thediastema's diary

thediastema's Diaryland Diary

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Don't Be Like Di, Installment II

Manservant Master, it's time for another installment of everybody's favourite self-help column, Don't Be Like Di.

Allergic to juniper? Make sure there's none in your shampoo.
Inventory and revenue perfectly aligned? Don't find a way to make them $40 off in inventory's favour by being stupid.
Change your oil every three million billion years at the most. Don't procrasturbate.
Don't waste gasoline cruising the perimetre of your neighbourhood just because you don't feel you can go home yet if Sister Golden Hair happens to be on the radio.
Get up when your alarm goes off.
Don't be Di's new coworker, who has the same given name and the same birthday. This will impede your progress in striving not to be like Di. And it'll make you a freak who gets a crush on the new guy. Crushing on coworkers is a no-no to begin with, and it will even further impede your efforts to NOT BE LIKE DI.

Ugh.

Time to pilfer a survey. Yeah, originality's out of fashion, maaaaaan.

7 things most don't know about me:

1. I never, ever get asked out. Ever. (What do you MEAN, "we kinda figured"?)

2. I have ridden on the back of a live elephant.

3. I was a National Merit Finalist, although I accomplished little else in high school.

4. I currently have an awful case of something I'd like to call "Dave Foley's back" disease. I'll spare you any elaboration.

5. My father met Frank Zappa.

6. I had all my adult teeth by about grade 4.

7. I've never been baptised or gone skiing. This is more impressive on a local scale.

7 behaviours/personality types that I can't stand:

1. Post-toilet-non-hand-washers. And yes, urinals count, too.

2. People who call it "A Midsummer's Night Dream." ESPECIALLY WHEN ACTORS DO IT! Grr.

3. Dangling participles -- only before I've had my coffee.

4. People who stomp everywhere they go. Master the inaudible footstep and you'll capture my heart.

5. ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER.

6. 99 per cent of all poetry. (Yeah, sorry, everybody.)

7. Tailgating. Just pass me, Hayseed.

7 silly things that piss me off or frustrate me

1. Gershwin

2. Carl Sandburg

3. The Salt Lake Tribune and most of its staff (Greg Burton, you are forever exempt from this distinction)

4. Most of my scalp

5. People who correct the way I pronounce stuff (Melissa, you are forever exempt from this distinction)

6. Bad hygiene

7. Marie Callendar's cookies

7 perfect settings:

1. In the bathtub discussing philosophy with my cat, who supervises my grooming from his royal post atop the john.

2. In Hamilton, at a stoplight, rocking out to The Police, well aware someone's watching, pretending to think nobody is.

3. Quaffing beer and watching Monkeybone with a coworker in the earliest hours of 11 September, with no idea what lay ahead.

4. This is a blatant takeoff of the one Heidi used: playing "Having an Average Weekend" as loud as the stereo would permit and throwing ourselves on the double beds to aggravate the box springs and taunt the horny couple next door, followed immediately by HOURS of dialogue in Chipmunk voice.

5. Joking with defectives the last time I see them about putting the boss on drugs to see what happens.

6. This'll sound weird, but here it is. My mother washing the blood out of my hair a few days following the accident in August of 'aught-zero.

7. Being thirteen and plastered from the tiny amount of alcohol in the tiny amount of vanilla extract in the massive amount of raw slice-and-bake cookie dough I've just split with Sis and a friend as we cruise the greater Vancouver area and perform the greatest hits of Sharon, Lois and Bram for all our fellow motorists -- with the actions, of course.

7 bands/artists I listened to [past 24 hours]:

1. The Police

2. America (don't laugh)

3. Sloan

4. Duke Ellington

5. The player piano in the lobby at work

6. Myself, caterwauling histrionically in the bathtub.

7. The KGB, but only from that pesky DJ in my head.

7 books I'm sortof or currently reading:

1. Microserfs by Douglas Coupland

2. Paper journal from travels to LA.

3. Okay, not a book, really, but a great magazine.