Oh God, oh God, Oh God.

Am back to Fish’s Freak-Out diet. How can once-lose and lovely pants fit this tight?! How? Hmmm…could be addiction to certain Vermont-produced ice cream. Or complete winter-weather-inspired immobility. But do not want explanations. Want colossal derriere to disappear and this… tummy to take off. When, oh when did yours truly get a tummy?

Can’t find your belly-button ring, can ya?
Oh, fuck off! I already know I’m in a really bad state of affairs.
How are those low-rise pants workin’ for ya today?
Not so well.
I see you’ve added a new sticky note to your monitor there.
Yes. “NO CHOCOLATE.”
I can read, thank you very much. I’m just wondering why you haven’t expanded it to all food items in general.
You’re such a bitch.
Well, this Inner Goddess can always fit into her jeans. You own yoga tapes. Use them.
I do.
Sure you do. But for holding up Seasons 1-3 of Sex and the City. I can see they’re really working out for you.
You know what?
Yes. I’m your interior monologue. I know all.
Then you know what’s coming.
Yes. And go on, if you must.
Hiiiiii-yah!
Don’t forget the hair toss and the smirk of satisfaction.
Done and done.

At least the feather boa still fits.
Indeed.

Do so love going out on a school night. Must be some sort of throw-back to days of UMF and the “live-under-my-roof-obey-my-rules” days. Now, do know that am not the only teen to have suffered from such ill logic in the growing up years, but UMF’s reign of control was particularly heinous. Fortunately, though, perfected art of sneaking out (and in) with great stealth. And for friends with equally difficult parents, perfected art of buttering up authority figures. Was quite good at it, if may say so. And not in Eddie Haskell sort of way. Could have taught that boy a thing or two about sincerity. Is huge difference between ‘buttering up’ and ‘laying on the cheese.’

Met galpal for dinner and cocktails at new neighborhood swank spot. Had giggly conversations centered around the usual galpal items of business, as well as serious talks about life, liberty and pursuit of J. Was v. good therapy.

Trudged home in snow and climbed into requisite hot bath just as phone rang. Was not J requesting time for much needed and important chat. Indeed not. Was UMF wanting to hear her daughter’s “cheerful voice.” Good thing was actually feeling cheerful. Was impossible not to. Was a few gin and tonics under, and in middle of v. warm, scented bath thinking happy thoughts about bedtime. Not even UMF and tragic stories of poison ivy and what “your sister did this time” could deflate. Luckily, was v. brief conversation.

This morning, however, woke to not-so-elated feeling after having horrid dream. Showed up at J’s place, knocked on door and horror or horrors, was opened by Whoring Co-worker, sporting sex hair and J’s pajamas. Calmly went in, retrieved favorite DVD from shelf and left. Needless to say, when woke, had handful of Hershey’s Kisses for breakfast. But only because am out of ice cream.

Most shocking thing has happened.

Have been upset with J over past quarrels and still somehow felt enormous attraction to him. Yet somehow, in the middle of current situation, find self not liking J. Not one little bit. A first. A breakthrough? Perhaps.

J: Less infuriated with me today?
H: Yes. Less infuriated. You know I’m no good at being mad.
J: Good. I hate having people mad at me.
H: YOU don’t like having people mad at YOU? Yeah, that’s rough. What about, I’m sorry I MADE you mad? Mmm hmm.

H: You know, for the first time, I don’t like J very much right now.
B: I’m not going to bash him, because I love him like a brother. But, I will say what’s going on right now is really fucked up.
H: Ugh. Yeah. Let’s talk about something else.
B: Ok… You know, I still think you’d get more readers if you started having an affair.
H: Yeah? With whom?
B: J’s roommate.
H: You or W?
B: How about both?! I think W would be down with it.

Ah, B. Makin’ the workplace environment inappropriate for yet another afternoon.

J: I still want to talk to you about this. I hate email tiffs and I think this is important enough that we need to talk about it.

