6/21/03 12:19 a.m.
Hey, Jimmy Kimmel just said that the new Harry Potter book has been on sale 'for a few minutes,' i.e. it's just past midnight. Well, sure, it's just past midnight here, but it was just past midnight in New York an hour ago. So that means this show is not live, at least not tonight. I think they owe us an apology.

My buddy B. (her real first initial) called me and left a message earlier in the week, and has not since returned any of my many messages. What should I do? Why, leave goofier and goofier messages, of course! In the most recent one I read passages from "An Exultation of Larks" by James Lipton, a book of collective nouns by the guy who hosts "Inside the Actor's Studio".

Gee, blogs are fun, aren't they? Well, I like to buck tradition (yes, I said "buck") and so instead of using traditional blog software, I'm using a little no-frills program called "Notepad.exe". I highly recommend it for if you ever need to type things and not worry about font or pages or anything like that.

Well, Cookie (one of my cats) is getting irritated with me. I think he wishes I would just go to bed. I think I will.

When I got home from work after a full day which was particulary trying because they made me clean out the mop corner in the café and I had a headache all day and I still do and every stinking customer wanted a copy of Harry Potter Volume 5 and I had to say that all our copies are spoken for about fifteen hundred times and sound happy about it EVERY STINKING TIME AND I AM SO FREAKING TIRED OF HARRY POTTER AND I HAVEN'T EVEN READ IT YET...!

Um. Lemme start that sentence over again. When I got home from work at 11:00, I found a note on the stairs reminding me to a.) pay bills and b.) clean up the catboxes. So of course I immediately sat down on the couch and watched TV for an hour first, because of course you can't go straight from a crummy day to doing two crummy jobs without your head exploding, right?

Right. So of course I did the easier one first, which is scooping out the catboxes. I have two, because I have two cats, and suffice it to say that was just a bundle of fun, but I had to do it because I promised to do it when we got our second cat who is a story all unto himself for a future entry. And being the responsible adult-type person that I am, I did it. Good for me.

Then I found my checkbook, and then I called the bank's computer to see if I had any money (I did-- note the past tense here), and then I started writing out checks and didn't stop until I ran out of bills. Not when I ran out of money; I did that before the last check. (I probably will be mailing that last one in a little later this week.)

Total number of checks written: 5.
Total number of checks for student loans: 2.
Total number of checks for fun things: 3.

Hmm... does my car count as a fun thing? I guess so, but I need it to get to work, so it really isn't that fun. But it does play CDs and go fast and is named Felix the Car, the Wonderful Wonderful Car... so it's fun. So fun things still outnumber things that are not fun, so bill paying isn't really that bad. It isn't every day you get to witness an epiphany as it's happening, but there you go.

Still sucks to give people money though. A lot.

There's a particular X-Files episode that I've never bothered to tape; Krycek's in it, but you only see him out of disguise in the last two minutes. (If you are nodding at this point, you too are an X-Files geek and need to embrace your X-Files geekiness. If you're saying, "Oh, she means 'S.R. 819'," then you already have.) Well, after I got home from work tonight I stumbled across this episode and decided to tape just the last two minutes. They'd fit nicely between two other things I have on a tape that's already on the VCR. I cued up the tape. I hit 'record' and 'play' and 'pause' on the remote and waited for that scene.

That's when the power went out.

"NO!" I said and then chuckled-- at myself mostly, but also at the situation, and the weirdness of sitting in complete darkness. The lightning chose that moment to flash and it looked weird. I guess you had to be there.

Then the power came back on, the lights and VCR and TV but not the cable for some reason. I ran over to the TV and it took me a couple of minutes to figure out how come I could hear the TV but not see anything. (The sound is run through the VCR.) I was able to turn everything back on just in time to tape the scene. Whew.

(Oh by the way, a big thunderstorm is still raining and blowing and thundering and lightninging outside. I'm typing this on a notebook computer that's running on a battery. It's unplugged. And now I have to go reset all the clocks.)

