March 12, 1999.

It seemed like everything today was delayed for maximum annoyance. Buses, food, my meeting with a Varsity reporter/friend to talk about last Tuesday's sex workshop...it all dragged on with no end in sight. Of course, I was hardly blameless in the snailish shuffle of irritation: I managed to miss 20 minutes of my 50 minute morning lecture, simply because the conversation I had with the Boy about John Candy as Divine was too absorbing to cut short in favour of John Keats.

I'm beginning to feel a vague guilty ache about this class. I really enjoy it (always have), but my slack-ass habits ensure that I keep sleeping through 10 a.m. classes. Quelle difficile.

What else? Is there anything else? I'm feeling run down as hell today...another Friday night in front of the teevee. Maybe I'll actually get some reading done...and maybe monkeys will fly out of your butt, you caustically reply. Well, you're probably right.

I'm sure it'll pick up on Saturday. Tomorrow night at Dirk's work (hey, that rhymes!), they're holding a LGBTOUT (lesbian gay bisexual and transexual out at the university of toronto) fundraiser involving drag shows, dancing and prizes. I found this out a couple of hours ago, when I complied with Dirk's rather mysterious request to "drop off my bondage gear to the Warden's office." When I gave over the swag, the giggling Warden told me exactly why she needed the fetish stuff...for a skit. Uh huh... All I could do was assure her that she shouldn't worry about wrecking the whip (it's already falling apart), and warn her to wrap up wrists before subjecting them to the handcuffs for any length of time...they're $4 toys, not expensive fetish gear, and they tend to hurt after awhile.

Yes, the exhibition never stops here at IPASOY...