Sunday, March 31, 2001
So I got a job. And with it, I got a salary. And me and my salary went
to HMV and did some purchasing on St. Patrick's Day. My salary was the
one who spotted Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Volume II. I already own Volume
I, which features many of Dylan's best-known songs, including but not
limited to Like A Rolling Stone and Mr. Tambourine Man. Volume I showcases
the songs, such as "Blowin' In the Wind" and "The Times They Are A-Changin'",
which made Dylan synonymous with the summer of love. Volume II shows us
a different Bob Dylan—irreverent and ironic, but less intense—just as this
paragraph shows us a different Carlynn—hungover and pretentious, but still
amusing herself tremendously.
Also: Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Volume II only cost $23.00 for the two-CD
set. That's a bargain, yo. That's a fucking bargain.
So anyway, I'm trying to work up enthusiasm to go shopping. I need clothes
for work. All I have are nice skirts. And nice skirts are cool and all,
but I definitely think that I could get away with some decent-looking
pants. However, in order to get away with wearing decent-looking pants,
one is required to own them. And the truth is that I hate to shop. I
really do hate it. Some days it is less onerous than others, but it's
never my idea of a good time. Partly, this is because I hate to spend
money on something as pointless as clothing, and partly this is because
my thighs are in the wrong proportion to my waist, so pants shopping is
always a big rocking stressball. Jeans fit me great, but for some reason
the designers of non-denim slacks feel obligated to cut the pants with big
honking waists and skinny little thighs. Fuckers all.
When Ruthie says come see her in her honky-tonk lagoon, where I can
watch her waltz for free neath the Panamian moon, and I say, Aww, come on
now, you know you know about my debutante and she says, Your debutante
just knows what you need, but I know what you want. —BD
Yeah. Ruthie knows.
Here's the next page.