Well, I am heartened by the fact that no e-mails demanding that I verify the facts stated in this journal are forthcoming. Of course I know a secret that certain others do not seem to have grasped: when people start thinking I'm just a pathetic hack who does this journal to have a semblance of a life, they just go away. No fanfare, no recriminations. Bye-bye. I get taken off their link list and they quit reading.
It's as simple as that.
Glee, your e-mail bounced me. I yelled at the computer.
Onto reality. I didn't watch any T.V. whatsoever last night. I talked to Katie for a few minutes, talked to Chris for a few more minutes, then went over to visit Dirk. We ended up taking a nap. Naps and I have a very close relationship. Taking a nap with someone is how I confer vast levels of trust upon them. Dirk and I started out taking naps together.
When I left, Dirk was very groggily getting up for work. Poor dear works midnight to seven a.m. I need to buy him a present so that he won't feel sad.
Speaking of which, Valentine's day is coming up, and I don't know what to get him. Last year, as you may recall, I gave him enough Reese's Pieces to make him sick. He didn't get sick, which I found vaguely disappointing, but he loved them. I didn't really get any of the Reese's Pieces, though. Maybe I should buy him truffles (the kind I want from Harry and David), so he can give them to me and I can sing a little song to each truffle before I eat it.
That's a little selfish, though. I could buy him ice cream, but that's so short-lived. He can go through a pint in about fifteen minutes. I could buy him another guitar, but I'm broke and I owe people money. Maybe I'll buy him a book....and some more Reese's Pieces.
Half the office is in training right now. That's fine with me. I can sit back in my government-issue chair and eat my granola bar. Alex is busy writing an essay entitled, "Things I Like Very Muchly." He's been writing this essay for a year now. I'm wondering if it will ever be completed.
Eight hours of sleep later, I'm still ready to collapse. Maybe it's because I'm still sick. At least I'm eating healthy.
I'm supposed to be responding to e-mail (I got quite a lot). I'll go until I find something new to say.
(10:30 am) So, I cheaped out on the lyrics for the February page and used Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." Everyone knows that song. It means a lot to me, because it simultaneously invokes images of the life I lived (back in the dark days of innocence), and it reminds me of C– (who likes Pink Floyd and used to have a homepage dedicated to them). Once upon a time, GSFU was supposed to play that song.
Alex claims he's getting sued for something....I've been eavesdropping again. He hasn't yet specified what he's getting sued for. Are the aliens suing him for damaging their anal probe?
He was showing Letisha nude pictures of guys and making comments. Obviously he needs to learn how to win friends and influence others. Letisha wasn't impressed. Right now we're having a contest: How Long Can You Ignore The Phone? See, we have to answer the phones for another office, because their receptionist, Anthony, can't keep his ass at his desk. Alex tries not to answer the phones if he can, and I'm sick as shit of picking up his slack.
(11:15 am) I'm going to kill Alex. I went in the back to tell Letisha something, when my supervisor felt the need to find me. Apparently, there was no-one up front to answer the goddamn phones. Alex just fucking disappeared while I was away from my desk. His gay little ass is toast, just as soon as I can find someone to beat him up. Not only that, but when he came back, he had the utter nerve to tell me, "Well, I was delivering a package!"
As if that fucking excuses him.
It isn't even afternoon yet, and I'm ready to kill. This is a bad sign.
(8:45 pm)I'm sitting here drinking those lovely International Delights creamers. The swiss chocolate flavored ones. Celebrate the moments of your life. Especially the fattening ones. I can drink that dairy creamer stuff until I get sick, no problem.
I forgot to mention that my car broke down today. Wouldn't start at all. Stupid car. They think it might be the carburator, which is more expensive than the battery. Luckily, my parents will let me drive their car until mine gets fixed (which may not be for a couple weeks, depending upon the money situation).
I wrote C-- another e-mail, telling him about a dream I had. I wasn't going to tell him about it, because the dream made me feel happy when I had no cause to be. Also, I didn't want to feel like the creepy dream-stalker again.
Dirk's spoiled. He wants another guitar for Valentine's Day. He's not getting one. Right now, he'll be lucky if he gets a painted rock.