2004-11-20 || 2:30 p.m.

|| top of the pops! ||

i am lying in last night's clothes in kelly's makeshift room, all old curtains and sheets and that yuck refrigerator smell seeping in from the kitchen, listening to d and j 'jamming' in the living room of ire-deutschland house. i slept over for the first time last night and was terrified of the ghosts, that they would make the regular commotion in the kitchen/whisper in old lady voices in my ear. for being a ghosty afficionado i do not want any otherworldly contact while laying in someone else's sleeping bag with my sister too far to grab onto (she refuses to sleep with me for the unwavering j.h. cuddle factor). last night we went to see a coupla bands nad the bbc's top of the pops was there to film it and it all felt like an episode of a tv teen drama. live at the peach pit. live at the bait shack. like at the max. we sat at a booth in the back drawing floorplans of our rooms and good t-shirt slogans and dream belt buckles and the questionable fashion decisions of those around us, i.e. legwarmers + high heels = looking decidedly goat-y. there was the tiniest bit of dancing, a most half-hearted search for america's next top boyfriend, and giving up on any quest for intoxication due to the 6-dollar very weak drinks. we were defeated.
this morning kell and i went out to breakfast and drank too much coffee and ate too many grits and then stopped at thrift town for muu muus for our mexican holiday. nine days til serious hand family vacation powwow. i forecast lots of drinks adorned with pineapple slices, bingo, funny sunburns, rick bayless sightings, rampant bickering, and mummy gettin drunk on the daily drink specials. viva a mexico.

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