Wednesday, Dec. 04, 2002 / 8:08 p.m.

~Just Let Your Beard Grow~

Right, so you know that feeling like your tampon has absorbed all it can possibly absorb and it's overflowing, but you rationalize and tell yourself it can't possibly be time to change it again because you just did, um, four hours ago, but really you have eight hours before you have to start worrying about toxic shock syndrome, and wasn't your heavy day yesterday anyway, but you go to pee and to check only to find that you've leaked all over your underwear, I mean beyond your pantiliner? I guess that's why some have 'wings'. Mine don't. No wings here. Not much damage done, but you know, still.

What?! Is there a problem with the above paragraph? Jesus, YOU try being a woman, it's not easy.

Again, right, so it's cold out, and it's raining, and there's going to be some huge ice storm and we'll all go to a 'key party' and Sigourney Weaver will be there, and Kevin Kline, and maybe Joan Allen, and personally I don't want to go home with any of them, but maybe if we catch Elijah Wood early this time, just as he's still bouncing up and down on the diving board, we can stop the electrocution before it starts.

Nothing I'm saying is making sense to anyone, and that's typical. Shave twice while reading one entry? Aw, come on, you skim anyway, what are you talking about?

I promised myself I wouldn't write about work anymore. Not here. Why did I do that? Was it because of that one person who was reading me, writing to me, all the time, not Caroline, I like Caroline, Caroline is the best, I want to meet you one day, Caroline, and not that you'd like me, I think I'd like you, you might think my teeth are too big, I don't know, but it's not you, it was someone else. She made me very self conscious, like I couldn't say what I wanted, like she had something to say about everything I wrote, some comment, some advice to give, unsolicited, always, and now she's gone, she took me off her list, and that's fine, but I feel I made a small commitment to myself here, that I couldn't be like I was, as free, as open, as honest, not about my job.

I was dead set on leaving, I was dead set in the middle of horrendous PMS, really bad, crying at work PMS, and I was going to walk out, to storm out, but only after, AFTER I found another job.

Do you think I found another job? Did you think I'd look? Puhleeze. Uh, no. But things are changing by leaps and bounds there. D., the Supervisor, is off to Japan, soon, she leaves us on Friday, and someone new is taking over.

The 'new girl', the temp, is long gone, they finally fired her, the 'new boy' is 'perm' now. And yes, I saw part of "Haiku Tunnel", but I fell asleep, dammit. I cannot stay awake to watch an entire movie in bed. I'm old, I fall asleep without warning. Okay, there's warning, but I can't stay awake anymore.

Perm. The 'new boy' could now be called 'perm boy'. And we have another, another temp, another white boy. Two white boys! Freakish. 'Perm boy' told me first thing, like FIRST thing today. "Did you see the new temp? It's a GUY! And he's a WHITE guy! I'm not alone now!!!", first thing, whispering, up close as I was setting my pack down, logging on, first thing.

And it's cold, but it won't ice.

I remember last year, or it was the year before maybe (old, remember?), waking to the sounds of cracking, snapping, popping, or is it snapping, crackling, popping? Not cereal either, it was trees, tree branches breaking, whole trees snapping in half. It kept happening and I kept sleeping, but I'd wake up wondering, what the fuck?

Ice storm.

It could happen, but I doubt it. North of here, yes, and I'm not in North Carolina, you don't know where I am. Or maybe you do, the one who says he knows. I'm South. In the foothills, the foothills of the foothills. We miss all the good stuff, it is always just north.

I could use a massage. I'm sore, I'm tired, I'm, er, bleeding heavily. It's natural, no emergency room needed.

N and G missed me terribly, and I them. At lunch I came home and they were so confused, running to their food bowls, thinking it was time to eat, or time to this, or that, not knowing what time it was. And I didn't get online, nothing was as usual, I watched the Weather Channel instead. Eating my Hot Ham 'N Cheese, my small fries that were so big I had to throw some away.

I want small fries. Why do they insist on packing them to overflowing? Is there no 'small' anymore?

Salmon Ceasar Salad from the Farmer's Market for dinner. And maybe Curry Chicken Salad, but I'm not sure. The cashier didn't charge me for it, and as it was happening I was trying to figure out what to do. Do I tell her, "Hey, you forgot to charge me for the exorbitantly priced curry chicken salad!", or do I watch her put it in the bag and notice that she didn't ring it? Ummmmmmmm.

"Felicity" is in Season 3 now. First episode, Felicity finds the cutest little (hell hole) apartment to share with Ben, and Ben agrees, because he can't refuse her. Oy vey. Me, telling Arthur I could just move there, to live with him in College Town! Wouldn't it be great?! Um, sure, okay, yeah.

Fight, argue, fight, sex, sex, drugs, fight, argue, fight, sex, drugs. Wheeeee!

Been there. Oh, wait, Felicity doesn't take drugs. Well, what can I say? They weren't MINE. HE was the drug abuser. I just played along, when I was in the mood. And when I wasn't, it was, "Gah, do you always have to be shoving white powder up your nose?! Must you shake your leg every time you get stoned? Here, have some fucking bongo drums. Hey, look, I'm damned good at playing your bongo drums, I should join a band, do you have any more pot?"

Ah yes, college. Shouldn't have dropped out, I know.

And how about that guy who asked me why I never went to college when I told him I didn't have a degree. Was that logical? Does it make sense that because I have no degree I never went? Three years, buddy, three years. See how educated I am? You think this is all natural? Hell no, it's book smarts, a lot of it. Professorial tutelage, or something.

Hell yes, I ramble, it's my fucking diary. Remember when the name of this page was "WhatTheFuckRULookingAt"??? Oh man, I've been saucier, sassier.

I'm thinking free curry chicken salad, or maybe Cajun Crawfish Fritter, and I had the hardest time saying it, try it, Crawfish Fritter. G'head, out loud, try it, Crawfish Fritter. More than once, twice maybe. It's not as easy as it looks.

"Amazing Race" is TWO hours tonight, so I'm killing time 'til it starts at 9:00. I should be washing dishes. I'm exhausted. They rearranged everything today, they closed off our department, it's bizarre. Then the phones went down, from 2:00 to 5:00. And I'm processing mail now, for the next month. I think the last time was September of '01? That's what I was doing when the WTC was hit, listening to morning radio, processing our mail.....

If only I can make it to 9:00, and if only I can watch sitting up, semi-vertical, not lean over in spite of all temptation to grab a pillow and recline. For I will surely lose consciousness.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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