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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


a Friday lacking in any sort of freakitude

Another evening of free entertainment, this time courtesy of some friends in San Francisco.

Normally they come down to LA for these things, but this time around they had too many committments and couldnít make it.

Last night, Terence and I took in Big Dance Theaterís ďAntigone the tin can tied to her own damn tail.Ē It was a fusion of dance, music and theater and I very much enjoyed it. I liked Annie B. Parsons choreography and I loved the music.

Today has been sort of slow. I got up late, did a little work then decided to devote myself to preparing my taxes.


Iíve discovered something odd about myself. The poorer I am, the worse my bookkeeping is. I guess I feel like ďWhy bother being organized about finances when you donít really have any?Ē Itís so dementedly stupid, I canít believe I allowed myself such sloth.

When I have money, I know where every nickel and dime goes, and I religiously enter everything into Quicken. I looked at some of my old Quicken databases, and realized that I was very good at staying on top of my expenditures when I was living large.

For some reason, since I donít have any disposable income, I have given myself permission to be a bookkeeping slob. And now Iím paying for it. Iím missing a bunch of bank statements, I have no idea what checks were written for what... I wrote a check for $356 one day, then the very next, wrote another one $379. What the fuck? I am such an idiot!

I think I will qualify for a refund this year which is why Iím trying to get the taxes done early. Iíve got to get all the papers + receipts together, then I can send them off to my accountant for verification. The accountant is expensive but a) heís nice, b) heís honest, and c) his fee is tax-deductible. And I want the cash in my hot little hands.

Mr Rogers died. Along with our terror alert being downgraded from orange to yellow, that was big news in these parts. No surprise, I was not allowed to watch Mr Rogers when I was a kid. My parents thought he was a moron who talked down to children. When I was around 7 or 8, I sneakily watched a few episodes of the show, and guess what? I hated it! I thought he was a moron who treated me like a fellow moron! So yeah, the apple doesnít fall far from the tree.

I want someone to take me out to dinner right now. I want someone to drive me to a spa for a full-body slough and massage. Before dinner, duh. I want a haircut and an eyebrow wax (also before.) I want a date with a movie and the French popcorn that is half sucrť and half salť. Thereís nothing to eat in the house, and Terence is at Art Center doing his Alias (the software not the tv show) homework.

I need a vacation.

7:29 p.m. - 2003-02-28



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