So about that party on Saturday night.
It was rad. There were goody bags. Doug's house is full of stuff, and art, and art stuff, and in order to clear out some of it, he portioned it into goody bags for all the guests. And I'm talking about supermarket-sized paper bags. Um um?
And each bag was different, and many of them were amazing, and mine was, I think, the very best. Along with Halloween candy, ziplock bags full of vintage matchbooks, Japanese cue cards, underwear catalogues from 1964 and a magazine featuring Mr.Winkles, it contained a vintage Mr. Peanut doll! Made of cloth and stuffed to hug! I loff the places where his ear flops would be if he had ear flops!
I snagged my parents' bags as well, with their blessing, and got a book about Canada (not Doug's book about Canada, but a massive sort of paper museum of Canadian history), a Hanna Barbara bobble-head Top Cat, a plastic train model kit of a ranch house with a little white, poorly molded family, a BC Hydro pamphlet on "the portage mountain project" from the 1960's, and a Captain Canuck comic (#5) from August 1979, featuring Canada's own superhero in the Nazi-ridden future of 1994!
Delights upon delights. I'm telling you.
Then yesterday was my brother's birthday. He was born on the 27th of August and I was born on the 27th of October. My best friend when I was little was also born on the 27th, and I think I took it for granted then that everyone I was close to would (and should) have been born on the 27th of a different month.
Numbers made a kind of sense to me then. Kind of.
No more.
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7 comments:
Back it up here. You have a BROTHER?
Also, you share a birthday with Sylvia Plath and Dylan Thomas. And my very first boyfriend, Danny.
Mm, presents. I think presents should be (er) present at every social meeting. All presents, all the time.
Did your brother like the instrument you got him?
Yeah. He knew what it was, too. A Kalimba in Western Africa and a M'bira in Mozambique.
Plus, I stuck a twenty inside it. Classy.
I hope your stomach feels better today! Poornieee!
i want your pants
Dude. I want you to want my pants. They are sad and empty and need a good home. By which I mean, ass.
Aren't you leaving town right away? Should I give Narns the pants to give to you?
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