Lady of Leisure (Read: Sloth)
Between November 3rd 2004 and January 14th 2004, I lived as a Lady of Leisure. I did nothing except for golf and go out for lunch, occasionally having an actual class to go to. Between January and May, I studied abroad in Spain, which is code for I went on a bender through Europe including a puke fest on my host mother’s toilet after a night of champagne and vodka/red bulls at some posh Madrid club. There was also sangria. When I returned home I did the unthinkable; I baked. Cookies, muffins and a cake and then drank the nights away over a bottle of the Yellowtail while I pined away about not having a job and how I would actually die if I didn’t find a job and health insurance for the inevitable alcohol poisoning.
I’m adept at doing nothing. Really fucking good at it. Right up there with playing the clarinet and listing the members of the 108th Congress in alphabetical order, I can totally sit around and do nothing. It’s my thing. In fact I spent four! Whole! Days! Doing nothing except for eating pie and the occasional filet – of – fish**. In fact when I finally ventured over to see my father, you know that man who is responsible for one half of my GNA, largely the half that says drink the bottle of wine, but also says why the hell can’t you hit par? Whyyyyy. Yeah, well him. When I finally did see him he questioned what I had been doing all day. I responded truthfully that I had been eating blueberry pie and then rolled over on to my back and watched Bamboozled (I told you G was channeling Marcus Garvey) and then actually had a physical altercation (I called him a fucking fucktard and kicked him) with G over the last piece of stuffing (G, being the more mature younger sibling that he is, then offered up his piece of stuffing after asking whether or not I minded a little Frank’s red hot on it. Love him). Thus the reason for why I couldn’t visit my dear old dad. I suck.
And strangely enough, being home in Upstate NY is the best environment for a life where the only necessities are cable television, a dvd player and a mother who makes sure that her babies are properly nourished with stuff crust pizza. There was nothing I had to do. In theory though, being particularly indolent and gluttonous isn’t a good quality to have. Neither is telling your father that you would have come over had your television watching habits been conducive to watching Luke and Laura’s first episode together. But whatever. The point is that right now, LB is enjoying a life of leisure. I phoned her and she’s been busy in Brussels and Paris and is now home and eating chips and she baked a motherfucking pumpkin pie.
Really, you should clearly ignore me now for it’s all the jealousy speaking. And because I could totally use more pie. And cable. And quality time with my golf clubs. And a life.
*Yep I’ve used this quote like 14 times now. I love it.
**I’m paying for this now. It’s called a waistline and it is not clearly visible.
Labels: gruyere with that wine