(no subject)

It happened again. I have now had my phone number for three years, and I still get a parade of old ladies calling me to speak to Edith. I just cleared another message for Edith off of my answering machine by some woman who decided to ignore my message, which distinctly says that if you are trying to reach Edith, this is not Edith's phone number, so please don't leave a message for Edith. From all of the messages that I have received and from people who called and I actually spoke to, I figured out that Edith is one of the leaders of the local AARP chapter or something. Evidently, the phone number they listed for her is actually my phone number.

I just walked around Lower Manhattan with my friend John. We were bored, so we took the PATH train into the World Trade Center station. We then walked across the city to the west side, where there is a little shopping center at the end of Fulton St that neither of us knew about. From there we walked north along East Broadway through Chinatown, which smelled like fish. We stopped at Katz's Deli for a quick rest and a refreshing beverage, then headed west along Houston and Bleecker to the West Village. From there, we took the other PATH train back home. It feels like we walked six or seven miles.

This is interesting: Nobody had ever thought to make corduroy pants with horizontal ridges. Until now, that is: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9189599/site/newsweek/

(no subject)

Thank you damnitnicole for getting me paid time.

Except in the year and a half that I've had LJ, I've never had more than three userpics at a time. It's weird having this many userpics.

Only in the life of Richaarde...

You'd think it was my father's birthday today the way I was cooking. I mean, I was cooking steaks on the grille. I was cutting up potatoes, drizzling them with olive oil, and putting them on the grille. I was making salad. My father was basically puttering around doing nothing productive. What the hell!

I swung by my parent's two-apartment house with my father. The lunatic lady that lives upstairs caught on to the fact that it was my birthday, and gave me a matching set of ceramic salt and pepper shakers, trivets, and one of those things you rest your spoon on while you're cooking, and a set of potholders. This woman can't hold down a job and doesn't have money to feed herself with, but somehow she has all the money in the world for candles, placemats, and other little knick-knacks all around her apartment. She decided that the junk didn't match her fall-color cutlery and placemats, so she gave them to me. (By contrast, my plates and bowls don't match, I use an advertising circular from the newspaper as a placemat, and I don't give a rat's ass what any of it looks like.) I didn't really want to take anything from her, but evidently it was beyond her comprehension. After all, this is a woman with a beautiful and expensive marble kitchen table, coffee table, and lamp tables from Huffman-Koos, matched up with resin lawn chairs. Urm, okay, I thanked her and took the gifts.

Eh, whatever.

(no subject)

Gas Nazi in Belleville down to $2.959/gal for regular gas.

Whoa, not even close!

I don't know what algorithms they used to come up with these answers. Not even close.

I am '55% abnormal' according to The Abnormal Quiz