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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Surrender

I wore earplugs last night which is tantamount to waving the white flag of defeat.

If you could see the circles under my eyes you would realize how desperately I need sleep, and you would understand that blocking out noise was really the first step towards my salvation. My little vial of Lierac Diopticernes under-eye unguent is powerless.

I could still hear the neighbor’s bed creaking, but the sounds were muffled. I could also hear the other neighbor watching Catch Me If You Can, and the guy across the way in the other building snoring. The outside world is conspiring to keep me awake and apprised of everybody else’s activities so I did what any right thinking girl would do, and that is to shove little pieces of foam in her ears.

I went to a Quatro de Mayo party yesterday and it was an intimate little gathering of 8. The hostess made yummy margaritas and there was guacamole, chips and a 5-layer dip (which is so bad for you, but tastes so good.) A nice way to close the weekend. All of the people in attendance were folks that I’ve met since I’ve been down here, and they’re all decent eggs. That’s at least one point in LA’s favor. Though all of them used to live in San Francisco...

Anyway.

Our finances are in shambles again, however there’s a bright light on the horizon. Terence is freelancing for a few days this week at a design consultancy that he actually respects, doing work that he actually wants to do, and most importantly, getting paid cash money for his effort. I am still waiting for three invoices to be paid, and am about to start putting together a bid on a new project. Mr Bingo said that May would be the turnaround month, and maybe he's right.

When things get shaky like this, I usually withdraw money from my French account. Lately, the exchange rate has worked in my favor, since the euro is kicking the dollar’s ass--but the other day when I went to the ATM, I couldn’t withdraw any money. Why? Because the fricken ATM card has expired! And where is my new card? In Paris, at my branch, waiting for me to pick it up. Merde!

Here’s an alarming fashion trend: Ugg boots. When did these become de rigueur? It’s part of the 80s conspiracy of leg warmers, asymmetrical hair and horizontal striped tights (which I happen to like, but they only work on skinny-ass legs.) I’ve always thought the boots were aptly named-- “Ugg” short for “Uggly,” two g’s in there cause they’re extra hideous. I saw a lot of them in Santa Monica last weekend, but they’re starting to creep inland. There were three pairs of Uggs in the cubby holes at the yoga studio on Saturday.

9:39 a.m. - 2003-05-05

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