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Jun. 10th, 2002 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetSo I'm 32 today, the same age Alexander the Great was when he died. He'd conquered most of the known world by then. I'm having trouble finishing a simple dissertation. But one thing is for sure: Alexander never could have written about stereotypes of women in Tacitus, as Tacitus would not be born for another four centuries.
Ha. Take that, Al.
I also have no real desire to lead an army through Persia and points east, although since we're talking areas of Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, India and Pakistan I might be able to get government backing.
J. and I celebrated my natal day yesterday evening, with a pleasant meal of rosemary-stuffed Cornish game hen and greens followed by a clove-heavy spicecake with caramel frosting and sliced nectarine, all consumed in a most civilized fashion in the back yard with a light and bubbly prosecco. Then I got presents, including a CD from a band I'd never heard of, but which she figured rightly I'd like (being a fan of both the Pogues and the Dropkick Murphys), a bike helmet and a bike lock. This latter item was contained in a package I was instructed to open last. It seemed at first redundant and perhaps anticlimactic, as J.'s bike and the landlords' bikes we can use if we like have locks of their own. The power to say, "Ooh, I can use my *own* lock when I ride those bikes" might seem like an odd gift.
It was to accompany, however, the then-as-yet-to-be-purchased bike of my very own, the first such in a decade or two. A trip to Target followed, where a retro-stylin' Huffy 6-speed became mine, after much confusion about inconsistent pricing. It's not a serious sports bike by any stretch, but I don't intend to be a serious sports cyclist, so that works out well.
So hooray.
After we returned home we -- as you might expect -- talked about plot and technical details were we ever to put on a puppet show about WWI-era American sailors in Paris who, emboldened by absinthe, go about stealing panties from a French whore in answer to a request from a stateside cousin, based on a true story.
Today at work, however, is less amusing. My boss and I have managed to irritate one another thrice without his even arriving yet.
Ha. Take that, Al.
I also have no real desire to lead an army through Persia and points east, although since we're talking areas of Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, India and Pakistan I might be able to get government backing.
J. and I celebrated my natal day yesterday evening, with a pleasant meal of rosemary-stuffed Cornish game hen and greens followed by a clove-heavy spicecake with caramel frosting and sliced nectarine, all consumed in a most civilized fashion in the back yard with a light and bubbly prosecco. Then I got presents, including a CD from a band I'd never heard of, but which she figured rightly I'd like (being a fan of both the Pogues and the Dropkick Murphys), a bike helmet and a bike lock. This latter item was contained in a package I was instructed to open last. It seemed at first redundant and perhaps anticlimactic, as J.'s bike and the landlords' bikes we can use if we like have locks of their own. The power to say, "Ooh, I can use my *own* lock when I ride those bikes" might seem like an odd gift.
It was to accompany, however, the then-as-yet-to-be-purchased bike of my very own, the first such in a decade or two. A trip to Target followed, where a retro-stylin' Huffy 6-speed became mine, after much confusion about inconsistent pricing. It's not a serious sports bike by any stretch, but I don't intend to be a serious sports cyclist, so that works out well.
So hooray.
After we returned home we -- as you might expect -- talked about plot and technical details were we ever to put on a puppet show about WWI-era American sailors in Paris who, emboldened by absinthe, go about stealing panties from a French whore in answer to a request from a stateside cousin, based on a true story.
Today at work, however, is less amusing. My boss and I have managed to irritate one another thrice without his even arriving yet.
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no subject
Date: 2002-06-11 06:50 am (UTC)A co-worker of J.'s has "Swagger" and brought it in the day after J. played some Dropkicks, saying that she would probably like it. J. agreed (although we think it's much more Pogues/McGowan than Dropkickety -- there's one song in particular that had us checking the liner notes to see if Shane was making a guest appearance; fortunately, however, the ones that are less reminiscent are equally good). She says she waited all the way until the end of the second song to decide that she was going to buy it for me.