Feb 15 2004

fucking bitch blogger. work, damn you.

Feb 15 2004

I have been told, by the boy I refuse to mention (he has gotten too much web time already- it’ll swell his head), that an update is required. The thing is- there is pitifully little to tell. We are living in this horrible, expensive house with my sister and her son. We do most of the house work and get woken up at 2:30 in the morning by his screaming, but I love the little fucker. I now have him in my care every Sunday and I get paid $20 a DAY to have the priviledge. We do have fun; that’s the cool thing about being around kids- you get to act like one without looking TOO much like an ass.

I like my job, but the office politics are revolting. I usually try to hide myself in my office, but when you have a glass door it is only a matter of time before they hunt you down. It really leaves me with no energy to do anything but talk about work, bake fattening snacks and shop for custom checks. I feel so…american in this town.

I did have a nice valentines day, though. John and I took a walk downtown where he bought me a BEAUTIFUL dress and I bought him a haircut (fair, I think). Then we came home to phone calls from friends and I got to work on further alienating Otis (he should learn to just ask for John- don’t bother trying to talk to me anymore. I’m hopeless on the phone.) Then we visited with John’s family and bought steak and asparagus for dinner. I made french chocolate brownies for dessert. We sat and got fat together watching Monsoon Wedding and Run Lola Run. It was a lovely day.

I discovered the world’s perfect food- Mango sorbet(Mmmmmmmango). It is luscious and fat free. I think that, if god were still alive today, he would eat mango sorbet. (hey, that kinda rhymed!) So try it- god would.

Okay, I lied. I am going to talk about the boy of the hour, Mr. Josh Grahek. But I am going to ask the really hard questions. We will get some true answers here. Josh, I know the question we have all been too afraid to ask, but that I , as your friend, feel I have the right to is… what were you wearing?