HOLY SHIT.  Look what I got today:
 

 
 
 
 
 
Thank you, Marty & Nicole for helping me with cameltoe.  Come to think of it, this journal should be named Cameltoe.  I want shirts.  i see posters, happy meals.  A whole marketing extravaganza.  The only problem with all of this is that I can't look women in the eye at the gym anymore.  Im too busy checking out the goods.  This makes me feel sort of lecherous.  But since I'm a woman and the people I'm looking at are women, maybe it's okay.
 

Other Journal News:

Oh my god.  A NEST OF MIDGETS.  Please go read this.  I about spit my coffee across my desk.  Now, I cant get the damn visual out of my head.   it's very vivid. I see midgets, all curled together, wet & slimy, straining their little heads up and out for food.  Making hungry grunting noises.  Bumping into one another.  Then some normal sized person reaching down with a fistful of cheerio's and flinging them into the nest.  Then the groping and grappling to get to at them.  It's not a pretty sight.  It's always funny to me, what people's phobias are.  Im personally somewhat anti midget.  I recall reading an interview years back with the woman who was married to Herve Villachaize.  She was quoted as saying: "You haven't lived until you've had a naked, chocolate covered midget between your legs".  Just thinking about it gives me the shivers.  Actually, little Herve starred in one of my favorite moves, "The Forbidden Zone".  There's a scene with him and the queen, well, his little fingers are all over her, and I cant separate them from vienna sausages, mentally.  For god's sake.  A. NEST.  OF.  MIDGETS.  I cant say anymore about it, or I'll think about it for the rest of my life.  Seriously.
 

I Really am a Wimp:

I had this long conversation with my mother last night.  It's come to my attention that I'm the kind of person who feels compelled to be nice to people.  This, of course, is in reference to BS.  I know I'm definitely harping on this subject, but shit.  She's evil.  My mother gave me this mantra to chant:  JUST BECAUSE YOU ASK THE QUESTION DOESN'T MEAN I HAVE TO ANSWER IT.  which is something I'm going to have to really condition myself to believe.  I mean, why *did* I answer her when she called asking whether or not I'd been promoted yet?  It's not her business.  I just cant help myself.  I'm not used to people asking questions for purposes of evil.  Im used to nice, normal people who are concerned for my welfare and don't want to screw me and aren't asking me questions to find out just how far they can get away with pushing me.  It's not who I am, to second guess people's nature.  I think that my first opinion on people is almost always correct, and my initial reading on BS was dead on.  Despite my knowing that she's quizzing me strictly for her own gain, I cant stop answering.  She asked me *AGAIN*, today, if I'd gotten my promotion.  I answered, *again*, "it's a formality".  This time she came up with a new follow up question:  "Do you still work for Dr. A?"  "As far as I know" I replied, "but probably not forever".  What the hell is my problem??  Why do I have to answer her?  I mean, what is it in me that doesn't allow me just not to say anything?  To answer "I don't know" and move on?  To say "it's really not your business" with a smile on my face?  To be firm, yet gentle?  As Louise told me, "you need to grow a set of balls".  I guess I do. I always thought I had balls, I don't think they're big enough.  I always believed that it was worse to be hard-nosed than tender hearted.  I held that credo close within me, and for the most part, it's served me well.  Until now. I suppose it's one of those things where the credo needs to change depending on who I'm dealing with.  Dammit.  I hate people who are untrustworthy.

Temp Sighting:

12:50pm, I was leaving the cafeteria, she was going in.  She practically ran into me.  Looked me right in the eye.  Not even a flicker of recognition.  Maybe she thought I was Nicole.    Whew.  I narrowly escaped inane conversation.  Although, come to think of it, she may have complimented me about how lovely i am (to work with), which is always nice for the old ego machine.
 
