Friday, Sept. 27, 2002 / 6:57 p.m.

~Getting Off Crank With Help From the 'New Boy'~

I'm getting some pretty funny Google hits lately. I honestly think I'm being fucked with, especially now that I know I have in fact been fucked with lately. I don't trust anyone or anything. And I think that's a good way to live actually, no, really I do.

Today was crazy at work, just crazy. We found out our toll free line has been changed all to hell. Of course it's not 'ours', not technically, not figuratively, not any way at all, but we like to think it is. It is the number the employees call when they want to do anything, and they always end up talking to us, and that's wrong, and we tell them so. "You are SO wrong, buddy, [or "guy", as I now like to call everyone], you have the WRONG number, I cannot help you, and if I could, I wouldn't, so get off my line.", you know, stuff like that.

I came in to the sound of the new 'menu' being played on Laverne's speaker phone. I called it myself, once at my desk. I was listening to the options when I said, "Wow", because it's voice activated, and, well, "Wow", and it stopped, the voice said, "Um, whatever you just said, I missed it", which is not verbatim, but close to it.

I tried it again later and she says, "I'm sorry, I didn't get that", then if you fuck it up again she says, "Hmmmm.... I still didn't get it". It's very funny. I think she's supposed to be like that CGI character in the Al Pacino movie, "Simone" or whoever, or like that digital creation that reads the news, Anna whatever. Clever. Unh huh.

We thought we'd be suddenly obsolete. No need for real people, or us either. And the calls were slow, few, far between even. Hah! After 11:00 they started, and we were slammed. One question after another, all so fucking complicated to explain. Too much, all of it. I hadn't eaten a thing, which is typical really, and it hit me. I was hungry, I was tired, I didn't get enough good sleep, it was hard, it was heavy sleep, too much to dream and I don't even remember any of it.

I got cranky. Bad cranky. On crank, cranky. But without the actual crank. You know, the heroin. Heroin=crank. Anyway... Oh no, is it meth? Do I have it wrong? It's heroin, right? Heroin is the one drug I never tried. Wait, that's not right, I never tried meth. I never ate mushrooms. Nor peyote. Almost, but not quite. Okay, there are a LOT of drugs I've never tried.

Jesus, can't I just write about my stupid day? That reminds me, Listerine asked me if I eat cornbread and I went off about the time I made my own cornbread from scratch (well, I didn't grind the corn, but you know) for a reall good stuffing recipe I have, but it didn't rise right. And then I started in on baking powder, and how I hardly ever bake, so my raw materials, my base ingredients are old and that's why it didn't rise, the baking powder was old. Or did I go buy more first? And then I tell her all about this recipe and how amazingly good it is, this Turkey stuffing recipe that calls for whole wheat bread, white bread, cornbread, sausage, sage, celery, chicken broth, chopped apples, etc., etc., parsley I think. The last time I made it I almost ate it all before I baked it!

But she had only asked if I like cornbread.

I went home (came home?) and ate lunch, a chicken salad sandwich, same as yesterday, made with Publix's declicious "Savory Chicken Salad" with almonds and tarragon, big chunks of chicken, chicken salad, and I thought I'd be cured. I'd have food in me, energy, fuel, I'd be ready to tackle the second half of the day....

No, I wanted to kill people. I was so angry I wanted to scream at everyone. It was bad. Like, really bad. I couldn't figure it out. I had to call Mark back and tell him, "NO, the vittles weren't the cure! They made it worse!!"

Strangely enough, the 'new boy' was tuned in. He caught it. He even asked! Do you know how odd that is? Toward the end of the day he gave me one of these: "Pssst! Pssssssst! _______, what's wrong? Hey, what's wrong? You've been weird since you came back from lunch, what happened, did something happen? It's like you're really angry or something.", and he is fucking psychic. No one there has ever understood me before, they all simply avoid me when I'm like that. Wow.

I told him I ate lunch and I got really tired and cranky and I didn't want to be there and I couldn't explain it and it was horrible and what could I do?

He didn't know, but I went for a PowerAde and Almond Joy from the vending machines. I listened to Vivaldi and closed my eyes. Mandolin concertos. It was rough, but I'm home now.

