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Sunday July 15 2001 - 9:45 p.m. I took a "quality of life" test online, and the diagnosis was basically that I'm a wack job. The reasons for this diagnosis were as follows: I am not loving to my siblings 100% of the time. I exercise more than one hour per week (the survey referred to it as "sweaty exercise"...um, okay, I'm not going to comment on that. I'm just not.) I am in debt. I feel anxious or worried more than one or twice a week. And that's about it. And for that, I came out with passive-aggressive, anti-social, and psychosis on my summary. Good God in a box, people. No wonder everyone and their effing dog is in therapy. If I can't wack my brother upside the head while running on a treadmill and worrying about being debt at least once a week, then I'd need counseling. Not that I have anything against counseling. No, I think it's just dandy. If you need it, please. I'm asking you as a personal favor to me. Because I've known too many people that did need it and refused to go. So just don't be such a baby about it. Just go. ***This public service announcement is now concluded.*** So what did I do this weekend, I hear all of you asking. I danced, of course. I went with L to track down the most indescribable kitten ever created, and I do mean that. And I had dinner with all the usual players. While waiting for it to be prepared, I watched The Brave Little Toaster with L and her daughter, a movie that L so accurately described as "the creepy movie of psychedelic appliance love." That is one tripped out movie, man. I just don't even have a clue what the message is there. L and I discussed it at some length. All we could figure out was that if we had seen it as children, we'd be even more disturbed than we are now. Oh yeah, and also that if there was a message in there somewhere, it definitely kept changing on us. Well. I'm going to go do something that doesn't involve sitting in front of the computer now. It's time to move about, get out of this room, maybe...go lay down on my bed or something. If you get bored, feel free to send me some guestbook love. I love guestbook love. And I...love...you. Heh. Night,
-Mlle R
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