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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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C�line Dion est chiante!

I forgot to mention in my last entry that there were people doing snorty drugs in the bathroom at The Echo (where I went dancing on Saturday night.) I don't know why I was so tripped out about this. Perhaps it was because it seemed like such a profoundly 80s activity to engage in, and it was indeed 80s night. How � propos.

I was drying my hands, mesmerized by the girls� feet as they scuttled around the toilet, staking out their spot. I wasn�t sad about not participating, I wasn�t shocked or surprised. There was recognition and an odd feeling of being in a control room, watching history rolling backwards, all slow motion and shit. I like to call these my Moments of Adult Clarity, those times where I disappear and float up and view things from above. It is similar to the alcoholic�s Moment of Clarity, however without the ham-handed stupid Mike Figgis overtones.

Of course, once I got back to the table where my friends were sitting, that adult clarity was but a distant memory. �Hey, there are totally people doing snorty drugs in the bathrooms!�

And now for something completely different...

Some friends from SF came into town yesterday so I have not done a lick of work. We went out to a bar last night, then today had breakfast and did a little shopping in Santa Monica. I am finally going to retire my red Hogan tennis shoes and replace them with my new, navy blue suede Gazelles. I would have preferred red shoes but they had none. I don�t know why I must always have red shoes, it�s become some crazy kind of Thing with me. My friend Hilary thinks there�s something mystical about red on the feet, something to do with Feng Shui and good luck. I sort of believe her because I read an article about Christian Louboutin and his shoes always have red soles for a very similar reason, but I prefer to think of my predilection as having nothing to do with a world famous shoe designer and his influence on my style and taste, but more being an outgrowth of my dance fetish and the film �The Red Shoes.� It�s really, really sad that my Hogan shoes have holes in the soles (Stop that rhyming, I mean it! Anybody wanna a peanut?)

Argh. This daylight savings shite has me exhausted and cranky. Someone needs a nap.

ps: I just had to put it out there that C�line Dion est chiante because I saw a poster with her face on it, and I can't stand her simpering foolishness. She bugs.

5:00 p.m. - 2002-04-08

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