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Tuesday, Apr. 09, 2002 / 7:04 p.m. ~This Could Be Fun~ Mark found my diary. "And how does this make you feel?" Well, um, uh, I'm glad. He's always been a good audience, receptive, appreciative, flattering, complimentary, in all the right amounts, in every category. It could be worse. I wrote some things here, some very real feelings, about him, and that could have been hard, hurtful, but perhaps it's not, perhaps he's okay, he says he is. Oh yeah, I caught him. Too funny really. He did a little search on Google, it didn't take much: "Gladys" "Thrashers" "Journal". Me. So easy. I knew I should've used fake names for the girls. I could've used Vertamae and Obedella, but noooo, I had to use their real names. Oh well. Why Vertamae and Obedella? Oh, long story, but suffice to say I really dig "Appalachian" names, hence my chosen Diary name: Joleen. Today I verified employment for someone named: Verline Laverne. Her last name was unrelated, no Hatfield nor McCoy, something innocuous, like: Cook. But I've been saying it all day, "Verline Laverne, you git in here, rat nah!" "Verline Laverne, yer vittles is gittin cold!" "Verline Laverne, go git me a switch so I can whip your butt!"�, well, you get the idea. I'm exhausted, like sleep deprived, like I could sit here in my little cubicle at work and play with my balloon leftover from my birthday last week, and be highly entertained for several minutes, at least. I'm never staying up late to watch Nicole Kidman get naked again! (well, maybe, you know how it is) Speaking of TV�tonight's the night, THE best night in television. You have your "Gilmore Girls" at 8:00, and tonight promises to be a new episode, hopefully involving the young and totally delectable Jess, played by the handsome and young Milo Ventimiglia (now I'll get Google hits for him!)� mmmmmm� yes, I know he's young, I'm sorry, I have blood flowing through my veins, I can't help it, and have you seen his forearms? And "24", which requires the greatest effort on the part of suspension of one's disbelief. Believe it, it's only TV. Fun, fun, fun. And then, "Real World - Chicago" - will he or won't he sleep with her? Will we get to see boys with boys? Girls with girls? Or something else? And then, and then, and then, the hardest choice for the progressive TV viewer: "A Cook's Tour" or "The Osbournes"? Well, they're both repeated on Saturdays, so YOU choose. Ah yes, it's all about choices. The downfall of our society, too many choices, but for a TV whore, er, junkie, it's a good thing. And no, Sharon, you don't have a "Scro-Tum". But I love to hear you say it! I'll watch "A Cook's Tour" and catch "The Osbournes" on Saturday, as is my current pattern. I think I may need caffeine between now and all that though. It's currently 4:05 p.m., cubicle time. The challenge is to stay awake, not yawn too loudly, not fall out of my chair when I stretch, and not fall asleep, under any circumstances. Then, a Big Game quick pick, or five, and some sugar (how the hell did I run out of sugar?), milk, juice, etc. at Publix. Meat Market Central after work. Grrrrr� Did I mention that I did not go see Michael Moore at Borders yesterday? Did I mention that I Diary Surfed instead? That I left my PC logged on to the interweb all night? That I watched TV and read diaries, and ate popcorn, and tried not to mourn the spilled milk that was my not taping "Guiding Light"? Oh yeah, there I was, right there, and I thought I had it all set to tape, like I do every single weekday, but no, but NOOOOOO, I fucked up, forgot to push in the "timer" button, or something, and I was so pissed at myself. I went to some message boards, begging someone, anyone, to tell me what I missed, but no one responded. Hmmmm. I have little metallic party hats, wine glasses, and the occasional word "PARTY" lined up on my PC in front of me, leftover confetti from last Thursday. It's fun. Whee. Okay, I'm feeling loopy, think I'll take a nap, er, read my EW now. All I can say is Mark had better get his own diary, so I can "dip into his brain" like he's been dipping into mine. It's only fair. This could be very fun. P.S. Listerine is mumbling, I think she's reading her bible. *Hey, I'm home now. I made it through the maze that is Publix, and as I wandered, my five pound bag of sugar weighing oh so heavily in my handbasket, I, too, partook of the Meat Market Central atmosphere, gawking at this boy or that one, and as I was gawking at my final selection of the evening, I noticed someone gawking at me, the Eastern European cashier boy. He gawks at me every time I'm there. Some day we should address this, he and I. I could say, "Hey, why dost thou gawk?" and he could say, "Because thou dost capturest the attentions of my self", or something somewhat similar. He is sort of attractive, in his own Eastern European sort of way� those smouldering dark eyes, etc. As I left the Publix on my way home, I got these horrible stabbing pains in my forehead, part of my end of day headache, and I'm thinking it's totally blood sugar related. I need to eat. Plain. And. Simple. So I will. Soon, very soon. At the end of the day I found out Riley, one of the temps, the last temp, speaks some French, so we got French and silly out the ass. As I drove to the Publix (see, all the driving to and fro?) I had that horrible children's song stuck in my head, "Alouette". "Aloutte, gentil Alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai", or "plumere", je ne sais pas, mais c'est terrible! It's a song about a child plucking all the feathers off a nice birdie. Nice birdie, let me pluck the feathers off your head, nice birdie, now your nose, or wherever, beak, arms, legs, kill the fucking nice birdie while you're at it! Horrible. Just horrible. I'm beyond loopy. I saw a Coca Cola recipe magazine in the line at the Publix and I almost bought it. If only there'd been more recipes actually utilizing Coke as an ingredient, I would have. Oh, and I've been semi-desirous too, I hate the word "horny", but yeah, I guess, I mean I am looking at these boys, okay, men, well, some ARE boys, nudge, nudge, wink, you get it, but yeah, it happens every so often. I'll be just fine, don't worry about me, but there was this one guy with this long ponytail carrying his handbasket around the store� and the blond guy loading his stuff on the conveyer belt, and even the smouldery eyes Eastern European gawker guy, yeah, okay, I'm going to go eat now. Food. TV. Fun. Cost of the War in Iraq
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