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2001-12-10 / 11:07 p.m. ~A Regular Diary Entry~ I almost forgot to write about today. Silly me. I left work on Friday at 3:30 due to "system problems". Things are still horribly fucked at work. Whether we need new servers, new programs, new programmers, new IS staff, or what, I don't know, but it's bad when a call center's phone lines are not operational. Bad. So this morning, rainy and cold, Monday, nothing had changed. The phones were down, the computer program up, then down, then up again, control + alt + delete, end task, log on, log off, repeat. Lather. Rinse. La dee da. So, we chatted, in between a document processed here and there. And my hair, freshly washed and combed, dried in ringlets. I wanted to show Lulu, but she was nowhere to be found, so I showed Rasta. I'm like a kid sometimes, okay, a lot, and I like to say, "Look at my hair! Look! It's naturally curly", like that little girl in the Peanuts strip. And Rasta is appropriately pleased, even reaches to touch a ringlet, asks how this happens, and I say, "Well, you see, I wash it, comb it and let it dry. It just does it, naturally.", and we both agree that it would be cool if it did it uniformly, but it's only in places, at the lower portion, not at the top, not all over, not like a white person's "perm". I put a Site Meter on the guestbook and went wild with it! Major biting sarcasm at play, and it is play. I'm no longer upset, I no longer cringe when I see I have email indicating a new signee to the book. The diaryguestbook of hatred and love. Diaruestbook. It's not just a guestbook, it's a diary! Or something. I'm beyond punchy now. I couldn't write an appropiate email letter to Jay, I still can't write, but there were a couple points I had to make. I am going to write about my brother soon, and why he is out of my life, though he is still alive, and why Roadiepig feels more like a brother than my brother ever did....and this makes me just a bit sad. I wish I had a brother, and a sister too, and at one time....I had both. Moving right along. So, it's winter-like here today, cold, rainy, and I had lights out on various locations on my vehicle, a headlight, a taillight, a parking light. And my rear wiper was disintegrated. Lulu recommended the place across the street from where we work, Advance Auto Parts, said they have everything and they'll put it on for you. And there we were, at the end of the day, Rasta made to leave 'cause he's still a temp, the rest of us leaving early, in increments, just P. (now known as Penelope, not her real name), Lulu and me, all discussing auto mechanics. Changing tires, changing oil, where to get parts, etc. It was great. Finally, a departure from food/sex/hair/shoes. Finally. I went across the street, and I'd left early, at 5:00, it was dark already, dark with rain, and I stood outside holding an umbrella over the manager of the store, whilst he replaced my headlight, my taillight, my parking light, and my wipers, all three of them. It was colder and colder, wetter and wetter, and he only charged me for the parts. Man. I wanted his card, he said he's new, but he was the nicest man ever. I couldn't believe the service, and he was so incredibly humble. It would most likely embarrass him if I were to write a thank you letter, but I'm tempted. Home, online, two bowls of mixed vegetables, frozen, heated, butter, salt, pepper. One day I will shop and cook, again, I promise myself. I am a gourmet cook, I can do it. I can eat real food, and I will again! I hear a triumphant swell of music as I write those words. Now, I give up for this night. I've been online all night! Okay, so there wasn't much on TV, and I'm tired, and well, I wanted to be here. No regrets. When my Netscape crashes I hear HAL, from "2001: A Space Odyssey" say, "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that". It's a .wav file. I got my pictures back today. Images of the demo at CNN, and I showed them all around, except to Listerine, and V. (haven't chosen her nickname yet). "Hey, Rasta, look at my pics - that's the demo outside CNN, that's the guy being pushed to the ground by the cops before they arrested him!", and the pics of the cats, which Rasta skimmed, and pics at Lilly's birthday party. And I called her "spoiled", "a brat", and "an only child". Cost of the War in Iraq
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