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Friday, Jan. 18, 2002 / 1:19 p.m. ~I Don't Care if it's God on the Radio, Turn it Down!~ How do you ask someone to turn down the volume on his radio when he's listening to a speech given by the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.? How? I listened to King's speeches on the radio when I was in college at the University of Georgia. I don't remember the occasion, but the local college radio station was playing them and I lay on the bed I shared with my boyfriend at the time, transfixed, lulled by the sound of King's voice, rocked by the cadence, inspired by the words. Of course, later, finding out he was a man like any other man, cheating on his wife, etc., made him a little less of a godhead, but still, the speeches are spectacular, even today. So, here at work, 9:35 a.m., Rasta has it on his radio, and because it's King, no, it's KING, he has it cranked. And how would I ask him to turn it down? Lulu is furiously typing. She's been a bundle of nervous energy lately, yesterday and today, conducting all sorts of business from her cube, one call after another, her sick, two-faced, syrupy, extra-polite high voice emanating from across the aisle, only feet from me: "Hiiiiiii, how are YEWwwwwwwwwww????!!!". Ick. How was I ever friendly with her? How did we ever have lunches together, share aspects of our private lives, talk at all? She is phoniness personified. I'm hot, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I've been unable to clear my throat for a few days, though right now it feels okay. I'm mostly just�blah. You know? You just want to drop your jaw, lower your eyelids and sort of moan? Or go lie down and not get back up. I feel like that. I was going to use my talking thermometer I got from Listerine the Avon Lady to check my temp this morning before I came to work, but I knew I wouldn't have a fever, I never do when I want to. Oh no, that's not right, I don't want to have a fever, I just want proof that my immune system is working overtime to battle something right now. What, I don't know, but there is a battle going on. So, Rasta's radio, yeah, well, um, I mentioned it to D yesterday, said, "Hey, maybe in your next little meeting with us, um, could you please mention that people might be mindful of the volume on their little radios? Like, well, see, there's this one person, and I've mentioned it already, a few times, asked this person to turn it down, and I don't want to anymore�so could you say something?", and she wanted to know whose radio, and I told her it was Rasta's, but I think she thinks I just want to get him into trouble, but really it's just that he chaps my ass. BIG TIME. And I don't want to talk to him, look at him, smell his cologne, hear his laugh as he chats with Laverne on the phone. Somehow, he now makes me sick. I'm weird, I know. It's people. I can't stand people sometimes, especially when I'm surrounded by them all day. Every day. Five days a week, 40 hours of my life every week. Blech. I don't care if it's God giving a speech on the radio, Jesus back from the dead, turn the fucker down, okay?! Last night's little "Survivor" recap was fun. Sort of a "where are they now?" kind of thing. And Ethan�oh, Ethan�he's sort of perfect. Sensitive, shy, incredibly handsome, great lips, hair, incredible eyes, great body, athletic, enthusiastic, smart, generous, giving, loving, caring, funny, and a millionaire. Oh wow. Do I inject another 'sigh' right about here? Or can you just know that I am sighing? I am. And "Temptation Island 2"! Whoa!!! Hey!!! Wow!!!!! God, I LOVE that show. I was watching last night, wondering why I like it, imagining myself having to explain to someone why I love it, and what I came up with was this: it's the vicarious thrill. It's vicariously living out this wild fantasy, this sexual fantasy situation, through these young, beautiful men and women. Pure and simple. It's watching them fall flat on their faces, or not, while I sit comfortably in my living room, on my futon sofa, couch potato me. Me, choosing to be alone, choosing to remember my sex life instead of continuing it, but watching them, on this fantasy island of a place, in fantastically beautiful Costa Rica, frolicking in waterfalls, on horseback on beaches, licking alcohol off each other's bodies, and sucking limes out of mouths. Making out with near-strangers, agonizing over conflicted lustful feelings and desires� Sigh� Yeah, it's a great show! Like the best ever. Perfect. When it's over I grumble. Damn! Why can't it just go on forever?! Yeah, a "Temptation Island" marathon. How fun would that be? Oh, the new "Real World" is fun along the same lines, but those kids are really, really young. On "TI2" they're older, 30somethings mostly, on "Real World" some are only 19. Maybe I'm losing interest. Plus, those kids are forced to live together, they can't pick and choose like on "TI2" What else? Oh yeah, Thursday is such a good TV night! "ER" was good. I hadn't watched it in a while, but it's not hard to catch up. The thing with the rapper who was screwing his buddy in the ass when he was frustrated with his girlfriend, and thereby contracted chlamydia AND HIV, was, well, gross. And the woman with the husband who beats the hell out of her, but well, she loves him, and so it's okay�also gross. Ah, Television. Art imitating life, life imitating art, escapism, entertainment, companionship. Fun. I actually ate sushi and pizza last night for dinner. Just California rolls and leftover cold pizza, and then Tabasco-flavored cheese popcorn (try it, it's NEW!). I have a great diet, yes? I often say that if I didn't pump my body full of vitamin supplements as I do, every single day, I'd die of malnutrition. But it would be a good life up until that death. I think I'm healthy�except for this feeling like I'm coming down with influenza�but if that's the case, it's because I'm surrounded by these people with no immune systems at all. No shit. The women here are sick like every other week. Is this a black thing? Are white people like this too?? No immunity to viruses? Hmmmm� The loud radio is really annoying, the sound of Lulu constantly in some private conversation on her phone, her little laugh, her phony voice, ergh. Yeah, ergh. It sounds like this, over the din of my fan�"Psss, pss, psss, psss, psss, giggle, pss, pssssss, psssss"�But, tomorrow and the next day I'll be on my own, and I can't wait. A whole two days away from here. A weekend. Gee. Oh no, I just noticed Lulu going over to Laverne to chat about something. How is this possible? Lulu tells me she is afraid Laverne and Rasta are having an affair, then she goes to Laverne and tells her I am after her, we have a blowout, Lulu and I no longer look at each other, but she is palsy with Laverne? Lulu? The lying, manipulative, two-faced bitch???? Ms. Phoniness Personified???? How do these things happen??? Omigod, I want to throw up. Then, Listerine comes by with this little flyer she wrote up, "Pound Cake and Ice Cream - vanilla, for Dr. King Birthday". There's a smiley face at the bottom, and the time, 3:15, on her break, and today's date. She set it on my desk, said she'd give it to me anyway, even though she knows I may not participate. I immediately thought it's because I'm white. Oh wow. Am I sensitive or what? Or what? I even said that. "What do you mean by that? Because I'm white?", and she says it's because she knows I don't eat junk. If she only knew what I ate for dinner last night! She says she knows I don't eat chocolate, etc., but I said, "Actually, I'm omnivorous. I eat anything, I don't deny myself any food, it's just that sometimes I'm not in the mood for certain things, sometimes I don't want chocolate, etc.". Ergh. Ergh again. Yeah, I need to get out of here, I know, I know, I know. Oops, we have some paperwork to do, so I'm gonna end this for now� Cost of the War in Iraq
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