Spent evening at home, watching v. burly-construction-worker-pretending-to-have-millions and digging peanut butter cups out of Ben and Jerry’s carton. Phone never rang. Assumed band practice ran late and would have v. important talk another day.

B: Did you talk to J last night?
H: No, I didn’t.
B: Boys are stupid.
H: This is why I can’t sleep with you, B. You’ll turn stupid. (opening email from J) Ugh! So, instead of calling me so we could work this out, J went to play cards and watch at movie with LeadSinger and his girlfriend. Good. Very good. Judo CHOP!
B: No, no. Go with the Vulcan neck pinch. Much more suitable for this situation.
H: But, wouldn’t karate chopping him in the throat be pretty cool? Did he mention our argument to you at all?
B: I saw him for about 4 minutes, long enough to say hi and that was about all.
H: Right. He was very busy playing cards.

Head is swimming in visions of Miss Piggy-like hiiiiiyah, delivered with painful accuracy. J would double over (a la Kermit, Gonzo or other Piggy victim), yours truly would straighten designer dress, smooth hair, and saunter off in pair of fabulous shoes.

Feather boa optional.

Am really no good at being angry. Is bad for sleep patterns, skin and overall general well-being.
Fully expected to be met with weak email apology first thing this morning. Got nothing of the sort.

Launched angry email sometime around noon.

H: I’ve never been anything but good to you and I deserve to be treated better. And if this is your way of letting me know you don’t care about me or our friendship, then you’ve made yourself quite clear.
J: Maybe I don’t know how to treat friends. I am very selfish and don’t deserve a friend like you if I choose to act the way I do.
H: So, that’s that, huh? And you know what? I REFUSE to believe it. Are you trying to push me away from you? If you don’t want me as part of your life, you need to be a man and SAY it.
J: No that’s not IT. Don’t be ridiculous. The absolute LAST thing I want to do in this world is upset you. Sometimes I don’t know how to handle a situation. I’d really like to talk about this face-to-face.

Of course you would. Then you don’t have to look up all the big words!
Oh, the anger!

Would this be an appropriate time to mention that in middle of J debacle, received a delayed email from this morning — containing one apology from J? Sent by him not three minutes before receiving scathing, “I hope you die” email from yours truly?

Dear God, this couldn’t be any better if it were scripted for the WB network. Look for it next season right after Charmed.

The truth: Sat on couch with roommate pouting, watching gawky-teenager-turned-princess-of-false-European-Nation flick. In bed shortly after 11.

Story that J will never hear: Oh, you didn’t call? I didn’t think you would and I was looking WAY too good to sit home and wait for a call that wouldn’t come. So, put on dancing shoes and headed out with gal pals to uppity downtown spot. Usually do hate those ex Harvard Business School sycophants, but so long as said men just sit there and look pretty (as well as dance), then are not so bad. Hmmm…could swear was wearing earrings at some point last night… Anyway, had the best time. Probably should not have had so much to drink, because don’t remember getting there, but somehow ended up at amazing south end loft. Personally, have not seen a hot tub that big since spring break in Fort Lauderdale. But boy, was certainly no problem filling it last night. Must have gotten over-heated, because next thing that can remember is waking up on v. soft, black leather couch wearing man robe and one spikey-heeled shoe, thinking, “Where is my roommate?” Don’t worry — found clothes v. easily and was taken home by nice smelling financial genius in BMW before the cocaine really got out of hand. V. thoughtful of him, right? Glad he handed over his card, too… will be v. helpful when comes to doing taxes.

Six hours and fourteen minutes.

Bastard.

One hour and forty-eight minutes ago, rang J who was “not sure about tonight” and would ring me back as soon as had settled on some plans. Yours truly had suggested going to see mutually agreed upon movie if no bigger plans were in the works. J said he’d call when he knew. Now am wondering, if do exist some bigger plans, am I to be included? Ah, the mysteries of life. Have watched just one too many episodes of Sex in the City to let such things go by without over-examining and making complete neurotic mess of self.

