doing almost everything in a kind-of sort-of style.

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maybe i am currently...
listening to:
iron and wine
the sea and the rhythm

obsessed with:
one year and sixteen days from today.

looking at:
letters making words making sentences making stories.

flirting with:
success.

wanting to:
just fucking do it and stop pussyfooting around.

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pretty pictures

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archives
july 2004
june 2004
may 2004
april 2004
march 2004
february 2004
january 2004
december 2003
november 2003
october 2003
september 2003
august 2003
july 2003
june 2003
may 2003
april 2003
march 2003
february 2003
january 2003
december 2002
november 2002
october 2002
september 2002
august 2002
july 2002
june 2002
may 2002
april 2002
march 2002
february 2002
january 2002
december 2001
august 2001
july 2001
june 2001
may 2001
april 2001
march 2001
coygirl archives

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other junk
buy me stuff.
tell me stuff.
mirror me stuff.
blog me stuff.

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i made this for you so you can link to me because i love you when you love me and etc.

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elsewhere
alan
richard
ben
boingboing
bryan
denise
claudia
greg
robert
doctorow
dakota
daniel
douglas
megan
josh
van
halfempty
anonny
emory
ted
jennifer
laurel
katie
keith
kottke
justin
lisey
maura
nick
nedia
jason
peter
pippa
kristen
rebecca
cory
charles
albie
tammy
toadboy
thomas
andre
gregory
lauren
matty
opus

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10.22.2003 - link

ryan is the only person to impress me with his mention of the untimely demise of mr. smith. everyone else: take notes, for this is a lesson on brevity and class. get some.



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10.10.2003 - link

advice from the defeated
if a person is acting as though they've been defeated, try to be a team player and ask them how they're doing instead of making them feel like an even bigger loser. chances are, they've actually been defeated a few times recently and could probably use a little pep talk before heading back into the game.



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10.5.2003 - link

slumps
recently, due to a variety of things such as lethargy, apathy, depression and/or work/life-related stresses, i've packed on around 7 pounds. while that may not seem like a lot, those 7 pounds are the result of a carb binge like no other. pizza, pasta, bread and ice cream are the primary offenders. so when i carb binge like this, i don't necessarily gain a lot of weight, but i get puffy. swollen. i inflate like a beached whale. and as hot as that may sound, i assure you, it's just not very pretty.

these 7 pounds, we'll call them The Puff Factor, are bringing me down. i lack the confidence to shop for new clothes. i can't be bothered with the gym. i manage to talk myself into believing that my job isn't so bad, really. i'm certainly not socializing so much these days. and god bless him, my boyfriend hasn't likely seen me naked in a fortnight. or longer, maybe, as i have no idea how long a fortnight actually is.

so while The Puff Factor weighs heavily on my brain (and thighs), i try go about my days as per usual. i go to work. i take a break from work to get coffee. i drag julie with me to get coffee. coincidentally, julie has also fallen victim to lethargy and stress and feels about as attractive as i do lately. so to boost our spirits, we walk to starbucks, feeling wretched and ugly and extremely downtrodden thanks to our limited in-take of caffeine for the day. on the way, a pick-up truck full of yard workers drives by slowly. the person in the passenger seat (ok, well, there are 4 people in the cabin meaning there are actually 3 people in the passenger seat, but this one is closest to the door) sorta leans out the window, eyes wide and mouth a-smile, and says something unintelligible but vaguely resembling a cat call.

clearly confused, julie and i look at each other, smirk, pretend like that couldn't have possibly just happened, and continue walking.

we get to starbucks and take our place in line behind some guy and in front of all the pastries. julie and i talk about how great everything looks, and with false conviction i announce that i will not be partaking in the sweets. the guy holds his cell phone away from his ear long enough to smile at us and say "this is a counter full of evil...you don't want any of it. trust me. except maybe this..." while picking up a bowl of fruit. he thinks he's being charming and witty. he also thinks he's important enough to talk on his cell phone the entire time he's ordering his coffee. julie and i sort of laugh nervously, not really knowing if this guy is flirting or giving us some much needed nutrition advice after checking out our ever-expanding asses.

we get our coffee drinks and head back to the office. on the way, a homeless guy approaches us. as he gets near, he sort of veers towards us and says something we don't understand but that is obviously lewd and sexual in nature. we giggle like insecure school girls and ask if the other understood what was just said. still laughing and blushing a little, we look up to see yet another man coming our way with a look of lust in his eyes. he, too, mutters something in our general direction that we once again don't understand.

julie thinks if we keep walking this path day after day, the whole story will become clear to us not unlike what happened to bill murray in the hit movie "groundhog day". i have other theories.

the first of my theories is that, like me, everyone else in the world is experiencing a slump. maybe they've all gained 7 pounds, too. maybe they've been applying for new jobs and not landing them. maybe they're too lazy to go to the gym every day. maybe they're eating for two, even though they're not pregnant either. could be that there's something in the air, and i don't mean autumn. maybe the end of summer cued in the air of desperation and everyone's willing to take whatever they can get.

or...

maybe despite my slump i'm still under the impression that i'm All That. maybe each of these passers-by were actually saying things like "hey bitch, you have toilet paper on your shoe!" or "i have a flat, can i borrow that spare tire under your shirt?" or "i have herpes but i still have needs!" and no matter what vile dialogue spews from these men's mouths, i'm convinced that they want me *and* The Puff Factor bad.

so for the next few weeks, my reaction to compliments will be something like this:
"dana, you look really hot in those pants," you may say to me. then i will immediately think, "wow, you're really desperate. i bet you're unemployed. if you are employed, i bet you're really underpaid. if you're highly paid, i bet you have a tiny penis. if you have a large penis, you probably just got dumped by a hot chick." and then, once i've beaten you down in my mind, i will think, "man, you're right. i really do look pretty hot in these pants." and then i will use that brief moment of increased self-esteem to go pick up the first homeless guy to pass me by and mutter something under his breath only to find out that what he was actually saying to me was "give me your leftovers, superchunk, your ass is big enough as-is."

and so the cycle continues...



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maybeiam.com and everything herein = dana j. robinson and not you.