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Thursday, Aug. 29, 2002 / 11:44 a.m. ~GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!~ Ack, I missed a day. I was going to write last night, just before midnight, squeeze in a quick entry, but the Great Diaryland Server Switch of 2002 was going on and I couldn�t access the Members Area. Such is life. I still have indigestion from my Thai takeout last night. It�s never affected me quite like this before. So I�m left wondering, was it the rice? Did I eat too fast? Swallow too much air? Isn�t it weird how gas and indigestion can make you feel like you need to crack your back, but you can�t? I feel like I have a demon inside me. Which makes me think of the Red Hot Chili Peppers song with the line, �I�ve got demons in my semen� (oh, excuse me, but it's actually "There's a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen" - sorry about that), which makes me think of the �penis book� I�m reading and how I actually opened it to read it yesterday at work, for the first time in a week or so, and I wondered why I�ve not been reading it because it�s awful fascinating and good. Lulu has her radio on, tuned to some station playing that Kenny G lite jazz crap and I want to scream as I hear it trickle over to me. Oh, it is so very horrible. Right now I am filled with frustration and anger, every little thing is making want to break something. I feel I�m teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Yesterday at work I had what I believe was a migraine headache. I was disabled, the light from my computer monitor hurt my eyes, every sound was too loud, I felt nauseous, I sat here in the cube for my break, leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, waited for it to away. Eating lunch helped. I can�t do this right now. I feel like I have a fever. There is fire behind my eyes. It�s a strain to push down on the keys to type. Classical music is filling my ears, but I still hear them behind me, around me, the women who can�t stop talking, snacking, gossiping, they make me sick with their constant constant. It never stops. Minutes later� Listerine is doing her humming thing again. It�s been so long, I can only wonder what�s brought it back. I�m picking up their lingo, their slang. I get on the phone with friends and I hear myself saying, �You know?� in that rhetorical questioning sense. I just flashed on the zoo. I wonder why. For a moment I saw myself walking amongst the animals there, on the paved trails through the trees. Just for a moment. Am I sick? I�m hot, I�m cold. I can�t clear my throat for days, it feels constricted, like it�s growing together, like it�s a vagina gone through that horrible reconstruction laser surgery they advertise in the free weekly. Said free weekly is open beside me, but I wanted to write an entry for my diary, but, but, but I can�t seem to write anything I have wanted to. Shall I try harder? The one I call Listerine, formerly known in this diary as Linda, has amazed me lately. Friday I was listening to �Animal Rights� and paused to show the gals Moby�s little drawing/autograph on the liner notes, to tell them ever so briefly, there at the end of the day/week, about meeting him, and Listerine asked what his music sounds like. Hmmmm, how to answer. Which Moby? Punk Moby? Angsty Moby? Rave Moby? Techno/House Moby? Piano tinkly Moby? Penelope, may I use your CD player to illustrate the Moby? Oh yes. I played for them, one Penelope, one Lulu and one Listerine, the delightful �The Rain Falls and the Sky Shudders�, one of my most favoritest Mo tunes. Oh, their eyes lit up, they loved, loved it, most especially Listerine. Loved it. We played the dance-y �Morning Dove�, she liked it, Hey Mikey, she liked it! She was ready to run out and buy a copy of �Play� at the used record store around the corner, and when I asked Monday she said she�d gone to look for it, but they didn�t have it. I had told her of the pizza restaurant that delivers pizzas to my door, and salads, and how much I like their pizza, their salads, how fast their delivery is, and I brought her some coupons, a little menu, just to further illustrate my point. She called, spoke to the Manager there, asked directions, and she went. Monday. For the Buffet. With a co-worker. She told me about it in the most enthusiastic recounting I have ever heard in my life. I thought she was going to have an orgasm in her chair. Or maybe she WAS having an orgasm. �OH, IT WAS SO, SO, GOOD, OH, MY IT WAS SO GOOD, THEY WERE SO NICE AND IT WAS SO CLEAN AND THEY HAD FIVE KINDS OF PIZZA AND IT WAS SO SO GOOD, AND, AND, AND�� it went on. I think she really liked it. And I realized I love to please her. Because she is so very appreciative. I am ridiculously generous towards people who appreciate the generosity. Why Listerine? I�ve hated her with such passion. So I bring her coupons? Because she loves the coupons. I brought her some for her favorite cafeteria restaurant, yesterday, so she went at lunch, used her coupons, brought me back strawberry shortcake with the �free dessert� coupon. And when I told Lulu that it was once believed �that the eating of watermelon caused unnatural excitement of the penis� and that masturbation was thought to be much worse than is thought today, etc., and yada yada, reading from the �penis book� (A Mind of Its Own � A Cultural History of the Penis), Listerine perked up and wanted to know what I�d said, wanted to know about the book, agreed that history is so fascinating and how she�d like to read said book too. She likes Moby? She brings me strawberry shortcake? She wants to read the �penis book�? What the hell is going on? In other news, tonight is the last film in the Summer Film Series at the Fabulous FOX Theatre, the Star Wars clone thing. I�m really not interested in going, but JimmyUsual and I have plans to attend. I�ve got my VCR set to tape Eviction Night on �Big Brother 3�, but it malfunctions so often I am really worried I�ll miss it. I�d rather stay home. I hate plans. Cost of the War in Iraq
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