He asked me which was more valuable, reading my magazine or talking to him, and I said it was a tossup, but I talked to him. Told him the importance of reading my Entertainment Weeklys, as I have the subscription, don't you know, and I am a week behind, and I want to read the current issue about Stephen King deciding to stop pumping out the novels, and get on to the new issue which would be in my mailbox today (and it was), and then we got into a huge discussion of Stephen King novels, and he couldn't remember the title of one, so I called a bookstore and asked them and they, well, the Fiction person, knew right away.

The 'new boy''s girlfriend comes over all the time, to our department, in the guise of having something crucial to tell him, but I think it's to check up on him. She is very pretty, and insecure. She uses our copier now, looks his way, looks my way. She seldom makes eye contact with me, so I try harder to look at her when I talk. She is very young.

He told us today that she likes to get 'freaky', wants to have sex all over the place, and as soon as he said it she walked over. I told her we were just talking about her. Unh huh. If he's gonna spill the beans about her sexual preferences I'm going to tell her. Women have to stick together, or, no, that's not it, I just don't think he's being very nice to her. I think they're a bit odd as a couple. That's what I think. I think a lot of things, but I can't possibly write it all here, now.

In fact, here's a sign I'm still really irritable without reason, I just had to get up and put on shorts, boxers really, because I'm too fucking hot, and I had to pull my hair off my neck, up and away, because I could not STAND the feel of it on my neck. I saw litter on the floor in the bathroom and almost freaked out thinking for the briefest moment of what a mess this place is, all the cleaning I need to do, how hot and humid it is inside even though I have the a/c set to 78 or something, and normally it's set to 80, but I can't open the windows because it's too humid and rainy outside. It just keeps raining or misting on and off. Blech.

It's so hard to be me. It really is. I just want to relax. I should smoke marijuana. I should. But I doubt I will. Um, we'll see.

Anyway, I like the 'new boy'. He's a puzzle. I could write a biographical essay about him, I think. I'm compiling data in my head. I know he likes me too, and really it's just a person thing, it's a connection thing. We have a rapport. I respect that he lives with his girlfriend. I do. And I don't want to sleep with him, or fuck him, or marry him, he's just a guy, but I get along better with men than with women. I like that he's there. Someone to talk to, someone who gets my references, and he's smart, really smart, high IQ smart.

He'll probably not work there long. I'm not suppposed to enjoy being at that place. It's a penance. Not a pleasure.

I was going to see "The Last Kiss", and I can't remember the actual Italian title, but this is opening night in town and I'd rather skip the 'date night' atmosphere, stay in tonight and maybe go tomorrow at a matinee. Cheaper, better and smaller crowd. But I'm dying to see it. I love Italian movies, the Italian language (I studied it in college), Italian people..... Italian men.... and this movie is about a group of men friends, sort of "Diner"ish, so I read. Should be good.

I guess I'm off now, no diaries to read, no one's updating. I've already read Moby's journal, which is very good lately, by the way, and I recommend it to anyone reading this, just go to Moby.com and click on the main picture, then on the menu on the left click on Moby's Journal. Duh. I love his journal. I love him. It's true. I've said it before, it's no lie.

Oh, I think I'll look to see what movies are on the cable tonight. Let me go look now so I can write if it's anything really good.....

Okay, there's this thing about me, I don't know what it is, or how it works, or why, but if I'm talking to someone about a movie it will invariably turn up on TV, either that night, or the next, or maybe a day or two later, but it will. The 'new boy' and I were talking about Stephen King movies, or his books made into movies, and we were talking about "Cujo", others too, but yeah, "Cujo". Well, go ahead and guess what's coming on cable? Right. And at 9:00 is Audrey Tautou (Googlers, go crazy with that!) in "Happenstance". I see a bowl of popcorn in my future. And a sofa, and cats trying to sit on me. Good TV night, good, good, good. I love my cable. Wouldn't trade it for DSL, no I would not. I'll keep the 56K modem connecting at 26400bps, that's better than what I used to have.

Everything could be worse. I'll do some cleaning tomorrow. And go see "The Last Kiss", and maybe take myself out to eat. Sounds like a plan, one that will no doubt be broken, but still, there's the odd chance I'll do what I say.

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