Monday, Sept. 09, 2002 / 9:39 p.m.

~No Entertainment Value Here~

I've been sitting here recapping the "Big Brother 3" live feeds for the past hour or so. I am still listening and I feel like I should be writing that Amy feels used, instead of trying to make an entry out of my day.

Work sucked ass big time today, and I can't even get into it except to say that I am 16 years older than D., the Supervisor, and around 10 years older than the Manager (M) of our department, and they are not real bright, not especially good at their jobs, although M is primo at the bullshitting portion, and today was frustrating, and anger inducing and I almost cried because I was so mad, and I knew, I KNEW it was because it's my period now, no more PMS, it's just getting under way.

Tomorrow should be heavy bleeding, or just before. I can anticipate the heavy cramps, the major tiredness, exhaustion even, and we have a new person coming in to take Lulu's place.

Turns out he is the boyfriend of a young woman working in another department, and she came over at the end of the day to find out what we do in our department. I asked if her boyfriend can type. I hope to hell I don't have to sit and train him tomorrow. I will lose it, I'm sure.

What immense fortitude I have. What patience. What sense and sensibility. I feel so mature. I know I don't seem that way, but who else could endure half the crap I have and keep going? Just keep on going, hating it every step of the way?

Non-work-related? Okay. I cooked my steak last night. Sauteed in olive oil and butter (I say when indulging in animal fat, cholesterol, why not go all out?!), with mushrooms, and asparagus cooked separately, in more of the same, olive oil and butter. Yeah, it was kinda greasy. And I used Tony Chachere's seasoning on the steak, a Cajun seasoning which is usually really good, but it seemed SO salty last night.

Overall, yes, my dinner was good, but I didn't have the energy to do the salad.

I watched the "Nature: Extraordinary Cats" show again, and I just love the part about Scarlet the wonder cat, the mother cat who went back into a burning building to rescure her FIVE kittens. Her whole face was burned beyond recognition, she lost parts of her ears, she was a mess, but she and her kittens were rescued by a firefighter on the scene and all lived happily ever after. I got all choked up watching. I'd say I started crying, but I can be really good at holding it in. Not that I should hold it in, but I did. I love that story though.

Especially the end footage of Scarlet all healed in her new home, all fat and happy, the firefighter coming to visit her, scritching her under her chin, rubbing those stubby ears. SO sweet.

What else? Oh, Tennis. I wanted Agassi to win, but somehow Sampras did. Sampras was so funny the way he would fire off these intensely powerful shots, and they would go all over the place! Too long, too wide, too far. Insane. And he fucking won anyway.

And between every shot they'd show either Steffi Graf (Agassi's wife) or Pete's wife. Aaarrrgh.

I'm Tabouli'd out. That recipe I posted here yesterday actually feeds like 8 people. So I ate two bowls yesterday (one while I was watching tennis because I actually wanted the steak, but didn't want to get up to cook because I'd miss the game), two bowls today. And I have one more bowl.

Hey, it's really really good, but this is another reason I don't cook much anymore, I am incapable of cooking for one. I cook for a crowd, but I am too selfish and antisocial to invite anyone over, so I eat the same thing for days. And after shopping for food I must eat everything before it rots, so I eat and eat and eat, and I am a little person.

Consequently, and with the menstruation thing, I am bloated and miserable. Whee!

Yeah, I wasn't going to write anything here at all today, but I wanted to squeeze something in, so there you have it. A real diary entry. This is my life, today.

Oh! I had a cool dream this morning. I was with some people at a cafe, I think, now details are hazy, but the gist is this, I was interested in a man, someone my age or older, and I was telling him that I couldn't wait to pass a Marlboro back and forth with him after the.... I was going to say 'first time', but he said '...second and third time' because he wanted us to be together too, more than once, several times. (you've seen it in movies, "Run Lola Run", etc., post-coital, sharing the cig... I know, I don't smoke, haven't since high school)

Next thing I know we're lying down kissing, tongues intertwined, and it gets pretty hot and heavy, but our mouths are cool, our spit swapping is just right, not too messy, not too hot, and I stop to tell him I am sorry for my breath (in reality I used a LOT of garlic in my cooking last night, I forgot to mention it above), but he doesn't mind at all. This always has great meaning. Trust me. When you think you stink or you look horrible or your breath smells like dirty socks and your lover thinks you smell like roses and look like a model and taste like caramel, well, it's really nice.

I woke up right after kissing him. Right after. Like, oh, hello, conscious mind, reality now. Time to get ready for work. Rather not. In the dream I'd been telling him I didn't want to go to work.... but at least I wasn't trying to get a billion trillion dollars out of him.

The Houseguests have been given a schedule of their remaining time in the house, and they are very excited, they see light at the end of the tunnel, they even started talking about what they'll do when they 'get out', as if they're getting out of prison. Amy simply wants to drive around in her car and listen to music! Can't blame her.

Oops, recapping there.

I give up. This day sucked, I think I may go to bed now. Or listen to the HGs talk about how tired they are, what movies they've seen, shuffling cards all the while.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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