A QUESTION OF TASTE

LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your instincts for beauty are sharper than ever right now, so it’s the perfect time to redecorate or help someone else make their life a little sweeter. Reach out and see what happens.

Laura’s Log:
How weird is it that I’m looking forward to a funeral? It officially kicks off at 2 p.m., but Rufus is coming in for a dress rehearsal at 9. Seems he needs to familiarize himself with the hall so he doesn’t become too excited and piddle on the red carpet during the service. He’s also supposed to do a howl-through of “Lovin’ You”. It’s all beyond kooky. I wonder if Whitman will be laughing or crying from his grave. The more immediate fascination is in how the funeral goers will react.

Seems Gabriel and I are taking a break today. I have to admit I’m sort of relieved. After being sex-starved for so long, the past week of bed-‘im-and-spread-‘em has me exhausted. Who knew it would be such a quick transition from feeling like a spinster to feeling like a ho?

I’m heading to Estelle’s after work. Pizza dinner and then we’re going to plan a makeover for Gretel’s half of the kids’ room as a birthday present. She’s going to be four. I haven’t done anything with my apartment in the past seven years. (There are so many sad things arising from the last three sentences. I will not go there.)

I think Estelle is in cahoots with Mom. For years, Mom’s been telling me I have an eye; I just don’t use it. (Compliment, followed by insult. Classic Mom.) Now that I’m in between “real” jobs, the family is steering me into interior design. I just don’t think I can make a career out of looking at swatches. I don’t want to learn thirty-seven words for red. And making laundry rooms more luxurious than my entire living space would be painful. Nonetheless, Estelle has dreamed up the first design challenge: redo Gretel’s half of the room, but without any pink. Something tells me I’m going to have a very unhappy little client.

KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
4 EFFIN’ HRS OF LOOKING @ CONDOS YESTERDAY. BRUTAL. ½ A MIL GETS YOU A SHITHOLE RIGHT ON THE BAD PART OF HASTINGS. “A VIBRANT AREA,” THE AGENT SAID OF ONE SPOT. I’M GUESSING SHE MEANS THE GRAFFITI CHANGES WEEKLY.

I’M THINKING I MIGHT HAVE TO MOVE INTO MY LOCKER IN MINI STORAGE.

MARTY HAD THE NERVE TO BRING UP THE “VALUE” CARD IN SUGGESTING WE LOOK @ SOME LISTINGS IN SURREY & LANGLEY. I FLIPPED OUT, MAN. HE GOT A BIG FREAKIN’ GRIN ON HIS FACE. THE BASTARD WAS TOYIN’ W/ME WHEN I’M THIS CLOSE TO HAVING A BREAKDOWN. WHAT’S IT SAY ABOUT ME THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS SUCH AN ASS?

HE’S LINING UP SOME SHOWINGS AROUND MAIN AND NEAR COMMERCIAL. YEAH, I LIKE THOSE PLACES WELL ENUF WHEN I WANT TO TAKE A TRIP OUT OF DOWNTOWN, BUT LIVE THERE? WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THERE’S A SPOONFUL OF DIRT IN MY MOUTH?

“I GOT TASTE, MAN.”

MARTY SNORTED IN RESPONSE.

YEAH, I’LL START SHOPPING FOR A NEW BFF RIGHT AFTER I FIND A HOME.