Oops, but I’ve been home all week trying to stay off the internet.
In case any of you have been wondering about my skittish trackpad finger, my solution was to get a cute little optical mouse for my iBook. I’m sure that in time I’ll get used to feeling up my computer, but since I’m switching back and forth between a desktop machine and a laptop so much right now, I’m sticking with the mouse.
Over at Gapers’ Block you can see what my friend Shylo and I did for kicks a few months ago, which was go to the cafe at American Girl Place with a tarted-up knockoff doll we got at Target. Ever since American Girl Place opened and I heard that the cafe serves dolls I’ve been fascinated with the place.
They are pretty hardcore about the cafe reservations there. When I called they asked for my credit card number and my daughter’s name. “Uh… Shylo?” I said. They requested her date of birth. I couldn’t think of the appropriate year. “She’s uh, seven,” I said. “Now when was that? They grow up so fast.” I actually thought we’d get in some kind of trouble for showing up childless and with a fucked-up doll. It turned out fine, though. The waitress said that women come in for lunch all the time, and they borrow dolls that have been set out in the cafe for that purpose. No, really, they have private dancer dolls.
I still have the doll we brought, by the way. I bring her out at parties, and guys confess to being oddly attracted to her.
