as Bush was starting his acceptance speech for the RNC. I don’t want to see this. I am now going to be gnashing my teeth for the rest of the night. And I am serious that there is not enough room for me to much angrier and control my homicidal tendencies. I some how get to bed at about 4:55 am thank god. It has to get better please, let it get better.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004


Ok so I woke up this morning to check my email and see the new Gap ad in my inbox. Ok whatever that didnt make me go Hmmmmm. I even clicked cause I am a dork and wanted to see the new spokesperson- Sarah Jessica Parker. Now this is where it got weird. There was this mix and match feature on how Sarah Jessica Parker liked to sport the Gap gear.

So you ask what is so weird about that? You used to be in marketing why would you find this odd. Well here is why: she does it mostly in Gap clothes but then does this crazy thing. She accessorizes. Ok so I am accessory impaired, but why would that be a big deal? Cause she is doing it with freaking FRED LEIGHTON jewlery or MANOLO BLAHNICK shoes!

I know I am going out on a limb here, but my guess is that most of the customers of the Gap dont have the fiscal capacity to afford those kinds of accessories. I dream of the day I have enough money to bitchslap my financially responsible and practical self into a coma and buy myself a pair- regardless of the fact that they cost me more than my rent for a month. Really I do. But I buy Gap Jeans etc cause (especially in the states) it is relatively cheap. It is NOT in the same league as Fred Leighton or Manolo Blahnick. And for right now I am ok with that. And I know that rich people might like the offerings at the Gap too. And that is all good, cause I am sure no matter how rich I get I will probably be a bit of a penny pincher. But seriously Gap ought to cater to their real clientel and not get pretentious ideas. Leave that to the rich version of the Gap- Banana Republic.

And seriously stop trying to be THAT hip with the "mix it up SJP style" tag line crap. You sound like you are trying to get yo' ass outta da hood.

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