{"id":651,"date":"2004-01-03T23:00:00","date_gmt":"2004-01-04T06:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chocolatemussolini.com\/cm\/default.asp?n=157"},"modified":"2004-01-03T23:00:00","modified_gmt":"2004-01-04T06:00:00","slug":"secrets","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/?p=651","title":{"rendered":"Secrets"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dear Friends,<\/p>\n

This year, I’m declaring moral bankruptcy. I’ve been living the life for years, but I think it’s time to finally file the paperwork and raise my right hand. Be on the books, so to speak. It’s the right thing to do.<\/p>\n

<\/a>If you have the opportunity to see Donnie Darko<\/i> on a very large screen, you must do so. Silas and I went to see it last night at midnight at the Uptown, and it was incredible. There was even a guy wandering around in a supersexy Frank-suit1<\/a><\/sup><\/span>. I thought that pre-buying tickets would save us from having to wait in line in the 10-degree weather, but I was very, very wrong. And if, theoretically speaking, you were to arrive to see an awesome movie mind-altered in any way, standing in the cold for half an hour will provide you with all the clear-headedness you never wanted. I’m just saying.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Today I forced myself to go clothes shopping, because my favorite cords have developed a hole in the crotch, and in accordance with all things Old-Navy, are worn out after about 2 months. Once the hole gets to the point where people can tell the color of your underwear, they are no longer wearable2<\/a><\/sup><\/span>.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Now, I have found a way to make clothes shopping not only tolerable, but pleasant. However, I cannot reveal the details here, so you will have to ask me privately. Today was an overwhelming success, as I went to the Ragstock warehouse and Old Navy and came home with a cowboy shirt, some new cords to replace the holey ones, supercute workout pants, a black silk obi (I wanted it for the fabric, and it was $3; I’m not so into kimono-chic), one pair of jeans, two pairs of cargo pants in that superlight rayon (kind of like newfangled parachute pants3<\/a><\/sup><\/span>), and a black microfleece hoodie (which I intend to live in, because it’s that warm and comforting), all for about $100. So, basically, I win.<\/p>\n

<\/a>Then I came home, and I put on some of the new clothes, and I stood at the top of the stairs and called April’s name until she appeared, and then I shouted, “Tell me I’m cute!!!”, and she did as instructed, and then I proceeded downstairs, and jumped on her bed, in which she has managed to design, by means of a careful placement of the bed and many many pillows, the most inviting and comforting warm nest a person could ever hope for, and by this I mean that you should be so lucky to be invited into it, and then she modeled clothes for her date tonight, and I provided my very expert opinion about the outfits, and then we played Girl Talk<\/i> and ate popcorn and giggled4<\/a><\/sup><\/span>.<\/p>\n

I’m lying about that last part.<\/p>\n

After that, I did something that I can’t tell you about yet, because I’m surprising Heather with it tonight. However, there are two things I’m to say about it anyway:<\/p>\n

    \n
  1. This is very indicative of what having an online journal does to you over a long period of time: the main reason I’m not posting the pictures here is that Bertine hasn’t emailed them to me yet.\n

    \n

  2. While we were there, I said to the piercing guy, “A couple guys have told me that the nipples were the most painful.” He said, “Yeah, but they’re guys. It won’t be that bad for you.” I was confused; were they actually more sensitive than us? He answered, “No, they just can’t take the pain like women can.” Ha!<\/ol>\n

    Now pretend like you don’t know.<\/p>\n

    Jenni<\/p>\n

    \n

    <\/a>1<\/a><\/sup> ‘Why do you wear that stupid man-suit?’ is one of the best lines from a movie, ever. Also, the song at the end: ‘And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad\/That the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.’ Argh.<\/p>\n

    <\/a>2<\/a><\/sup> Which reminds me of a story: Last Saturday at grandma’s<\/a>, after the four kids (Dude, Dude, Dude, and Dude) had littered the house with shreds of wrapping paper and discarded boxes, I walked into the living room to find almost the entire family crowded around the dining room table, listening to my mom. Just as I left the room, her topic registered: she was describing the underwear I had purchased earlier in the day, and considered quite a find. Granted, it is<\/i> really good underwear: they’re boy-briefs with a gathered elastic waistband, two buttons, and seams that make them look like little boxers. Oh, and I got some with the ‘Sugar Babies’ logo plastered across the ass, too. But my point is: my mom was telling the entire family about my underwear<\/i>. That’s just plain weird.<\/p>\n

    <\/a>3<\/a><\/sup> +5 points if this reminds you of “a small Velcro pocket in the parachute pants of your soul,” too. +1 point if you know where that’s from. -5 points if you’re now very annoyed at the number of quotes I’ve included in this ramblin’ post.<\/p>\n

    <\/a>4<\/a><\/sup> A note for girls only:<\/i> When you are shopping and you find those pants, the ones that are not just acceptable and affordable, but truly spectacular, despite the lighting the dressing room, which is specially-engineered to make you appear as the twisted, frightening ogre you sometimes suspect you are, it is your duty to not just wear them, but rock<\/i> them. 0wnz0r them. Shake it, and don’t be afraid to even break it. Because you deserve it, that’s why.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Dear Friends, This year, I’m declaring moral bankruptcy. I’ve been living the life for years, but I think it’s time to finally file the paperwork and raise my right hand. Be on the books, so to speak. It’s the right thing to do. If you have the opportunity to see Donnie Darko on a very …read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-651","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/so9qt-secrets","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/651","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=651"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/651\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=651"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=651"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=651"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}