The Girl With the Faraway Eyes

Actually, they weren’t far away. They were in the seat across from me on the morning train. She was applying mascara. All the way from Dadeland North to Government Center, which is, help me out here RJ, what? thirty minutes?

That’s right. Thirty minutes of mascara application. I think that was about ten or twelve coats. Plus some khol around the inner rim. And while waiting for the mascara to dry, she passed her time plucking extraneous hair from her nose or lip. I couldn’t tell which, because the mirror was directly in front of both. But there were tweezers, and there was action in the upper lip/lower nostril area.

I would have gotten pictures but she kept giving me the stink eye for staring at her and she looked like the kind of bitch who would cut a girl.

Today we are getting a new well drilled. This isn’t such a big deal, really, since in Miami if you pull up a weed with really deep roots, you pretty much hit water. I think the original well was all of 18 feet deep.

Two days away from the office, however, has caused my work load and stress level to rise exponentially. Or is that geometrically? It’s a big work load and a ton of stress, OK? Whatevah.

And the spam comments are coming in about 50 a day again, offering discounted V-gra and H-dia and green tea extracts and who knows what else. I hate that shit with a passion, and until I can sit down with my laptop (still in Cupertino) and flip this site once and for all to Expression Engine, there is nothing I can do except turn off comments, and I won’t do that.

And just so you know? I am so depressed these days that it’s a good thing I don’t have a garage, if you get my meaning, if you catch my drift.