 

Not Mercilessly Sucking Up in Hopes of Gaining an Audience, I Swear:
A while back I read this article someone wrote called "why i hate online journals" or "why all online journals suck" or something like that.  One of her rules was *NOT* to name drop other people's journals in your journal in hopes to get a wider readership.  Seeing as how I've already mentioned one journal (see above) I'm hesitant to mention another, but I'm seriously NOT doing it to get readers (nay, readers will have to be won over by my golden disposition and winsome ways).  Besides, the people I've mentioned for the most part have no idea I'm even doing this.  Except for Dave V.  And the only reason I bring him up is because he chastised me (indeed, and I feel ashamed) for BEGGING PEOPLE TO EMAIL ME.  Do I really appear to be begging for email?  Am I really THAT pathetic to come across as begging?  That's pretty sad.  Well, forget about it, then.  I don't want your feeble attempts at making me feel better by sending me pity email.  I'll write myself email and mail it back and forth between various accounts.  Which I've been known to do on occasion anyway.  (like *that* doesn't sound more pathetic than begging for email)So, to you Dave, I say neener neener.  You can still have a prize if you want one.  Point taken, however, and I've removed some of the superfluous please email me links.

Why this, why now?

I've noticed a lot of people giving their REASONS for putting their journals on line.  Mine is very simple:  If I didn't put it on line, it wouldn't happen.  And my ego isn't so tremendous that i think that that you not reading my daily issues would be such a huge tragedy, but I have this thing:  I think I'm pretty funny, sometimes.  See, I used to have a great many friends and a terribly boring job where i had all day access to a photocopying machine.  Since these two things occurred at the same time, I realized that an easy way for me to keep in touch with them was a newsletter which I dubbed CHEESE.  If you can imagine bobofett on paper and imagine me drunker & single and 5 years younger, that was CHEESE.  I started off only sending it to friends, about 20 people.  Noone was excluded from my mailing list, including people I saw every day.  Well, somehow, one of my friends sent a copy of CHEESE to someone else, and the next thing I knew, I was being flooded (a small flood, really. more like i was being rained upon, gently) with requests for subscriptions.   It rocked, up until the very moment I got FIRED from said job with close at hand copy machine.  (fyi:  using their copier, [and postage machine, if the truth must be told] was not the [only] reason I was fired.  that's a long, elaborate story that ended up a battle in unemployment court.  I lost.)  THEN I had all of these people (75+) with subscriptions (free, of course: it was a newsletter) wondering where CHEESE went.  Thank GOD for the www.  Though, really, CHEESE would look a lot better now, what with me being able to use photoshop and all.  I would have to pay for postage, though and that would suck big time.  SO, bottom line:  I kept a paper & pen journal until 1995.  Somewhere in there, I had a weekly journal-newsletter that went out to friends and fans.  IN 1995, I just stopped.  Cold turkey.  End of story.  I *have* written since then, but this is my big return to writing something that other people will see. And in case anyone is interested, yes, I still have copies of CHEESE laying around. Let me know you're interested and I'll see to it that you get a copy.

Tales of the Gym:

Believe it or not, despite my careful scrutiny, Bally's was sadly lacking in both cameltoes *and* in funnily clad people. The only even slightly amusing thing that happened happened in class. Two girls (there's my use of the word "girl" for women younger than me again. what an ageist snob I am!) walked in, one obviously a brand new member, the other slightly more familiar with how things were. The familiar one was showing the new friend different step moves. "THIS" she proclaimed importantly, "is a BASIC step...do it with me...BASIC STEP". This went on until the class started. The new friend did her best, was pretty lost, but tried. The familiar friend yelled, somewhere in the middle of class "No, you're doing it WRONG!! It's like THIS" and whatever the hell she started to show her didn't work because she FELL OFF THE STEP. It was pretty funny. Not that I'm the type of person to laugh when someone else falls down or runs into a door or anything like that. No sirree, bob.

Confession:

I think Bob Seger's "night moves" is a damn sexy song. ooo, baby. Also super sexy the new santana song "smooth". The guy sounds like he's panting in my ear, especially with the line: "man it's a hot one, like 7 inches from the midday sun" . I dont know who he is, but I like the sound of it. oh, my.

take me back to yesterday/bring me home/take the poll/go to tomorrow