date: 10.09.2002
entitled: "Ramblings and flings with Mike's Hard Lemonade"

In most, if not all, of my past entries, I have told a single story in each. And if I haven�t, I have tried to relate things, or tie them together somehow. Well, this time, I say FUCK IT. I just don�t feel like it.

I�m enjoying a Mike�s Hard Cranberry Lemonade, while my rabbit, Phoebe, hops around on the sofa, to Tom Waits songs. She seems to really like his music. I played Pixies for her before this, and she responded well to them, too. Joe and I received some great pictures of her from our friend Chris, who watched her when we went away this past weekend. Here are some samples:

I love Phoebe's hind left foot in the last one. Ahhh, she's such a character.

Ooof, our neighbors are cooking up something nasty! It smells like something deep-fried. Within the first month of their residence, I think they cooked every kind of meat available at the market. There was one night when I was convinced they had bought live fish, and scaled them inside their apartment � we burned through a lot of incense that evening. They are nice people, but they aren�t exactly the most interesting. Both financial consultants. Plthththlththlthth.

I keep compulsively messing with my bacne. Yes, you read it right, bacne. For those people with perfect complexions, this is a syndrome that makes summer bikini-wearing a real bitch. It is back acne. I haven�t had it in about 2 years, or so � not this bad anyway. I have a feeling my wonderful work place is causing it. We�ve had a deadline on this terribly boring project scheduled for every day for the past two weeks. HOWEVER, it keeps getting pushed back, because either the idiots I work under, or the client, can�t make up their fucking minds. I wouldn�t be surprised if the client was at fault, since it�s THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. We are redesigning a federal building in Podunksville, West Virginia, for which I have had to work late an overabundance for �tomorrow�s deadline�. Hmm, I thought a deadline meant that something was supposed to END. christ-on-a-bike. At least I don�t have acne on my face, though. Which makes me wonder, since I�m nearly 25: at what age does regular acne become �adult acne�?

Grrrrrrrrr.

song stuck in my head:

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