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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


The Giants win the Pennant! The Giants win the Pennant! The Giants win the Pennant! The Giants win the Pennant! The Giants win the Pennant! The Giants win the Pennant!

I saw David Schwimmer at a café. As I walked by, he told the waiter that he and his friend (male) would be sharing the peanut butter cookie. He has to watch his silhouette for film and telelvision, and so he cannot permit himself the indulgence of an entire cookie, I said to myself. While I applaud his adherence to Strict Hollywood Food Guidelines, he just lost about ten thousand sexiness points in my book. Not that I ever found him that attractive, but a guy who partakes of only 1/2 of a cookie is not a man!

It’s the same with men who blowdry their hair. They are not men.

In other more manly news, the Giants are going to the World Series! Last night’s game was a nail-biter! As a native San Franciscan and longtime Giants fan, I am over the moon with excitement. My friend Kirk called yesterday evening from PacBell Park so Terence and I could hear the bedlam. It was insane! Kirk was hoarse from screaming. I was prickly all over.

I’m sure just as Mr. Schwimmer’s partial cookie has made him less alluring, so too is this new baseball confession of mine going to tarnish my reputation as a soignée girl of Frenchity Frenchness. Does that sentence make sense? Does it even matter? Je m’en fiche!

In truth, I am nowhere near as big a fan as Terence, who can actually claim to be a 3rd generation fan. His grandfather used to go to Seal Stadium to watch the Pacific Coast leagues before the Giants moved from New York. Terence has an old, felt pennant in his keepsake box, and streams the Giants’ games online. This, my friends, is a true fan.

I am waiting for an email from a client, and for a contractor to stop by and assess whether or not we can get a washer/dryer combo. This is folly, actually. We should have looked into this months and months ago. As I type, Terence is at an interview in San Jose, California, for a potential job in... Seoul, Korea! It’s a cuckoo crazy longshot, and I’m not sure how I feel about living with Northern Korean missiles pointed at my head, but what the hell, I could get an entire wardrobe of knock-offs for pennies.

9:25 a.m. - 2002-10-15



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