Is there anything worse than good intentions? I hate them:

“Sorry, didn’t mean to run over your foot, my intentions were good.”

“Didn’t mean to stick my penis in your ear, I had good intentions.”

Anyway, I have been Miss G. Intentions for the whole of spring break and I am sick of myself.

Things I Intended To Do:

-Paint the bathroom. It is the most awful kind of sponged-on greyness. Who paints a room GREY in SEATTLE, fer christsakes?

-Clean out the file cabinet. Everytime I open it I find the the deed to the Lusitania or the souls of a thousand dead puppies or some gold doubloons. But what if the IRS comes knocking? I keep asking myself. Then I will be glad I have my embarrassing undergraduate paper from four years ago titled, “Courbet’s Romantic Redux: Gustave Courbet’s Struggle Against the Constraints of Realism.” Uck-puh! Truly I was smoking the crack. Now my papers are titled things like, “Response Paper,” and “Essay Two.” That certainly has a ring to it.

-Write something! Anything! I try to finish a short story every school break. I even found a sexy Portland literary/arts mag to submit to, and I have nothing. I even produced a little something over xmas break which turned into something more substansial elsewhere.

-Have a party! In someone else’s condo! The only way to travel! But then they crapping came home early and I was all tired from my stupid research report anyhow.

Things I Actually Did:

-Took my sister on her job shadow, with the very nice rock star. She had a great day, and so did I, because I sat in the studio all day reading Broca’s Brain by Carl Fucking Sagan.

-Watched Frannie pottytrain herself, because as much as you want to, you cannot force your little imp to make in the pot, even if you have a room full of candy and Barney videos. Even though the world is going to Hell in a Kate Spade clutch, thank Buddy Christ that my days of diaper-toting are so goddamed numbered.

-Went to the local Japanese Super Complex and bought many pleasing things to cook up, but am now too lazy to cook them. I am a goddamed psychic, I can see the future:

Tonight, at my house:

Mr. Husband: “What’s for dinner, babyhead?”

Me: “Um. Pancakes. And leftover squash. And…surimi…and a quail egg!”

Suddenly I am freaking culinary Yoko Ono.

Something good happened there, though. Bergamot gum. I am an Earl Grey worshipper and an occassional wearer of oil of bergamot.

Haiku for the Lotte Gum Company

O! Bergamot Gum
I delight in contemplating
odd-scented pieholes.

What I am Doing Right Now:

-Chowing fortune cookies.

Best fortune: “You will dance to a different beat next summer.”

Weirdest fortune: “Confucius say: Angel with wings not so hot as angel with arms.”

I, Asshole fortune: “Angel with wings not so great as Angel with a hot ass.”

Mmmm, angel wings.