Can I just rip out my brain and have a new one, please? Heh, you think I'm teasing. My head's about to pop, swear it. If I have to make one more fone call to one more lettered professional regarding insurance premiums and taxes and capital gains and debt and car payments that were due 2 weeks ago...Augggghhhhh!

Money money money. Makes me want to throw a good and proper fit. A nasty one...one that'd shame a thumb-sucking three-year-old. Yeah!

Instead, though — and mostly because I haven't the energy to do much more than sit with my ever-broadening backside wedged into this chair — I've elected to spend my 11th hour with you, dear reader. 11th hour til what, you ask? My 25th birthday, of course. Yes, darlings, at precisely 2.03 AM (Tuesday), my replacement arrives: The Adult Gage. Don't worry, you'll get on just fine with her. She isn't terribly different from the regular me. Well, except that she has absolutely no sense of fashion, is prone to saying, "Uh, I don't get what's with kids these days," and nods vacantly at references to grunge, MTV, and body piercing. Tragically un-hip. Anyone under 20 calls her "Ma'am." You get the picture.

In other news...I've been writing. Well, that and reading. A book discounter set up temporary shop in town, with 90% off all titles in stock til inventory's wiped and they close. Picked up a large stack of romance novels. Yes, you heard me right. I bought them to research the genre. See, much as I'd like to write stories that bear Academia's seal of approval, I got bills that need paying. Now, I'm not saying that romance writing is simple, or that I think any moron can do it. Nor am I saying that greed alone is what propels my fingers over the keyboard. It's just, I think I can write and sell one or two and pay off that stupid car. I've sort of always had a couple romance novels brewing in my sick noggin. Besides, I'm rather keen on the idea of having my books listed directly after Danielle Steel's.

By now, I'd wager you've noticed the new design. I spent several hours web surfing the other night, and a few sites may have influenced what you see. Because there's been a bit of graphics theft on the diary ring recently, I will tell you that a number of my fellow diarists inspired me, and though I don't remember exactly who or what or why, I thank them for stimulating my dusty rightbrain. However, I do create all my images myself.

Some of you have inquired as to the legitimacy of the things discussed in my entries. I wish I could tell you that monsters like the ones that reside in my past are the stuff of faerie stories and Stephen King bestsellers. I wish I were creative and talented enough to make up stuff this good. But they aren't and I'm not. Names and locations (and occasionally dates) are the only items belched up from my imagination.

Gee, I've got a sort of agenda going tonight. Best not break stride...

From the Senior Coordinator in the Gage Blame Management Dept.: Geocities' mail server is giving me the big middle finger. The mail comes in just fine; it's the outbound queue that won't behave its nasty self. So, if you've written and haven't received a reply, it's Geo. I'm researching alternatives.

Gulp. It's after midnight, and thus officially the 15th of April. Maybe I'll go to bed and not wake up til Wednesday. Wouldn't that be just too nice?