It's typical right? The day that I'm due to leave Sydney Australia Post pops one of those infuriating parcel collection notices in my letter box - thus, my new shoes and I will be apart ALL WEEKEND.
In better news, not only have I been delighting in the splendour of Larry David's Curb Your Enthusiasm but I think I may finally have just the kind of person who would appreciate me for who I am. Petty, selfish, small-minded. I get this feeling like Larry understands. In fact, I rather fancy the idea that he could be my foster Dad. I like to think about some cheesy 80s TV show involving Larry and me, kinda like Punky Brewster. Except that we'd say "fuck" and "cunt" a lot and we'd sit around bitching and moaning about tuna-fish sandwiches and whether or not its ok to leave the hairdresser without leaving a tip. I see me as an older Maebe Funke and him as a nasty, grumpy, less-waspy Mr Drummond. I see us pitching it to HBO...
I don't see them buying it.
Me on the other hand, I can't stop buying things. Three days in the country - will I survive without eBay, Facebook and Salon? One thing is for sure: I'm taking Pynchon to get me through.
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