Does one bother to get all dolled up when phone call might be along lines of, “Yeah, so, I’m hanging out with the boys tonight.” Translation? “You’re not invited because we are going to go get smashed at a swanky bar and hit on girls with fake breasts.” Fair enough.

Yet, have already blow-dryed hair and sought out appropriate outfits. Plural. One movie-acceptable and one competing-with-fake-breasts-acceptable. Am now reaching for velcro rollers.
One hour and fifty-four minutes.
Call me.

Am sick *cough, cough*

Am also, unfortunately, out of sick days at wonderful place of employment. Suppose should be learning lesson that one must not use sick days for such activities as travel, errands and staying-at-home-in-bed-reading-Cosmo. But, would have to take time off for learning such lessons, and well, as have just said, that is an impossibility.

As was late, due to inability to pry self from warm bed, missed normal bus and ended up on same one as Beautiful Bus Boy. Oh dear god. Yours truly was sans makeup, puffy-eyed and wet-haired. BBB was as ridiculously good-looking as had remembered.

Why didn’t you call him?
Not now. Please don’t make me kick myself before 9 AM. I don’t have the energy.
You want me to wait a half hour? I can come back?
Nah. Why postpone the inevitable?
So, let me get this straight. This gorgeous boy in front of you — don’t make eye contact! you look hideous–
Thank you.
No prob. He asks if he can call you. You say no. He gives you his number and you do what with it?
Nothing.
Right. And why?
I don’t know.
I do.
Enlighten me.
J.
Well, shock me, shock me, shock me. For an Inner Goddess, you’re really not all that insightful.
Some thanks.
Thank you, Captain Obvious. You saved the day… again.
Get off.
What? Is that like ‘fuck off’, only in Inner Goddess talk?
No. This is your stop, dummy. Get off the bus.
Oh.

Nancy Reagan would not be proud of lack of Say No To Drugs willpower on night of seasonal extravaganza, though am thinking that should have paid more attention to her, as result of said lack of abstinence resulted in chemical mishap and v. long, sleepless night.

J Bought little white pills under information that they were of the mood-elevating sort. But were not. Were instead, of the methamphetamine family. For a gal who does not drink coffee as it causes the jitters, was a somewhat irritating experience. Of course, had marvelous time dancing to endless techno at crowded downtown club, but when dancing was done, could not quite convince body that was time to sleep. In fact, have still not slept more than 2 hours since Tuesday.

At least got decent midnight-hour J kiss. Night was as predicted, nookie-free. But did get some quality spooning time.

On pain of sounding tragically sentimental, am huge fan of watching J sleep. And since night was completely sleep-free for this gal, had plenty of time to do so. Would, however, have to be discreet and close eyes v. quickly as J would wake from time to time and check to see if yours truly was okay (body cramping, chills and night sweats being part of chemical mishap fun). Am certain J would develop some sort of phobic reaction if thought that yours truly had developed any overly goofy behavior of the above sort. But cannot help it. Have always thought him to be quite gorgeous.

Left work early, got a manicure and spent rest of v. frigid Monday evening doing absolutely nothing productive. Had intended to clean dismal mess of a bedroom, but ended up in hot, salty bath considering ending of one v. strange, tumultuous year. Rollercoasters have never really been a thrill for yours truly, but seems as though have spent the last 365 days riding one.

January: Meet, fall for and get dumped by J.
February: Get Pneumonia. And Strep. Vicodin, please?
March: Find the lump.
April: Thirty-seven days after initial discovery, the lump is extracted.
May: J comes back. Sits on fence. “Patience is a virtue,” begins to take on new meaning.
June: UMF runs away to London to join circus.
July: Stand in rain for forty minutes, being stood up by J. Vow to cut him out completely. Yeah, right. NACF goes back to the bottle.
August: Discover NACF’s cheating ways. Bring Reluctant Kitten home; discover am horrible kitten mother.
September: Spend twelve v. long days sequestered with UMF in Europe. Film remains undeveloped. J begins Whoring Coworker saga.
October: NACF hospitalized. Horrid breakdown in J lane. Am told, “I’m sorry I don’t love you.”
November: Robbed in New York. Parents announce separation and subsequent divorce.
December: SAS substance abuse scare.

