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Monday, May. 06, 2002 / 11:29 p.m. ~Just Change the Battery, Babe~ I wrote a piss poor entry a little while ago and thought nothing of deleting it, of moving on, and now I'm thinking I write too much in this diary, but at the very same moment I think that I also think I do no such thing. Remind me one more time, it's my diary, I can do what I want to, I can write if I want to - to be sung to the tune of "It's My Party", by what's her name. I can't stand the feel of my glasses on the bridge of my nose. All day I flung them from my face. But then I couldn't see as well. It was a tradeoff. The strangest moment came when I said, aloud, unfortunately, "Is it still Monday?" because I really wasn't so sure. That's how long this day was. And look, it keeps going, like the now proverbial Energizer Bunny. Where is he now? Is he still going? And going? Does anyone know? Someone should keep us posted. Yes, it's still Monday, my glasses on my nose still make me want to scream, so why am I here? Why do I sit here and write? I took my glasses off. Everything is blurry, I can see, but it's harder. It's uncomfortable, but not as. Not as. I replaced the battery in my clitoral stimulator, and I tried to link to it here, to look up the exact model at xandria.com, but it's apparently no longer for sale, so that didn't work, it was going to be cool, you would've been surprised to click on that link and see it there, for sale, this thing. But JesusGod, and holy moly too, and any other exclamation of oh wow you can think of, it's insane. Absolutely insane. It's so quick, so easy, so intense, so through the roof intense, I just want to do it again and again, and I think of Nelson on the phone, Nelson saying, "I want to hear you do it again, yes, do it again, I want to hear you...", and I remember screaming, not holding back at all because, well, why? I'd think of my neighbor downstairs, become overly self-conscious, then I wouldn't care at all. Because in that moment I was with him, I was "with" Nelson, it's not like I was here alone..... well, I was, but I didn't feel I was. Now? No screaming. I am alone. But oh my god, seriously, women, go buy one now! Go to xandria.com, find another, a duplicate, a plastic/rubber/whatever it is, with a fast moving thing on the end and all you have to do is just touch it to your clitoris, you will freak out! Yes, you will. Of course, anyone reading this probably already has one. I got a Google hit for "Stan Lavendar" today. Who the hell? My previous entry contained details of the pasta I cooked for dinner tonight, because it was good, because it was awesome, because I cooked. Maybe tomorrow I'll recreate it. Not the pasta, the details. And know what? When you cook, if you do the dishes right after you're through eating you end up with a clean kitchen. It's amazing! I've been doing it, for like two days now, and the difference is substantial. Lovely, really. Tired. Irritable. I and my clitoral stimulator area going to bed very soon. I'm not kidding. It's the kind of thing you just want to keep doing. It's not wrong, it's not deranged, it's the joy of a fresh battery, of me saying, "Oh yeah, I forgot it was supposed to be this fast!". Man, fresh batteries, who knew? Cost of the War in Iraq
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