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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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L-O-V-E, I love you

If Irving plays in your town, you *must* go see them. I insist. They are so, so great and you will not be disappointed. If they don’t tour your neck of the woods, go to their label www.eeniemeenie.com and watch the little Quicktime video to wallow in their adorableness. The other bands on eenie meenie are good, too.

Hilary got to Amoeba before me, and met the guy who runs the label. He invited her (and me by association) to his Christmastime Chili Cook-off. She’s supposed to email him today to get the details. Not only did we get a party invite, but we also scored a free cd and some candy. Doesn’t take much to get me excited.

Afterwards we went to Zen Grill for dinner and ate the best thing on the menu: sizzling pan-fried tofu steak. It’s 100% vegetarian, but Terence is convinced the dish must have a meat-sauce because nothing tofu-based could be that damned good. It really is that tasty.

I think I’m going to be oozing garlic from my pores all day today, so I apologize in advance to anyone I might offend.

Pondering how the web can’t do jack about scent, and about how sensitive my sense of smell is, I got to thinking about how much more evocative it would be for me to tell you what I smell like, or what smells I like, rather than what I look like or think like.

Like.

This is what I smell like (when I’m not oozing garlic:) Annick Goutal Petite Chérie. Every now and then when I’m feeling a little more soignée, I smell like Chanel No. 19. I love the smell of coffee and tangerines and rain.

I really am Ferdinand the Bull.

Still no word from Terence in Seoul, but I guess it doesn’t really matter since I have to go to LAX to pick him up tonight. I wonder if we’ll be moving to Korea? My older sister is psyched at the prospect, and this friend of ours said he’d come visit because apparently you can snowboard for $25. I don’t know about that, but it’s nice to know that people we love will come to play.

I’ve got to finish printing and cleaning up. Then I have to go to class and find out why that fucking hippy burnout of a silkscreening teacher gave me a ‘W’ as a mid-semester grade. Grrr.

11:38 a.m. - 2002-12-06

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