Am actually quite glad to bring an end to the year. What drama! Must admit, though, have never felt more like living, breathing human being than in midst of all above uncharacteristic excitement. Have been through hell’s fire but have realized that remain remarkably and relatively unscathed. Feel somewhat proud. Have not sought professional help (though, perhaps should), have not even adopted habits any more self destructive than obscene addiction to Ben and Jerry’s. And so now, have really only one thing to say as I welcome in the New Year and all it could possibly have in store:

Bring it.

Weekend? What weekend?

Took yet another day off and spent good part of Friday and Saturday in v. cold out-of-state location with visiting San Diego Pal. After long ride back, was ready to settle in to v. comfortable bed with new Cosmo magazine. Pathetic? No way. Said issue of Cosmo had bedside astrologer. Crucial information for coming new year. Had made v. tentative “might see you” plans with J and was actually quite surprised when cell phone rang and was invited to join for evening of drinking and dancing at downtown swank site. Was in state of shock over invite because not only is J somewhat of a flake in “might see you” follow through, but also over entire array of J behavior that evening. Am not sure whether was Blood Alcohol Level or intoxicating scent of new perfume, but am fairly certain have not experienced the wonder that was flirtatious J in many moons.

D: Oh, leave your hair down… it’s very pretty.
H: Ok… thanks, D.
J: She is beautiful, isn’t she?
H: (jaw dropping) Wow… thank you.
D: You really are.
J: Yeah, you’re very beautiful.
H: Stop, I’m blushing!

Do not think J has paid yours truly compliment of that sort since first date nearly one year ago. Was even more shocked when J displayed out of character, couple-ish behavior when leaving dance floor to get another round of drinks, planted kiss on forehead and swatted my tush. Did not bother questioning. Rather, simply took it all as good omen that would be spending rest of evening enjoying more of said activities. And did, indeed.
Had enormously good time dancing with J, his galpal D, and B. Sir Mix-a-lot seemed to strike chord with B who made fans of many a lady while shakin his not-so-big butt. Was ever so entertaining.

Spent entire day after torturing J in hungover state, quoting Crank Yankers with B at regular intervals.

H: Batman.
B: Gotham City.
J: Ugh! Why’d you get him started again? You stop, but he keeps going!
B: Batman?
H: I missed it! He was being too quiet… I got worried.
B: He lives in a lair.
J: Oh god.
B: I’ll track him down with all of my hatred.

Am so looking forward to New Year’s Eve celebration. Though, have no clue what to wear. And suppose it actually matters, as will be long evening and will probably remain fully clothed as B has warned that J will be too intoxicated for clothes-shedding activities.

Bother.

Well, good morning, v. cute sanitation engineer! Seems so much nicer than calling lovely Monday morning vision “garbage man.”

Spent v. nice Christmas day with Concerned Roommate and extended family. Nearly cried, though, in middle of enormous package opening extravaganza when there was a gift from her mother for yours truly. Sat stunned for several seconds and made v. valiant attempt not to be too affected. Was unexplainably touched.

Evening was cut short by finally-arriving snowstorm. Yours truly became designated driver. But as have much experience driving in blizzardy conditions, was happy to have the job instead of slightly intoxicated roommate. Felt v. adventurous driving home under downed powerlines. How v. thrilling.

Am desperate!

Must lose 15 pounds in five days (so as to pull of New Year’s Eve get-up) and achieve clear, glowing skin (currently look like am suffering from Leprosy) in same short time period. Wonder if diet consisting of water and… water will achieve necessary results in time?

Oh god. How did this happen???

Am spending morning in v. warm bed, tossing ratty mouse-like toy with Reluctant Kitten and being v. glad am not at work. Concerned roommate and self have called in “sick” on this fine, pre-holiday morning to do nothing more than lay around, make candy and listen to Elvis’s Christmas album. Day well spent. Indeed.

J came by last night. Did not stay. What good is having fuck buddy if will not stay around to… well, hang out.

