I aim to make this diary good again. I've been slacking, giving all my love and attention to my newer, shinier, sexier pink diary and ignoring my old faithful, my true blue. (HA! I slay me)
So now, I unveil my new cud fighting super hero, Squee-Girl and her trusty sidekick, Moo-Boy. Say hi, Moo-Boy.
MOOOOO!
Right. Applications are being accepted for a new sidekick.
So, in no particular order, a list of things on my mind:
This diary. When did it start sucking? What did I used to write about? What made me entertaining (to myself at least) then? Why am I failing to entertain myself now? Is it simply some sort of December ennui, that which hit me last year when I couldn't read? I'm not depressed or unhappy or nuttin'. What da hell is going on here? And will I ever break the mind control Roman Brady has placed on me?
Christmas. Namely, how am I going to afford it? Crippity crap. See, it's times like these that I HATE living without a credit card. I mean, I know it's good to not go into debt, but still.... I will say though, that for the very first time I saved all my wrapping paper from last year for an ENTIRE year so I don't have to buy any this year. (See, normally I save my paper but then by June I get sick of seeing it and get rid of it, in order to make room for new clutter.)
Laundry. Fucking laundry. It never stops, does it? My sitting room is running out of room for sitting because I have stacks and piles of laundry all over the place.
TV. I haven't watched much lately. I think I have the past two month's worth of Desperate Housewives to make my way through. And I haven't watched Days of our Lives in months either. This all started after the week I spent at Dave's. I couldn't get back into my routine after that. Heck, the only TV I see now is whatever I turn on to eat my dinner to. (I would read whilst eating dinner but I don't have a dining room table. Shut uuup, in my mind, this makes sense)
Dinner: As in, I wonder whether it's ready yet. I should check.
SEX!!!!: Ha, that got all y'all interest, didn't it. Ya bunch of pervs. Yeah, so I, much like David Lee Roth (I can hear Smed now, crying, "Rip off!!!"), want some. Yes, I've been getting some. But I want more, dagnabbit. Like, oh, for example, Every. Damn. Night. Sometimes twice. That would be nice. Hey, I'm just saying. Isn't that supposed to be one of the perks of dating a younger man?
That younger man: Why yes, of course he's on my mind as well. Not just in conjunction with the above, you realize. No, seriously, he's really very yummy and all that but he's also just really cool and fun to hang out with. I am bit frettful about his reaction to the email I sent yesterday, although mostly today, really, I have to admit my mind is on The Sex. I keep thinking about him and I and--
Moo-Boy: "MOOOO!!!"
Squee-Girl: "Not NOW, Moo-Boy, she was finally getting to the good stuff."
Me: ::blinks dazedly:: "What was I talking about? Oh right...."
Dinner: Spaghetti. Yum. Hungry now. Not ready yet though. SUCKS!
Mercury: Yes, the planet. No, I'm not an astronomy geek. I've been helping Ben with a science project today. About Mercury. Did you know Mercury has no moons? And it's surface is cratered, like our moon? And it's NOT the hottest planet? (Saturn is. I think. Or maybe Venus. I can't remember now)
Squee-Girl: "CUUUUUUD!"
Me: "Hey, that looks a lot like "CHAAAAAD!" Smed, when we go CHAAAAD-ing, can we go CUUUUUD-ing too?"
Work: Gah! Not loving my job right now. It'll get better but for now, it's totally lame. I still love my coworkers though. Adam in particular was in rare form Friday. For some reason (oh wait, I take that back, I do know the reason. Let me start again.)
I looked good on Friday. I was wearing a denim mini skirt that I hadn't been able to fit into for six years. And I had on black knee high boots. And I was getting compliments and stuff. It was cool. But Adam decided I needed to be brought down a peg. For my own good, of course. So I didn't get my head all swollen. So he made up a song, sung in a completely tuneless and flat monotone:
"Vicki Vicki Vicki You are so stupid"
Hm. Nice. He claims he often makes up songs. Ann asked whether he was going to propose to his girlfriend in the same way.
"Jenny Jenny Jenny Will you marry me?"
Later he took a newspaper or something and just started swatting me in the back of the head. I. Don't. Know. Why. But that's when I started poking him. Which made him giggle. Like a girl. Even more girly than usual, matter of fact.
There was more. I can't remember it all.
Squee-Girl: "That's okay, Vicki, you don't have to remember it all. Just the good stuff. If you can't remember it, it's not worth writing about. And writing about something that isn't worth writing about....well, it just makes you cud."
