Well, I guess I should have known Dirk wouldn't call. Granted, he had a good excuse, since he didn't have a lunch break during which to call. I still worried. Visions of Dirk dead along the parkway filled my head.
Anyway, it was a good thing we decided that if I didn't hear from him before I left work, I was picking him up at six.
I got flowers today. From a secret admirer. No, actually it was for something obscene like Secretary's Week. Yeah, suck it up. You're just jealous because you're not a top secret receptionist, like Agent Skatter. Not the greatest of flower arrangements, consisting of a carnation and some baby's breath, but who am I to complain?
The thistles are growing gigantic along I-95. I passed some while driving away from The Pentagon today (and you didn't believe I'm a top-secret receptionist, did you?) that must have been at least 4 feet high. The purple-neon flowers were as big as my fist. I want a bunch of 'em growing in my front yard. Attractive, and it'll keep the neighborhood pests away (small children, gangs, etc).
Dirk's typing too loudly next to me...he's about to bring the Library Patrol down on our asses.
I called a number to get information on government auctions of siezed items. You can buy cars (good ones!) for 3-400 dollars. That's for me. Fuck whoever's rights got screwed by the siezure. I need a car. Am I or am I not just the most typical example of a capitalist pig? Remember, feel free to send me money!! I take checks, money orders, cash, and most major credit cards.
Luckily, my father didn't notice what I did to the remote control. I'll still have to buy a new one, but this means I got to make up a convincing story beforehand, instead of stammering when he cornered me. My convincing story? I got pissed at one of the cats (Genghis) for biting me, and threw it at him. To anyone with any knowledge of my temper, this isn't surprising.
One of the people who responded to our ad called Dirk back yesterday. He doesn't live very far from us, and he's what we needed most: a drummer. We're supposed to meet him Friday night. Cross your fingers, say a little prayer, skin your hamster at midnight, whatever it takes to wish us luck.
As a side note, Blitzkreig's still alive. Just so you know I'm still checking. I may even clean her cage tomorrow.
Ken's supposed to call me tomorrow to tell me if he got his stuff or not. Of course he didn't. I never sent it. I've got better things to do with my hard-earned cash than box up his stuff and ship it to him. He can come up here and get it. Maybe Whitney the Dog Lover can drive him up here.
I need to add Ken to my enemy list. I'd just love to kill him.
I forgot to mention something. You know that question about how many journals you read daily in My Survey? The snide comments don't apply to webring masters and mistresses whose rings I either belong to already or am trying to join. Just so you know that I'm a complete suck-up.