January 21, 2000

Well, unless Keith calls me from work with news that something dire has happened, he's going on the trip with me this weekend. If he does call me with said news, I'm going to be a little upset. We'll see how it goes.

I pay way too much for nifty beverages. Does anyone but me remember those weird little drinks that came in a soda bottle, and had little polka dots of unknown composition floating in them? They were so weird. The idea was that you got two tastes in one bottle, because the drink itself tasted like one thing, and the floating dots tasted like something else. Charles and I tried it. We couldn't help ourselves. It was... pretty bad. No, horrible. Just horrible. If you ever see this stuff, avoid it like the plague.

I can't resist neat little drinks in cute packaging or whatever, though. Like this new stuff called "Whipper Snapple". It's basically a Snapple smoothie drink, and it's really overpriced. How many do I have in the fridge? Six. Yum, overpriced Snapple smoothie.

Ways the World Is Conspiring to Make Me Think I'm Fat

• The picture of Winona Ryder on this month's InStyle magazine. Every time I go to the grocery store, there she is, staring at me, all gamine and lithe. Shut up, Winona. I'm not looking at you. Quit staring at me.
• The way my jeans shrink when I put them through the dryer, so I go to get them out, and I'm like "Aaaaugh! Must.... lie....down....to....zip.....zipper..." and then I have to do like five minutes of deep knee bends to get them to stretch out to the right size again.
• When I go to the gym to use the weight machines and I sit down and try to use one and nearly pull my right arm out of its socket, and then I realize that the buff guy who used the machine before me had it set to "6", which is obviously an inhuman amount of weight to be lifting, and I sneakily look around to see if anyone is watching, and then surreptitiously put it back at "2".
• Shut up, Winona. I'm not even looking at you.
• The Gap. Man, what the hell? I used to love their clothes, and now I go in there, and all the clothes look like they were made for. . .well, Winona Ryder.
• I'm watching you, Winona. I mean, metaphorically watching you. Because I'm definitely not looking at you, so don't think I am. Shut up.

A neurotic annoyance. My window at work looks out onto the parking lot of the building. It's not a bad view, compared to my old office, because at least there's stuff going on. The old window looked out over a storage facility.

Anyway, there's a methadone clinic in the basement of our building, so all these whacked-out looking people are always wandering in and out of the parking lot. One of them drives a car that looks EXACTLY like our car. I mean, down to the dented-in fender and everything. It's the same damn car. So, every day, that car rolls up and I'm like "HOLY SHIT! One of the meth clinic people stole my car!" But then I remember that somebody down there just drives a remarkably similar car and I settle down. Then I go get coffee.

It's a good life.

THE FORUM: So, what are you doing this weekend?

MORE FORUM: People are still talking about penis padlocks.

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