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January 28, 1999.
Argh. It seems like today is
"make fun of my physical limitations day." Both Little Spider and my
dad have made insulting remarks about my perceived general lack of stamina
(LS also assured me that now that I'm on the pill, I'll gain weight
in the most unattractive areas. Thanks, girlfriend).
Now, I'm nothing if not out-of-shape.
I'll admit that freely. And the most exercise I've been doing lately
is carrying around my gym clothes in a hopeful spirit. But I really
don't think that everyone has to get in on the make fun of me action.
Can you tell that my over-sensitive
feelings are hurt?
I have very little to say now,
but luckily my bacon has been pulled from the fire...due to popular
demand (I almost wrote "poopular demnad"...I need to pay better attention
to my touch typing), I have a guest columnist with me today. Put your
hands together for...the Boy!!
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Amoret
reneged on her promise to serve up some quick-fry steaks, so
instead we've amused ourselves by speculating on the summer
ahead, given the scenario where we both find ourselves employed
as counselors at "Geek-Camp" (and both myself and Pixie Stix
are alumni so don't think I'm calling anyone names), while Amoret
complains of feeling bloated and lies on her futon in a fetal
position-hence my temporary assumption of journal duties. On
the positive (and less selfish) side, it seems her interview
for the counseling job went quite well, and being able to speak
to her has provided me with some decent mental crib-notes for
my interview on Saturday.
It will
be an interesting should we both find ourselves employed at
Geek-Camp...in that we will have to keep our relationship under
wraps not only for the duration of the camp in July, but also
the number of weekend training sessions and mixers leading up
to the camp. I have to say the concept is rather awkward (and
as any post-gamer misfit I'm all-too-boastful of being ensnared
in a meaningful relationship), but perhaps-as Amoret mused-we'll
get into a big fight just before the camp starts and we'll be
able to log a month of "apart-time" right when it's in our mutual
professional interests. Yeah, right.
I'm
certainly not interested into getting into any scraps with Amoret
right now. I'm emotionally fragile enough with seasonal-affective-disorder,
and besides, she's been reading a lot of Johnny the Homicidal
Maniac. The hardest parts of SAD are still ahead as well,
as an old college instructor noted: "February is the worst month
of the year, which is why it's only 28 days long."
But
enough of my scribbling, this isn't my space (and I think she's
putting JTHM down)...
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Oh, and by the way...I don't
construe "having a terrible digestive episode that made me significantly
late for the job interview" as maliciously copping out on steaks. But
I'm touchy in that way. G'night!
 
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