September 2008
37 posts
“Hey! You’re a spy, Spy! Hey you! You’re a spy! I’ll see you in hell.”
—some Shining-esque seven year old for two straight hours. Near the end of the night as I was packing up the equipment on the floor I noticed him inching closer and closer, not saying a word. By the time I’d finished he was a foot away, just staring. Maybe it was because we were the only white people? That’s racist.
“My nephew is misbehaving tonight. He’s the one with a mohawk. The one who’s Chinese. And you… your breasts………. no. I’m going to be a gentleman and not comment on your breasts. I’m going to go up to my room for a while.”
—Nothing says drunken success like oogling the body parts of someone obscenely age inappropriate.
By complete chance the new photographer I’m working with tomorrow is someone I know. He walked me to school on my first day of kindergarten but we haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I’m always so thrown off by small world shit like this.
I semi-accidentally joined a police escorted funeral procession this morning and got exactly where I needed to go in half the time.
“I hope that you don’t think that just because Stella got eliminated that she’s out of your life. Because you better be damn sure that you don’t run into me on a dark street because I …and Stella are going to cut you up and put you in a dumpster and then you’ll feel bad that you ever, EVER judged her the way that you did. So unjust and so unruly, I can’t believe you sometimes. This is why it’ll never work out between you and me, I think.”
—Cameron in a voicemail I just rediscovered. This was the night that Stella got auf’d on Project Runway and also the night he broke our faux-engagement on Facebook. This also ended up being a little foreshadowy because in the following episode, Stella was brought back to wreak more havoc on my retinas.
“‘Kids are like rats, they carry diseases,’ something he said on our third date. I thought it was so… sweet.”
—Julie Delpy, 2 Days in Paris
