Arigato Gozaimas

Major shakeup at work. I can't talk about it here, because you can be fired, I have learned, for talking about major shakeups at work on your blog.

Afterwards, me and J____ got dinner at this organic diner/juice bar where they spun Bob Marley's Greatest Hits on the jukebox. I got the Whole Earth Salad and promptly dropped half of it on my white linen pants. I just got through with the blotting and Woolite. I think they'll be fine. The waiter had dark eyes and a very finely shaped nose. J____'s tofu had a lot of salt. Salt with not a lot behind it. Salt for salt's sake. I hate that.

I'm feeling giggly and chatty right now. I may go out for a walk and make some phone calls.

After dinner, I got my eyebrows done. I'm obsessed with waxing. Not obsessed meaning that I do it all the time. In fact, I do it very rarely, and as the generous width of my very Italienne eyebrows indicates, I should probably do it more often. But I'm obsessed with the idea. That women spread hot wax on entirely sensitive parts of their body and then yank it off, along with any and all surface hair that happens to be in the way. I wrote a whole essay about this. It's not so bad.

When you first start, it hurts like fuck. I don't need to tell you this. But now that all the nerve endings are dead, it doesn't matter so much. Depressing Life Metaphor Alert.

The Other Live in Japan arrived yesterday. It's pretty wonderful! And I don't use exclaimation points often, so take that as earnest truth. I can't fathom that Scott Leonard is funny in two languages. I'm not even funny in one.

I'm moving on Sunday. The guy moving me is named Damien and he's in a band with a mellowdramatic name. I've only seen pictures, but they look like they'd be noisy. Sounds like the setup for a romance novel. Tattooed band boy and charming-yet-rather-shy editor girl. He moves her stuff. In more ways than one. Ba dum ching.

Mum, Ken, and The Grandparents were here this weekend. Which was traumatic and wonderful as always. They loved themselves some Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, which I absolutely knew they would. I think my favorite line in that show is, "I don't even like to have sex and eat bacon for six hours." Which gives you a pretty good idea of the general tenor of that show.

As a warning, my life will fall to hell over the next few days, so if you don't hear from me, don't worry. Just clamoring my way out of the ditch. We will resume regular programming sometime next week, undoubtedly, from a new location, deeper in hell.