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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Christina Crawford can kiss my ass!

Have I mentioned the formerly double secret Beck show on the 24th?

Let me tell you, it was way more exciting on Monday (because on Tuesday, the Knitting Factory sent out an announcement about remaining tickets on one of their e-lists.) Monday was better because only people who were freakish Beck-o-philes knew about it (via a subscription list on his website) and you needed not only a special phone number but also 2 secret extensions.

I love Beck. He is plain rad. And I’ve got 6 tickets.

The apartment is nearing my and Joan Crawford’s standards for cleanliness and neatness, just in time for my friends’ visit. Of course, they probably won’t even appreciate or care that the place is immaculate since they’re staying in a hotel down the road. But I will sleep better knowing that the bathroom is germ and hair/dust free, and that the sink in the kitchen is blinding white. When I was a kid, my mother would regularly make her rounds on Saturdays, checking the housekeeping in our bedrooms and she would always get on my case about the dust accumulated under my bed. “How can you sleep knowing there’s all that dust under there?” to which I would reply, “Out of sight, out of mind.” This drove her nuts, but it drove me even more nuts because at 8, I could never fake a clean room by stashing things under my bed; I actually had to put them away. I did not get rid of the dust under my bed today because I do not yet have a vacuum and I was too lazy to sweep. It’s so scary to realize that as I get older, the dust kinda does bother me more and more (though not to the point where I’m going to lose sleep over its existence under my bed.) It’s even scarier to realize that if you saw Mommie Dearest again, you’d probably be more empathetic towards Mommie.


4:36 p.m. - 2002-02-15



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