outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- black coffee Ok, that's enough. No more Debate-It for me. Not only is the format ridiculously hard to follow, from a logistical point of view, but reading the posts is obviously bad for my health. I've resolved not to return. I'll stick to the Straight Dope, where people are required to back up their views, and people who are ignorant assholes get roasted over an open flame for it, deservedly. I can't believe no one responded negatively to the article I referred to yesterday. (Except Fae, who tried, but was basically blown off.) Just forget it. I don't need that. Bunch o'whiny kids trying to be louder than the last (with apologies to Plastron). Thanks for the support in my guestbook, you guys. And for those of you who I know don't agree...thanks for not screaming about it. You may have noticed I didn't post on Wednesday. No 9/11 memorial for me...and no, what I posted yesterday didn't count. I'd like to heartily second the decrying of the hypocrisy inherant in much of the sentiment, as described here. Thank you, Giallo. I suspect something similar is being echoed in Ginger's entry, but unfortunately *bitchslaps Netscape* I can't see it. Anyway. Sorry to rain on your parade...actually, no. I'm not. See, this is why I tried to stay out of it in the first place. Back to my train of thought, which is now fifty miles from here...*hops into a cab* I took Wednesday off as a mental health day. Not for the obvious reason, but because I needed the sleep and I needed to calm the fuck down after the robbery and feeling afraid and unsafe. I slept till elevenish and Rob came over and we hugged long and hard. Not so much because seeing is believing and I couldn't really be sure he was ok until I saw him for myself, but just because...I am so grateful that he is still around. That's all. We made a lovely pizza and stuffed ourselves with it and were cozy for a few hours before he had to go. I'm looking forward to seeing him again tonight -- his visits are always too few and too far between. I know, I'm being selfish; imagine how Giallo and her man must suffer. Imagine........ Yes, I know. I'm lucky, and I appreciate that. Yesterday, after I oozed my rage all over this diary (and don't think for a minute that it's gone now), and got the hell out of this place, I went home for an all-too-brief nap before going out with my friend Ann to the Midway Cafe. Holy hell. This place is basically a bar, with a club's-worth of people stuffed inside. It was so, so tiny, and there were so, so many people there. All women. Some hot, some very not. All dancing. All drinking. All very much in my way. Not too much action; one girl did a little hip-swiveling for me for no apparent reason, I smiled at one cute girl, who smiled back (ooooooh, yeah I know, how lame), and the DJ talked to me before I left because... Because I was accidentally really fucking rude. Ann and I were sitting really close to her little DJing station, right between two enormous speakers, probably in the loudest spot in the room. At times, it would get too overwhelmingly loud and I would have to cover my ears...never giving a thought to the woman standing beside me who was spawning this music. When I got up to go she came down and apologized to me for making me cover my ears! I felt like such an asshole. She seemed to think I did it because the music sucked...and it sort of did...but I was doing it for volume reasons and nothing more. God, what a twit. *hides face* If Ann and I go back there, and we're actually thinking we will, we'll be going back during the pre-music hours. All we wanted to do was meet people, and that's a little hard when no one can hear themselves think. Today, I'm going shopping with my sister in Boston. Even though I'm tired, hoarse, and smell of smoke. Plus, I look like shit! I foresee myself being ushered out of toity Newbury Street stores this afternoon. Ah yes. The fulfillment of all my life's dreams. Am I overly morbid, or do other people wake up in the morning afraid that their pets aren't going to? I'm always aware that the bird can drop dead at any time. This is my father's fault. This is how he described bird death: instant and unexpected. Greeeaaaat. In other bird news, I almost told the bird I loved it last night, and then I got squeamish and couldn't. What is that? I need professional help. I also need professional clothes. This is why I'm going shopping with my sister today. Good god. If I thought it possible that I could actually have a hangover from two drinks and five hours of sleep, I would suspect that's what I have. But I don't think it possible. I must just be going senile. 9:26 a.m. - 2002-09-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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