I go downstairs, look out the front window: Nothing weird. I put on the front light. I open the inside door. Nothing weird. I pick up Cookie (so he won't run outside) and open the screen door; nothing weird. I am spooked anyway.

I'm going to bed now.

Me: Thank you for calling [name of company]. This is Karen, how can I help you?

Him: This is [some guy's name] from [some glass company]. How are you doin' today?

Me (Thinking this is one of our distributors and the next thing he's gonna ask is to talk to a manager): Fine. You?

Him: Good. Say, do you have any cracks or dents in your windshield?

Me: *Excuse me?* You do realize this is a company, don't you?

Him: Yes. So, do you?

Me: Well, I don't buy things from people over the phone.

Him: I didn't ask you to buy anything. I asked if you have any cracks or dents in your windshield.

Me: And I didn't tell you. (He starts to say something else, and a customer walks up to the desk) Well, I've got things I need to be doing. Have a nice day now. [I hang up.]

What a dork, huh? The only way I can humanize these people and be something close to kind to them is to remember they have a crap job. So don't give them answers you don't want to give them, and feel free to hang up on 'em, but only if they're jerks. Like this guy.

I will not type one of these up unless I have something to say. This will be one of the few blogs that does not contain any (ANY!) entries that consist solely of "I am so bored. Life is dull. I don't care."

You're welcome.

So tonight I just want to say this: My favorite comfort food is Cheerios right out of the box, possibly because Mom gave 'em to me when I was teething. The end.

Hey, these can't all be Pulitzer Prize winners.

I’m sorry, but I’ve fallen again. I mean it, I’m hopelessly in love with you & you should just run very far away because nothing but bad things can come of this. I can’t believe you have a girlfriend and is she the one you live with? So I should just say that’s it, I’m gay? No, not gay. Asexual. That’s it, I’ve not only given up on men, I’ve given up entirely, ‘cause there is no way, oh no way I could find anyone else in this whole entire world that makes me feel the way you do. This is so not fair. Why didn’t I meet you before she did?-- another question for the pile of questions I have in the back of my head, that I will not have answered to my satisfaction in this lifetime.

And the worst part is, oh the very worst part is that when you look at me I feel like you’re feeling this too. I feel like somehow, through some sick joke of the universe you can sense this undeniable connection that we have and dare I say it? I think you might like me too. You know what that means? No? I don’t either. I’ve never done this before. I’ve had lots of meaningless crushes, sure, I’ve had friends that I’ve loved but no-one like this.

Do you hear me? I’m crazy about you. How can it be that I’ve finally really and truly fallen head over heels for someone and not have that reciprocated? No, really, I want an answer.

So now what? I guess for a little while longer I can go on pretending like everything is fine, and smile and say hello when I see you, and flirt a little bit (because there is no way I’m going to stop doing that). After a while though, I feel like I’m just going to tackle you and hold you down and recite this to your face. I can’t even write you a secret admirer note because I know you’d figure out who it was from, right away. I honestly don’t know what to do.

I guess that's enough for now. I have to go to bed, and tomorrow after I get up and take a shower these feelings will have faded to the point where I can deal with them just like I have been. And everything will be fine until you look at me like you do again.

Ah, but now we have a new problem. Along with the old I-can-see-into-your-soul stare, and his habit of standing much too close to me while he's talking to me which I seem not to have mentioned but still drives me wild, now he's looking at me like he can tell something has changed in the way I look at him. It's like he's about to say, "What? What is it?" and then I'll turn bright red and be completely unconvincing in the horrible lie that I'll have to make up on the spot. (Audible sigh.)

In other news, Dad's back home after being gone for two weeks, so I see I'll have to start keeping some somewhat normal hours. He's working from home now, so that means he'll be home all the time. Like a retired person, but with something to do. I'll probably be moving out soon. (I love ya, Dad, but after a certain age the prospect of living with other people looks really tempting.)

Oh, if you're good, sometime I'll tell you the lesson of the popsicles. I have to go to bed now though, since I have to get up freakishly early tomorrow.