Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

I have a runny nose.

I've had a cold for about a week. And I suppose I shouldn't have gone dancing, but what else am I supposed to do to release this mad, pent-up energy?

(Mad, meaning tremendous, not angry.)

(Cause I'm not.)

I believe I may also be getting lip fungus, which believe you me, is no fun. Just no fun in that one, boy.

So, I thought I should tell any of you still there that I'm sorry about the lack of updates. Until April my diary is going to be sporadic at best, although I'd really love to have the time and energy to do regular updates it just doesn't seem to be happening. We open our first store next Saturday, so that's good. Hopefully things will slow at least a little bit.

Just this much would be okay with me.

So if you're going to the Olympics, head over to the Superstore and ask for Jen. That would be me. If you ask for Mlle Rewind, they won't have a clue what you're talking about and they might escort you out and besides most people pronounce it wrong anyway. So stick with Jen. That's my mild-mannered alter-ego. I'll be wearing a stupid Olympics uniform, but I get to wear my boots because I don't actually work at the store and because they like me better.

Or something.

That will be a serious trip, any of you people showing up (well...except for Louise...that would be pretty regular, actually). A serious trip in a good way.

I think.

We can go out for mixed drinks and fried appetizers. I'll regale you with stories. I'll ask you if you smell meat. I'll pet your clothing, if it's soft. You can sleep on my futon, if you're nice to my cat and you promise not to touch me in an inappropriate way.

Oh, and I'll decide what's inappropriate. It's better that way, for me. Then I get what I want and not get what I don't want.

That's the American dream, the me version.

Anyway, it all ends in April, this job and stuff, and then the Adventooooor begins. It's all open, babies. Give me suggestions. I'd love to hear it.

I would love to live somewhere where it doesn't snow so damned much. I want to work at Disneyland, and I want it to be fun to work there. I want to have skin that glows. I want to be brilliant. Oh, and I want to feel like I'm an active participant in what's going on around me.

Yep.

And I want my lip to stop this horrible, medieval punishment.

As Mike Ness so accurately put it, we're all sick boys.

Or something. I don't know.

I'll be back, I promise,

-Mlle R