tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Hot and bothered

Christ, Iím wearing the most uncomfortable outfit in the world. For starters, itís about 75 degrees here in lovely Chicagoland but like a giant boob I wore a cardigan sweater today. Itís a light sweater, but a sweater nonetheless, so Iím hot. The sweater is also just a hair too small to wear on its own Ė itís one of those sort of cool shrunken look cardigans that work well over a tight t-shirt, but when I wear it alone it gaps a bit at the buttons and threatens to expose my matronly bra to the world. Oh why canít I be like Weetabix and have a fabulous wardrobe of matching bras and panties that I wouldnít particularly mind having the world get a glimpse of? Because Iím a cheapskate when it comes to underwear, thatís why. I think I have one set of Ďsexyí matching underwear. Oh well Ė poor Steve. Anyway, I also have on a black A-line skirt - not bad in itself, but underneath Iím wearing one of those suck-it-all-in bike shorts contraptions that are hot and tight and are leaving indentations in my delicate thighs. Then I have on my rrrrowwwll knee high black high-heel boots which, although very rrrrowwwll, are also kind of hot. And because I didnít want to wear tights, I have on knee-highs (is there anything LESS sexy than knee-highs on a woman?) that have a texture so when I go to change for my spin class Iím sure Iíll have little textured indentations all over my calves. Thatís right Ė I know you all want me because if that isnít the most sexy outfit Iíve just described then I donít know what is. Not.

Tonight is the miniature pig roast at my house. Iím really hoping that my $19.70, 6.58 pound pork roast turns out OK because that would be a sad thing to waste. Itís been marinating for two days in a mixture of olive oil, rosemary, thyme, apple cider, pepper, shallots, and garlic and Iím just hoping that it tasted really good and Iím beyond happy that Steve is the one who is going to do all the handling of the not-so wee roastie because I get the heebie-jeebies from raw meat.

I have to make an unpleasant phone call tonight. My friend Walter, who has the brother to my cat, Toby, e-mailed me yesterday to let me know that Donut has cancer. Gah. Toby had a little cancerous boobah on top of his head a few years ago, but the vet removed it and it hasnít come back. I suspect that Donut has a little more than a boobah on his head. Iím thinking he has a giant alien weblike growth somewhere inside of him thatís going to kill him. Bah. Iím getting all weepy just writing this. First my co-workerís cat had to be put to sleep, then Megan had to put Hugo to sleep and now Donut. Thatís the one sucky thing about pets (besides the gobs of hair everywhere) Ė they almost always die before you do leaving little cat shaped holes in your heart. Ok I have to go splash some cold water on my face before all my co-workers start asking me whatís wrong.

3:09 p.m. - 2005-04-06


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