outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- brain candy Hey there. It's been one of those times where there's so much to write about you can't get going with it. Easter was lovely, except for the feeling I came away with from Rob's mom's house...which was allayed in great part, and quite possibly without their knowing, by Titou and Poetboy #79 (not to be confused with plain old Poetboy, who just started his diary yesterday). Just the fact that you guys assured me that what I saw wasn't normal, was an overwhelming relief. Thank you for that. I was having major doubts about my marriage, and this cruise specifically. At least on the boat, I won't have to deal with strippers. Right? Anyway, whether Rob's brothers are misguided misogynists (that's two things: they are both misguided AND misogynists), I can't hold it against Rob, and he proves this to me time and again. He's just not like typical guys, the guys I'm afraid of, the guys whose girlfriends I'm afraid for. At least, not with me he's not. As he's also managed to prove to me, when guys are with guys, the rules all change. Damn you y-chromosome holders with your dangerous machismo. Be a little less ridiculous, if you please. My god, writing it out makes me feel better. I never think it will, and then it does. So many things have I learned in the past few days. Including the following: if you are Rob, and your girlfriend Jessie has stupidly left her contact prescription at home and asks you to bring it to work, and then forgets you can't get in the building, do not leave the materials outside a door and run. This causes security officers to confiscate said materials and suspect that the contact solution is nitro. True story. We are all lucky Rob isn't locked up in a high-security jail cell as we speak. My parents ordered me to let them take me home after Easter fun was complete. Apparently, I don my Easter dress, and hey presto, I am an Instant Violent Crime Target. Did you know? Never mind that I would only have had to walk from the T station to my apartment. Never mind that I've done it at midnight alone in a mini skirt and kinky boots. No. Because the instant they know about it, it becomes The Most Dangerous Thing Ever. They even pulled the we're-your-parents-you-do-what-we-say bullshit, which is just a tad on the absurd side considering, you know, everything. But I didn't struggle too hard, as I was getting a free ride out of the deal. On Friday, if you recall, I met with Anna for dinner, wherein we disappointed the waiter by not choosing his recommendation, and pissed him off by not leaving in due time. Talking to you, Anna, is so good for my mind, and I really love it. Social stimulation is so lacking in my life. And speaking of social stimulation, I have another dinner date this week, to discuss Bolo's views on the birth of the universe. Beat that, baby. For those of you who are very sad and not afraid to admit it, there's an article featuring my ex-Animotion uncle in Soap Opera Weekly, or something of that nature. Page 36 I think, or whatever one contains the dorkiest article about music directing you've ever seen. That one. I'm might come back later and discuss why science is NOT a religion. And then again, I might not. 12:21 p.m. - 2002-04-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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