5/2/00
It's about 3:30, and I've had the equivalent today of 1/4 of a cigarette. I want to hurt someone. Real bad. Don't go congratulating me and sending me e-mail messages of support, though. This is just a trial run. I'm not ready yet to commit to anything. I've been smoking for 10 years now and next to eating, sleeping, and sex, it's my favorite thing in the world to do. And don't send me any disgusting e-mails saying "hey, baby, I got something you can do with your mouth," because remember, even though I'm from Missouri, I still have all of my teeth.
I just want to eat SO BAD. That's another problem, I'm trying to eat like a reasonably healthy human being. I made these life-disrupting decisions last night on my way home from work. I was singing along to the radio, and it occurred to me that I wasn't hitting notes. Hell, I sounded like Roseanne trying her hand at opera. And I thought, holy shit, I can't sing anymore! Well, after a few more "warm ups" I was back to my usual songbird self, but it freaked me out. I don't want to be a short Bea Arthur. (It may be too late for that, though...) So I decided to for now just see how much I can cut back on cigs. Actually, I'm trying to see how bitchy I can get before someone thrusts a cigarette into my mouth and lights it and never ever bitches about me smoking again.
So today has just sucked. It was pretty good until lunch time, when Megan called me having a fit about having to drive some kid across town, can't meet you for lunch, you'll have to go to the store and get your own salad, whatever. So I get to the store and...Remember that debit card and driver's license are in Megan's car. Decide to write check. Get salad, go to check out, realize checkbook is in car. Run to car, retrieve checkbook, go back to check out. Realize check out man has allowed woman of loaded cart to go ahead of you. Curse check out man. Move to new check out. Write check, complete with driver's license number and daytime phone number. Check out man asks for ID. Dig purposefully through purse. Curse. Tell check out man "I've shopped here for the last 6 years." Check out man says "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you." Tell check out man, "Well, I don't recognize you, either, buddy." Check out man takes your $3.85 check just to get you out of store. Thank check out man sarcastically and leave with salad. Drive home, choke down salad, take call from Megan asking "did you get me a salad?" Apologize. Leave 10 minutes after arriving. Get to work 10 minutes late. Pray for cigarette manufacturing plant to explode creating a rainshower of cigarettes right over your house.
I can't wait to get out of here today. I just really don't want to be here. Megan and Jud and Pam stole a bunch of mulch from the city last night and we re-did our front yard and north side flower beds. They look nice now that the black plastic isn't showing through. We're so INTO this yard business.
Oh, God, Weird Laurie told us this nasty ass story about how her impregnated mother and daughter cats both had their kittens at the same time when she wasn't home and one of her dogs "played with them" and left them dead and strung out all over the house. EEEWWW. Now if that isn't enough to make you get rid of all of your pets, I don't know what is. So we asked her, "does this mean you're going to get them spayed now?" She found her pot while cleaning up the kitten carcases, by the way (in case anyone was worried). Damn psycho, I wish she'd sell her fucking house!
So much for Tuesday...
Next Entry