Twin Urbania Peaks
I'm currently in the middle of overpacking for my trip and trying to finish up work before I go. What a great way to spend my last 12 hours at home!! Let's take a poll. Say that the next two weeks of your life include the following activities: going to classes, working in a computer lab, attending a few "parties" for the workshop, walking around the steamy Midwest, going to a gym. How many articles of clothing do you need to cover the bottom half of your body? (Right now I'm at 7: 3 pair of capri pants for daily wear; a pair of jeans (possible for casual party); a pair of shorts (see steamy Midwest); a pair of dress pants or skirt (for more uptight party); pair of gym pants. Too much? Too little? Just right? Call me Goldilocks!
The other thing I have to tell y'all is that I had the most David Lynch experience today. I had to send a pair of shoes back to Zappos, bless them, with their "print out the UPS label and drop it in a pick-up box" policy. Googlemaps says that the nearest box is a mile from my house, so I swing by on my way home. The street address lands me in front of the "Urbania Department of Mental Hygiene." {My house is a mile from here? That should be good for resale!] I park and try the door. A voice mumbles incomprehensibly to me from the intercom. The door swings open. There is a huge glassed-in reception desk in front of me. I walk to the side with the window, and a little person (literally) in a state uniform is there to greet me. "Do you have a UPS drop box?" "Yeees, eets over thhherre." [That's my best approximation of an Eastern European accent.] I opened the drop box expecting to find a human ear or Naomi Watts or something equally surreal and disturbing. Needless to say, it was empty.
If Lynch is going to take 5 years to film Inland Empire, then I suggest his next feature should be "Urbania." Let's see if Laura Dern will drag her skinny ass to the Northeast.
The other thing I have to tell y'all is that I had the most David Lynch experience today. I had to send a pair of shoes back to Zappos, bless them, with their "print out the UPS label and drop it in a pick-up box" policy. Googlemaps says that the nearest box is a mile from my house, so I swing by on my way home. The street address lands me in front of the "Urbania Department of Mental Hygiene." {My house is a mile from here? That should be good for resale!] I park and try the door. A voice mumbles incomprehensibly to me from the intercom. The door swings open. There is a huge glassed-in reception desk in front of me. I walk to the side with the window, and a little person (literally) in a state uniform is there to greet me. "Do you have a UPS drop box?" "Yeees, eets over thhherre." [That's my best approximation of an Eastern European accent.] I opened the drop box expecting to find a human ear or Naomi Watts or something equally surreal and disturbing. Needless to say, it was empty.
If Lynch is going to take 5 years to film Inland Empire, then I suggest his next feature should be "Urbania." Let's see if Laura Dern will drag her skinny ass to the Northeast.
Labels: weirdness; closet crisis
posted by kfluff at 8:23 PM
1 Comments:
Very cool. Did zee leetle person snap his fingers to an unheard beat as you walked out?
I had a good omen last Friday: A little-person couple were in my coffee shop, with a big baby carriage.
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