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Wednesday, Apr. 10, 2002 / 7:08 p.m. ~You Know You've Got Problems When Eating From the Chinese Buffet is Just Going Through the Motions~ The "Everybody Loves Raymond" PMS episode is on, and it's good, I'm telling you, but I've seen it. Patricia Heaton's acting is AMAZING! Really. No, really. Where are the people who would agree with me on this? Members of the Academy, I ask you... Alright. Ever notice how sometimes it just hurts to type? What is that? As I was approaching home, my Chinese Buffet takeout on the seat beside me, I remembered the time I came home with Chinese Buffet takeout and began to eat said takeout and Norman threw up, I had to put down my food and clean up her vomit before I could finish eating. So, I was thinking about that, and I came home to find she, or someone, had already thrown up, a hairball, and I cleaned it up, ate my food (I even have leftovers, my eyes were vastly larger than my stomach!) and went in the bedroom to get a change of clothes (it's warm, shorts and tshirt... mmmmmmm.... comfy) and Norman, or someone, had thrown up her just eaten supper, on the Oriental rug (and why is it okay to call a rug Oriental, but no one besides blacks and old folks call Asian people Orientals anymore?), on the fringe part. Why on the fringe, Norm? Really. 'tweren't easy to clean up either. Not too difficult, not too grody, just freshly masticated Science Diet, and why the HELL am I spending all this money on this special hairball formula food if she's still going to get hairballs? I mean, it's Petromalt, it's Vaseline, it's brushing, and her hair isn't even THAT long. Sheesh. On the fringe, man. Yeah, so, the grub was good, but I was thinking, as I keep doing, thinking, that nothing turns me on anymore. Even my Garlic Pepper tofu, etc., from my favorite Thai restaurant the other day didn't do much for me. It was okay, I ate it, it was even good, I guess, but I feel like I'd like to drink water and eat fresh fruit and leaves or something, for a while. Maybe I need a colonic....! Egad! I don't think so, I've never had my colon cleaned, irrigated, or whatever, and I won't start now, but I may increase my water intake and try to eat something raw and fresh and fruity or vegetabley in the near future. Or maybe just a fast will do. Maybe it's beause the weather is turning warmer, or maybe it's just that throughout the past four years or so I've lost a lot of my zeal, or zest, or whatever, my joie de vivre. Or perhaps I do have an eating disorder after all, or maybe (we'll use "perhaps" some of the time, "maybe" some of the other of the time) I just think procuring food is a huge hassle and I'd rather not be bothered with having to eat at all. And this is really weird considering I'm somewhat of a "foodie". Somewhat of a "connoisseur". I hope I spelled that right. Yes, I have dictionaries, several, and I looked it up, and it is right, so there. So, I've eaten, and I just remembered I already updated once today, so I don't even need to be here documenting the fact that I have eaten and Norma, or someone, threw up (I didn't actually see it, so it could've been G., but she is acting like it wasn't she at all, so I'm guessing, very educatedly, that it was Norm), and I'm sitting here now thinking about the Middle East and the trip to Washington, and still trying to decide if I'm going, and when I'll let Dianne know, and should I vacuum now or wait another day or two or three. I was also thinking about the time when I cooked, when I had this pile of money invested, and I quit my job, on principle (long story), and I didn't work, for like two years, or not even "like" two years, but for two years, and I slept late, and stayed up late, and I wrote, a lot, and watched absurd (even more so than now) amounts of TV, and was in love, and grew houseplants, lots of them, cared for them, and everything else, cleaned, cooked, shopped, went to a lot of movies, even traveled a bit...... And I guess I wish I could do that again. Working for the man just sucks. It does. Working for one's self might not suck so much, but doing what I do every day, well, I think we've already established that I hate it, so much so that I've stopped talking about the fact that I hate it, so much, and it sucks the life from me. My hair is turning gray, and we can blame that on the job, not me ageing, because before I took this job everyone thought I was very young, like VERY young, I got carded a lot (I must've gone out drinking a lot), and when I told people my age they almost had heart attacks. Not that I ever had to perform CPR or anything, which is good because I'm not sure I could, I mean I've seen it done on TV, like everything else in life (what's that Peter Sellers movie??? "Being There"), but yeah, now when I say my age I wait for that moment, I let the beat skip all on its own, but blank eyes stare back at me. "Mmm hmmm" they seem to say. "Yes, so you are. What's your point?" I don't even know. I'm not happy. Duh. I want to not work. How can I arrange that? I would really like to win the Big Game, but so would every other schmoe (does schmoe have an "e" on the end?) in the seven states (it is seven, right?) that have it, and the people in all the bordering states that cross the state lines so they can play too. But it could be mine, right? Er.... Alright, I'm fucking babbling. I'm going to read Moby's updates now..... mmmmmm....... Moby...... I love you, Moby! I do. And my Diaryland favorites (and Mark is going to have his own diary soon! Yea, Mark!!!), and then I'm going to watch another of the BEST TV SHOWS EVER, "Amazing Race". And as I watch it I'll think that, "This is one of the BEST TV SHOWS EVER", and in that moment, at least, I will be happy. (The TV guy in Entertainment Weekly, Dalton Ross, thinks so too, here's what he wrote about tonight's episode: The Amazing Race 2 (CBS) Or: Dalton's Favorite Hour of the Week. (I lead a simple life.) Tonight's ep promises "two teams come to blows." Once again, 'Dalton's Favorite Hour of the Week', ladies and gentlemen.) Cost of the War in Iraq
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