Very Calm Brother has given his full permission for yours truly to blow off holiday fun. Said Christmas would always be the time when the family fell apart and that should just wait until unspoiled holidays for celebration. Like Flag Day.
Received one (1) gift from family, which am currently wearing. Yes, did open present before actual day celebrating v. strange, yet miraculous birth of earthly deity. Four hours early, in fact. UMF was set on getting yours truly v. thoughtful (music lessons — but let’s face it, am no Joni Mitchell) and or complicated (printer/scanner/copier combo) gift, but all that could think about was big, white, thick robe from Victoria’s Secret. When gift arrived, and could see tell-tale pink box, knew had won the Christmas Gift battle.
J did not understand.

J: So, I get it. Right. You wanted a robe instead of a printer/scanner/copier. Remind me why?
H: My mother does not give generous gifts to make you feel good. She gives them so she can hang it over you remind you that you’re obligated to her for your well being. I’d rather have a bathrobe and get to speak my mind. Get it?
J: Well said.

Indeed. Besides, did really, really want this robe. And now, as have just spent last hour cuddled on couch with RK, and those lovely Gilmore Girls, am v. glad that do not have a printer/scanner/copier, as they come with too many directions. The robe came with one: Wear.

Ahhh. Heaven.

J: I’m sorry I didn’t call back yesterday. I got caught up at my aunt’s, and then forgot. Sorry.
H: *gasp!* You…forgot me?
J: Ugh… Why am I so stupid? Oh wait, don’t answer that!
H: Would you like that in list form, or essay? Oh…don’t answer that. Gotcha. Hey, can you swing by after band practice? I have gifts for you and B and I don’t think I’ll see you before Wednesday.
J: WHY did you get me something!?
H: Um, the voices said to? Because it’s Christmas, silly. It’s not a big deal.
J: But I’m broke and my gift may be lame, if existent at all! And you do so much for me, or to me already!
H: (laughing) to me… awesome. Seriously, not a big deal. Don’t make me say it again. You want me to give it to a street person instead?
J: Okay. How’s this: after the holidays, I have a gift certificate to one of the finest restaurants in the city. We will go.
H: That would be lovely. But that is not how it works. You don’t “owe” me anything, silly. When the Wisemen brought Jesus all that Frankincense and stuff, he didn’t have to take ‘em out to dinner.
J: Yeah, only He gave them everlasting life!

Indeed. Care to take bets if aforementioned dinner actually happens? 2 to 1 it doesn’t.

Cannot get J to return my phone calls, yet can get his mother to send me mail. Indeed.

Curious thing.

Was surprised to get real, non-bill mail in box yesterday afternoon. Two real pieces. Just for yours truly. Was delighted! Got holiday card from foreign-based friend and card from J’s mother with pictures from Thanksgiving. Is that pre-nookie glow or my over-active imagination? Am happy to note that look acceptable in all three photographs and v. sweet note says she hopes to see me again soon.

Yes, would like that as well.

Have just woken from the strangest dream.

Am standing in hallway being hugged by UMF and her mother and father (bizarre point #1: are NOT huggy people)
Am wearing satin wedding gown clearly in need of alterations. (bizarre point # 2: even in dreams am not able to fill out bust of gown).
In walks J and am suddenly am v. aware of fact that have told these people that am getting married to J in not-too-distant future, but have not told J. (bizarre point #3: this does not phase J in the least)

Have own theories as to meaning of dream, but would love to hear input.

Concerned Roommate was kind enough to forward today’s horoscope and must say, am less than thrilled. When opening line of cosmic future predictor read that should consider today as good as is going to get for coming year, felt like bludgeoning self with nearest sharp object.

H: No! I look disgusting! I’m completely exhausted! This can’t be as good as it gets. Not for a whole year!
CR: Well, it hasn’t really started yet. Could get better.
H: I’m going to have Ben and Jerry’s for breakfast. I must take control of my own fate.
CR: That a girl!

