September 10, 1999.

Is it just me, or is Trent Reznor getting fat? Last night's teevee performance reminded me powerfully of a gothed up version of Toronto media pundit Stuart Berman. (Stuart was my Arts & Culture Ed. at the Varsity 3 years ago...he was the one whom my friends attacked wearing black domino masks and bearing cheesecake... (note 1)

...I used to think he was cool, but now every time I read one of his articles in eye magazine, I feel that I've betrayed my better judgement by laughing.)

Another day in the life of a temp. It was pretty good, actually; whenever anyone was rude or simply oblivious to me, I just smiled & thought "I'll never have to swallow your shit after today." It made me happy with every repetition.

Spent a good long time on the phone to the Boy, trying to scheme a way to be together this weekend. This used to be a lot easier when he had a car...and when I didn't work through the weekend. Oh well. Three months & I'll stop accepting 6 day work weeks. I figure I need a good solid dose of temp work to remedy my recent apathetic depression: it's a lot harder to resign yourself to a go-nowhere office job when the wounds from such a situation are fresh.

Or maybe I'm just a masochist. Either way, I don't see the Boy & I spending even one night together until December. You have no idea how depressed that makes me.

Finally, I got the school thing sorted out. They're not even doing a proper interview or anything...I suppose they're just assuming that camp checked me out thoroughly, and therefore I probably won't slip free crack samples back with marked tests. As it stands, I'll be slipping into the school on my only free day...but I gotta tell you, it's so much more fun being in a junior high than in an office, I don't even mind getting up early that much.

Speaking of which, I'm on at 8 tomorrow, so I'm hitting the sack soonest. Thanks for listening and...goodnight.