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Wednesday November 28 2001 - 7:37 p.m. Hi. Rob was here and so was George. To that, I say: Hooooray! Now they are gone. To that, I say: Booo! Hisss. I also gnash my teeth, for good measure and also because I like the word "gnash" and I like to imagine what it looks like to gnash a tooth. Or several. I like George. Heaps, even. He is me-approved. Stop looking at me like that. That's important. ________________________ Right now, in my game of FreeCell, I could use a black nine or a red eight. The game is not going well. ________________________ I'm sorry that I seem to be unable to get through an entry that is 100% Cocoa Krispies free lately, but it simply must be said at this point: Cocoa Kripsies are far superior to Cocoa Pebbles. I mean, come on. What an effing disappointment, man. Still. Fruity Pebbles rock my world six ways to Sunday. And Cinnamon Pebbles sound positively barfy (it's a word because I say it is). I feel the need to hurl just thinking about them. Someone get me a bucket. Cereal, babies, is important. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. ________________________ There is a cotton ball that lives in the bottom of my cotton ball jar. It never moves, I never use it. It is the biggest cotton ball I have ever seen. It is the King Bee. (Don't ask me how I know it's male. I just do.) I use the cotton balls down to that one, and then I just refill. I can't use it, because it's too big and it would be like scrubbing my face with a Toyota. A soft, fuzzy Toyota with some absorbancy, but a Toyota nonetheless. And besides, it's lived there for so long now, it just seems weird to use it now. Jason doesn't use it either. I'm not sure that Jason uses cotton balls, actually, but that bastard just sits right there. It's huge. And I'm not sure what to do with it. I can't throw it out, even though I don't use it, because what if, one day, I really need a cotton ball, and it's the only one in the house? Besides, it's not hurting anyone. Back off. Such are my dilemmas. Don't even ask me about the empty toiletry bottles under my sink. Well, I mean...go ahead and ask me if you really, really want to. That was just a figure of speech. But you get my point. ________________________ I had an imaginary date on Friday, for about a half an hour. I do not have an imaginary date any more. A drunk man slurred at me about his gin and tonic. That had nothing at all to do with my imaginary date. Neither did me yelling, "Oh Louise help me!" Although it could have, in the right circumstances. ________________________ Jason turned old on Monday. When you get this old, you don't count it any more. You just turn old, every year. "So how old will you be this year?" "Old." His driver's license says Age: Old. Yup. It does. Bring on the Minty Fresh Polident! ________________________ Work is slowly driving me insane. I think it's doing that thing, like that guy in that movie where he tries to make his wife think she's insane. Only it's really making me insane. On purpose. I guess that's what he was doing to his wife in that movie too, only not directly. Just sort of. Zzzzzzzzz... Oh. Sorry. I nodded off on myself. That part of the entry, just now. It was so worth it, wasn't it? ________________________ Well. Well. Well. Give yourself a bawdy fondle, and tell yourself it's from me.
-Mlle R
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