Have still not quite recovered from mid-week cheap wine, midnight romp extravaganza. Celebrations of that sort are never consequence free, and this week’s seem to be two-fold: this crippling exhaustion, and the following email from J’s roommate, B:

B: Thin walls, ya know. Have some respect. *wink*
H: *gasp!*
B: You mean, *moan*
H: B! Ok, let’s talk about something else! Nice call on dress #1, by the way. I’m still getting compliments on it, and it’s home crumpled up on my floor.
B: Or J’s room on the speakers.
H: I put it on his book shelf, thank you very much.
B: I’m just teasing. I’m probably jealous. He is getting more than me — just knockin ‘em!
H: Please do not bring up the other girls he’s “knockin,” as you so nicely put it. I’m still a girl, B. I can deal with sex for the sake of sex, because I know it doesn’t change anything between us and it’s fun. But I don’t want to know about the others. Capiche?
B: I mean bustin balls, knockin ‘em together… Don’t let him fool you — he is no stud! He’s not fooling around.
H: Hmm…graphic!
B: Let’s be serious. I know that he is not messing around.

Indeed.

Am slightly hung over… and thus do not feel much like writing. But will say:
Company holiday party went off rather nicely. Got so many gushing compliments on dress #1 that felt like film starlet for entire party. Ended up ducking out early with J and going to his place to watch favorite film.

Was a v. nice sleep over.

Received notice from IT that would be advisable to empty email of any unnecessary messages (ie not work related) as user folder is reaching “Full” status. On examination found that inbox contained the following number of unnecessary items:

206 from J (over last two weeks) consisting of movie quoting, flirting, one argument and one apology. (Will hold onto apology)
73 from Concerned Roommate on status of dreaded Christmas gift purchase for new boyfriend.
9 friendly reminders about company Christmas party (promptly deleted)
2 not-so-friendly reminders that Visa bill is late this month. (deleted and paid)

Inappropriate Email string of the Day:

J: YES!!!! You got one!!!! (referring to my finally-correct quoting of Crank Yankers call)
H: Yay! Do I get a prize?!
J: Yeah, you get me to NOT slap your ass…
H: Sheesh! That’s the last time I quote something right! I said prize, not punishment.
J: Oh, it’s like that, huh? Okay, I will keep spanking then. You know that is my ultimate weakness. I have to physically control my urges to slap women in the ass!
H: I think it’s why they’re padded more nicely than boys’. For smackin’. A good spanking can really make the day worth while.
J: Mmmm, spanking…..
H: Yes. I concur. There should be more spanking. Daily requirement or something.
J: I can’t be expected to adjust this account thousands of dollars, when I can’t get your ass out of my head…
H: Well, just try to think of something else! Like, hair pulling…
J: NOT HELPING!!!!

Have spent better part of the afternoon pestering B about which dress to wear to company holiday party. The tight one that reveals holiday pounds added to already-generous backside, yet exposes killer collarbones? Or feminine one which reveals possible back rolls, yet downplays any extra hippage?

B: I say dress number 1.
H: Even if it’s tight on the tush?
B: Me, I like ‘em tight.
H: But I mean tight… like I have probably put on too much weight to carry it off…
B: Stop. You are not overweight.
H: No, I’m not. Maybe 7 pounds past my summer weight. But that’s just a little more J-Lo than I’d like to look in my dress. I think I need a B Mirror in my room. You know, like in Snow White? B, B on the wall, does this make my ass look small?
B: H, H, on my floor, no, you don’t look like a whore.
H: Uh, thanks B. (shaking head)

Am not feeling quite right.

Happens from time to time, when either cosmic forces or brain chemicals are not aligning properly. Feel v. suddenly isolated at thought of spending holiday away from family members. As member of five-sibling clan, quiet Christmas morning will feel v. v. strange, am sure. Would prefer to spend said jolly time at home, feeling adequately sorry for self and/or pretending is not holiday at all, rather mid-week sick day or some such break from work. Would rather skip over the day altogether. However, Concerned Roommate said will not allow such wallowing and has insisted that yours truly join her family for the holiday. Am v. hesitant.

