single occupancy
IN WHICH I WANDER AROUND SAN DIEGO
There are palm trees here. And mountains. And fish tacos, and no one is afraid of the very idea of a “fish taco,” because we are very near the ocean so the fish is not like several months old as it would be in Chicago. I am sorry to be so wide-eyed and goofy about geography, but these things are unusual to a flatland midwesterner like me.
A VERY BORING PARAGRAPH ABOUT NUTRITION
Yesterday before I left for work/the airport LT made me a spinach and feta omlette, with triangle toast and fresh juice and everything, in a last-gasp burst of spousal niceness before my days and days of the single business traveler life. Which was good, because it turned out to be the last good food I had all day. I tried to get something to eat at the airport at around 3 pm, especially after I realized that I wouldn't be getting to my hotel until at least 8. That something turned out to be some weird-tasting broccoli-cheddar soup and a salad that did not even begin to deserve the title of “Caesar.” On the plane they threw a box of food at me and I took it, hoping for some fresh fruit (a girl can dream), because my insides were starting to feel all strange from the previous night's cheap beer and artificial-butter-flavor popcorn, combined with the icky soup and salad, but instead inside the airplane box was a turkey sandwich and a cup of disturbingly garish macaroni salad. I stuck with ginger ale.
UNCONNECTED AND IT FEELS SO BAD
I am at a Kinko's right now. It is stupidly difficult to get any internet access at the Hyatt (why would they assume you would only want to check your e-mail on weekdays?). However, my room is pretty nice, and I have a tiny balcony with patio furniture and a view of the marina. There's a bar downstairs with Sierra Nevada on tap and free tortilla chips and more atmosphere than you would expect from a hotel bar. And I have a coffeemaker in my room. The label on it says “Mr Coffee Concepts.” I like thinking about Mr Coffee pondering really big coffee concepts: What is coffee? Where does coffee come from? What existed before coffee? Do I have free will or is all coffee-making determinstic? And who drinks decaf?
MENAGE A GOTH
Between my lonely barfly beers (reading and scribbling) and my epic journey across flyover country, I managed to get myself quite tuckered out last night so I slept okay. I had some odd sex-dreams, one where I was having sex with two men (which sounds like the height of awkwardness in real life but worked okay in the dream). One was a major-goth young kid with eyeliner etc and the other was more of regular eggheady geek sort of guy. In the dream, when I took off my shirt, the regular guy said, “you have a nice rack for being such a little lady.” Dream indeed, because there is NO WAY IN HELL I would ever sleep with somebody who used the terms “nice rack” or “little lady,” much less both in one sentence. My goodness, no.
—mimi smartypants paid three dollars and eighty cents just to type this for you.