Well, today is apparently the Great American Smoke-Out. How do I know? Some well-meaning citizen distributed their little baggies full of material throughout the smoking balcony. A lot of the people there seemed more than a little irritated by this. I wasn't. I went ahead and took one, even though I have no plans of quitting. See, I have it all worked out. I'll quit the day I get married, no sooner.
Anyway, in the little baggie there was....lessee....three buttons, two with bears holding their arms out as if for a hug, saying "I've just quit smoking. Please bear with me.", and a plain blue one with white lettering, proclaiming "Non-Smoker In Progress. Please Be Patient". There's also a postcard with Mr. Butts from Doonesbury, and two packs of matches that don't won't ever light. They're missing the sulfur tips. I don't know why. There's also two separate brochures showing me what my lungs probably look like, and a whole bunch of other brochures that don't have pictures that are interesting.
So, anyone wanna quit smoking?
Well, yesterday was......interesting. As usual, I slept through my first class (which I wasn't raring to go to anyway) and skipped my second class (because boredom gives me time to contemplate the evil thing in my gut), and went shopping. Originally, I was looking for something whimsical to send to Glee, but I found myself going into this kid's store next to Borders called Zany Brainy. I'm not too sure what the deal is, but this place was Hello Kitty Central. I mean, it had more stuff that Tower Records and the Sanrio stand in the mall combined! So, I bought myself a Hello Kitty Coin Bank to cheer myself up.
I picked up a couple McFlurries on the way home, because my boyfriend's spoiled, and they're one of the few things I can keep down right now. I didn't take another nap, but I cooked myself something and watched a bit of T.V. Dirk wasn't feeling well, so he had some aspirin and took another nap.
At about 4:30, I Made The Call. The lady who answered was nice, and very patient about answering my questions. The price for an abortion with local anesthesia is $275. If you want to be knocked out, it's $315. I have an appointment for Friday morning, which means I'll have the whole week-end to recover. The actual procedure only takes 5 minutes, but the whole visit should last about 2 hours, with prep time, and recovery.
I chose to make the appointment soon, because I don't know how much longer I can cover up the fact that I'm nearly completely unable to eat. I always feel full, and eating is likely to make me sick enough to lie down for an hour. In fact, as of last night, I'd lost 1.2 more pounds.
You know, they have a section in the yellow pages with the heading "Abortions". That's semi-disturbing. And there were ads for clinics in D.C. that said "Second Trimester in the District of Columbia!". Yeah. That's something worth advertising.
Apparently, I'm due to get a new computer here at work. It's a Gateway....much prettier than my computer. I think they're having a few problems, though, so I don't know when they're actually going to install it.
Interesting fact: Dirk doesn't like it when I refer to the soon-to-be-ex-fetus as "Dirk Jr." He says it's creepy. He's also semi-proud of the fact that he finally has proof he's "fertile". As if there was ever any doubt in my mind. I'll say this now, and I'll probably repeat it several times in the future: I don't understand men. I don't understand what goes through their testosterone-soaked brains.
I fell asleep in my clothes on Tuesday night, and woke up grumpy. Last night, I woke up at 1 a.m., and couldn't get back to sleep. I kept having twisting dreams that I was a neighborhood (no, that's not a typo), and a family was missing from my neighborhood. My stomach was also bothering me, so there's the source of that dream.
I just wanted to clarify just how much knowledge of Nietzsche and Nihilism Roachboy has: Squat. He knows nothing, he's never even really read the books. All he read was someone's critique of Nietzsche's stuff. And I think he still has my Sandman graphic novel. Nevermind the fact that he never paid me the rest of the money he owed me for the phone bill. Still reading, Roachboy?
I'm getting so tired of knowing that Roachboy reads this journal. I mean, is this his daily jerk-off? "Uhn....Uhn....Uhn....My life is going better than hers....uhn....uhn...uhn...." (the "Uhn's" are meant to be moans of pleasure) I mean, I rest secure in the knowledge that I could completely screw up my life, and I'd still be doing better than him. I guess he doesn't have that sort of piece of mind.
Of course, he doesn't have much else to do, does he? He says this journal is my life, but the bastard doesn't seem to understand that I actually do stuff, unlike him. See, he can't even do a half-decent job of putting up his pathetic little "novels", even though he does Squat all day. (Ooh, or am I forgetting his fast-paced McDonald's job?)
I forget what brought this up....I think it was the fact that someone signed his guestbook, and put a joke in there that's probably better than the entire rest of his site. You should check it out, maybe add a few jokes of your own to the guestbook, and bring the quality of his site up a few more notches.
I'm really beginning to enjoy the therapeutic benefits of choosing an enemy and attacking him through words on a daily basis. Krisco isn't a challenge. She doesn't read this journal, so it's the same as talking about her behind her back.
We need to calm down now.....I called the clinic this morning to get directions. It's where I always figured it was, because I'd seen anti-abortion protestors picketing in the office park it's in.
I forgot to mention the fact that there was a man playing bagpipes at the metro station Tuesday. From what I saw, it looked like there was some sort of ceremony planned. I wish I could have stuck around and watched.
Does anyone know the McDonald's song? I'd like to put the words into a background and start using it in these entries, just to yank Roachboy's chain. Contrast the deadly serious with the whimsically malevolent.
I don't know.....I'm going to put the blame for the last few paragraphs attacking Roachboy to my hormone surges. I swear I'll start being nicer as soon as I'm through with all this. Really, I mean it.
Actually, my temper has been suffering. Dirk started crying at one point yesterday, because I'd been yelling at him off an on all day. It wasn't pretty. I don't know why pregnancy has to make me such lousy company.