Spent lovely dinner with Concerned Roommate and her mother last weekend and had to leave table when found self overwhelmed with own misery in company of v. gracious and hinged mother figure and v. in-love roommate. Had quick cry in ladies room stall before returning to candle lit table.

GalPal has self clawing at face over new, excited, giddy state of being enamored with new-found love potential. While am deliriously happy for well-deserving friend and do not begrudge her this Miracle on 99th Street, am wearing horrid shroud of self pity and, if am honest, jealousy. Green is NOT good color on this unnatural blonde.

Perhaps simply need more sleep. Or warm bath. Indeed. Will do just that… in 8 hours. Silly monkey job.

Perhaps am wearing sign on back of sweater which says, “Am v. v. self conscious about hair-lightening disaster, please comment at will.” After running Comment Gauntlet, have decided to hide in office for rest of v. long, snowy day.

Comments received thus far:

“How’s it going, Blondie??”
“Brighter is better, I say.”
“Oh my, I almost didn’t recognize you! It looks great!”
“You look stunning!”
“What did you do to your hair? It looks gray! Now I know what you’ll look like at 40.”
“It’s not bad.”
“What’s your natural color?”
“It’s kinda like Jennifer Aniston’s when she went through that super long hair phase. Remember?”

Uh, yes. Do indeed remember. Are you saying that am in need of a haircut as well?? Was also expressed opinion of over-talkative hairdresser at pricey salon. So, yes, am aware that Little House on the Prairie-esque locks are not highly fashionable in this century, but if Jennifer Aniston can get away with it, why not this gal? Ok, silly question. Is married to Brad Pitt and thus excluded from all ridicule as has achieved goal worthy of all merit. That is why. Is true that contemplate lopping off hair every time it gets stuck small hooks while fastening bra, but am fearing would face some drastic separation anxiety if indeed went through with it. Besides, T (v. charming hairdresser at said salon), walked by yours truly, doubled back, ran fingers through pre-disaster hair and said,

“Beautiful hair! It’s very difficult to keep hair that long so healthy and shiny! Especially colored hair! It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Just gorgeous.”
“Thanks (blushing).”

Perhaps pre-color catastrophe nullifies T’s praise, but am still not getting it cut. Would miss looking like Laura Ingalls. Getting it swatted at by terrorist RK. Or getting it pulled during rowdy… um, well, ahem. Indeed.

As have reached another 5K visits on fishblog, will once again celebrate by ritualistic list-making.

10 Phrases Uttered by Yours Truly this weekend:

1. Oh my god, I’m blond.
2. It IS as tiny as you’ve heard.
3. But half an ass is better than no ass at all!
4. Me-ow!
5. I love you.
6. Touch it.
7. You don’t like us talking about vibrators because suddenly you feel so unnecessary.
8. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.
9. If he buys your drink, you have to kiss him.
10. Every pair of my jeans shrunk.

Went to bed irritated. Woke up irritated. Would think that somehow, in 6 hours of sleep, would have some miraculous recovery of attitude. Nope. Didn’t happen. What did happen upon waking, was repeated pushing of snooze button and growing aggravation of having to get out of warm bed and scoot self off into cold morning to place of employment. Not happy.

(Grumble. Whimper.) Fuck!
I swear, if you’re late for work again…
I’m beginning to think you’re no Inner Goddess at all. More like Inner Bitch.
Any reason we’re so crabby this morning, Sunshine?
Could be that had THE most frustrating, unresolved disagreement with J yesterday. Could be that I seem to have put on 37 pounds in the last two weeks and my pants won’t fit. Or, could be that I just am reserving the right to be uncharacteristically foul-tempered today. That okay with you?
PMS.
Excuse me?
We both know that’s what this is.
Then, shouldn’t I be allowed to crawl back into bed and sleep until my clothes fit and the world makes sense again?
Funny how it doesn’t work that way. Now, put some angry girl music in your Discman and go to work.
Bossy.
Go to work.
Go to hell.
After you, Princess.