Even cowgirls get the blues.

At the bookstore I work at, we're keeping that Sarah McLachlan "Best Of" with the song from the uber-depressing flashback scene in Toy Story 2 on near-incessant rotation (sometimes when they're feeling particularly merciful they switch it out for Frank Sinatra [almost always "New York New York" and "It was a Very Good Year," which is decidedly more melancholy than its brethren and probably consequently my favorite of Ol' Blue Eyes'] or the new Elvis Costello). I have nothing against Ms. McLachlan, save for the fact that her music brings to mind images of neglected cowgirl dolls and abandoned animals. It occasionally catches me off-guard during slower periods in the day and is ridiculously conducive to self-pity; it's a fail-safe way to make me wanna to curl into the fetal position and sob

Otherwise, the Borders job is pretty amazing as far as working in retail hell goes. Speaking of all things Pixar-related, one of the greatest perks being able to take home pretty much any book I want for two weeks (I have an insane public library fine thanks to a combination of personal irresponsibility and junior year term paper, don't laugh at me). This means I'm checking out books that I want to read but would never buy like a mofo; I'm currently borrowing David A. Price's the Pixar Touch. I could write about how I find the company's history fairly inspiring (because I totally do), or how disheartening it was to find out what a dick George Lucas was to a bunch of enthusiastic young people, but instead I really just want to say...

...you thought eating raw fruit and seeds would eliminate the need to bathe? Really, Steve Jobs? Really? My goodness.


I had the day off today, so I spent most of it lounging around reading said book. Molly and I went out for dinner at our favorite local Jew-owned deli (Katz's). Note to self: I could totally swing the whole vegetarian thing if Reuben sandwiches weren't so damn delicious. Afterwards we swung by Sara's, got coffee, and window-shopped. I picked up a copy of Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke (a sci-fi biggie I've yet to read anything by, because frankly 2001 always intimidated me when it wasn't putting me to sleep) for a dollar at Half Price. Speaking of science fiction I own, I want my copy of PKD's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? back after rewatching Blade Runner; why it is no longer in my possession it is a long, complicated, and infuriating story. Okay, so it's really only the latter and I could always go out and buy another copy for fairly cheap, but it's really the principle of the thing and it makes me wary about lending my books out to other people ever again. Actually, since I'm terrible at returning books and people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones and all, I don't normally mind people keeping my books. Keep them, love them, whatever, god knows I do, that's what they're there for and chances are I probably won't be reading them again any time soon; just don't claim they're actually YOURS and make a big fucking deal about it, ya jerk. (Here's an abridged version of the heartwarming tale: Girl buys book, girl happily lends book to boyfriend's best friend, boyfriend's best friend returns book to girl in front of boyfriend, boyfriend claims it is actually HIS book that girl borrowed, boyfriend is wrong but girl does not feel like arguing anymore even though she clearly remembers purchasing book at Half Price for $2.98 and having a conversation with the cashier about it, girl offers to let boyfriend have book to avoid further confrontation because the relationship was already on the rocks as it is and hey, what's three dollars?, girl is a moron for voluntarily putting herself in the wrong despite knowing otherwise but and the considerable level of resentment she still harbors concerning her missing mass market paperbacks is probably unhealthy at best.) I digress!


As mentioned in a previous entry, the air conditioning in my car works only sporadically, meaning I show up to work looking like a refugee from a natural disaster as a result of having to roll the windows down. Luckily enough, some music (particularly all things 90s slacker-chic) seems to be made for the specific purpose of driving-with-the-windows-down-in-sweltering-Houston-heat. Off the top of my head, artists include Galaxie 500, Pavement, Slowdive (particularly at night), Spiritualized, Catherine Wheel, and Big Star. Perhaps a formal list will follow some other time, but for now I do believe sleep is in my best interest.