Tell all the Truth but tell it slant

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant –Emily Dickinson

So after weeks and weeks of contemplation, I’ve finally decided to start a web blog. The world will be a better place I am certain. I would love to write something wry and witty for my first entry, but I decided to write the following instead:

This morning I… tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of ambition— wait, that wasn’t me, that was Dolly Parton. While we have the same sized boobs, that’s where the similarity ends (just kiddin’ about the boobs— mine are probably bigger.)

Actually I just fell out of bed and then lay on the floor hoping the clock was wrong. Everyone who knows my morning rituals will tell you I watch “Charmed” at 9 AM when I’m not at the gym working out. But this morning, not even the Halliwell sisters could charm me from my slumber.

So I was dragging serious ass. I don’t drink the black mojo juice with any regularity. It has the potential of stunting my growth and I want to be 5’10” like Cindy Crawford. So no coffee, no caffeine, no nothing...

That was until my coworker asked me to go get some brew with him. I thought, heck I’m already six-foot, maybe some coffee with shrink me 2 inches. We hit the infamous coffee conglomerate on the corner (betcha can’t guess which one!) and I ended up with a fatty latte. I figure it’s mostly milk, so it must do a body good.

Work was the usual— email after email to people in the company I never see or talk to, trying to track down something or another for a manager who doesn’t want to do it herself.

I also ordered office supplies, because I have the power.

“Order me some paper clips,” a coworker begged.

“Did you offer unto me a sacrifice of copier paper?” I bellowed.

“Yes, and I even burned some file folders,” she cried.

“Then it shall be done.”

Coming home from work was uneventful. Nothing happened on the J— there was a cute guy sitting across from me but I never flirt so I really shouldn’t bother looking around the car to see who’s cute and who’s not.

One of my roomies got on at 18th Street and we chatted as the J meandered up the hill. We got off at 24th and made our way home.

I watched “Charmed” at 6 PM with the other roomie. The show is so bad it’s good— kind of like eating deep fried ice cream. TNT shows the show at least twice a day (except for when it’s preempted by sports) and on Tuesdays they show it three times: 9 AM, 6 PM and at 10 PM.

The thing I like most about the show, besides the awful acting, is the fact that the show portrays San Francisco with total LA flair. It’s totally absurd, as any San Franciscan will tell you.

After the show I thought I would go down to the drug store to pick up some deodorant and ant poison but I hit the road with the Charmed-watching roomie instead. We picked up his cutie of a girlie friend and we headed over to the Haight. She produced some herb and I figured, when in the Haight do as the Haightians. So out of a mocked up lipstick pipe I huffed and puffed all the while outside the Park District Police Station.

I had two hits and they had no effect. I would have to smoke a tree to get the slightest buzz. Maybe it’s because I’m from Mendocino County— where it’s practically sold at Safeway Stores. I’m not a big time smoker— I’ve never bought it and I totally could do without it.

We went to Amoeba, where I was inevitably overwhelmed by all the music choices. My memory puddles and thoughts become muddied as I try to remember who I like to listen to and what CDs I may want to purchase.

As I peruse the lines of CDs all standing so attentively, each wanting me to take it home— I see hundreds of the same CD huddled together. Of course it’s a CD I already own. I instantly feel tragically uncool for having other people’s castaways still in my possession. But I like Paula Cole, so f--- all of you! :P

There were more Shawn Mullins CDs than I could count. I felt sorry for him, then again I’ve only heard that one song— you know the one, “Everything will be all right, rockabye…” I think any songwriter who writes the the lyrics “They hung out with folks like Dennis Hopper, Bob Seger, Sonny & Cher” deserves to be a one-hit wonder.

I picked up three CDs, two by Liz Phair, “Juvenilia” and “Whip-Smart”, the latter of which I owned but lost. I think she is so sexy. The other CD I purchased was Jeff Buckley’s “Graces” if only because it has Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” on it. But I like Jeff Buckley so I’m happy with my choices.

When I took my CDs up to the registers I knew the guy behind the counter was judging my purchase. “These CDs are crap,” he thought to himself as he asked “Do you want this to be debit or credit?” Yeah, just give me my CDs foo’, thank you very much and have a nice evening.

A person can’t go to a store like Amoeba and buy guilty pleasures like anything by a boy band or a pop princess. I think you’re tagged as a crap consumer if you do, and the store staff keeps your picture on file as being lame, bringing it out during store parties to make fun of you. “This is the schmuck who bought 98 Degrees and Christina Aguilera!”

Shoot— look at the time. Time for bed. Tomorrow will be an early day.