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( Friday, Nov. 22, 2002 1:08 am )

>Seeking: feckless schoolboy with tousled hair and girlish features

Oh dear. I feel really sad for two reasons. One is that I've been slacking on my NaNo snovel and probably won't break 30,000 words tonight, and two is that I live a life that won't even support like a two paragraph diary entry. I've got nothing today, folks, but let's see what I can dig out.

Ooh I know. Today I had a really good day. Here's what I did: obsessively fixed up spots on the kitchen paint job with a small art-type paintbrush, and then obsessively cleaned the entire house. The mailman rang the bell while I was doing this, and while usually I hurtle myself down three flights to sign for packages, today I declined because I was wearing my alluring painting outfit, which consists of a T-shirt, shorts, and (this is the trouble here) white knee socks pulled all the way up. This outfit is too outlandish even to be beheld by the mailman. Juney called up in the afternoon as she's begun doing now to shoot the shiznit while she's waiting to castrate a mouse or some other sciency type deal and we discussed the hot science geek's Europeanness (he is, but not obviously, and no one seems to be clear for how long he's been in-country). And then for dinner I made me and the Junebug some chicken fajitas which were pretty darn good. We watched Conan while we ate, and I was saying something about making out with him(the usual), and Juney commented that she thought Cony looked like my dad (gross), and we had the following conversation:

Me: Well, when I'm on Conan I'm going to be making out with him and then you'll be sorry you didn't come with me.

Her: Well, I'll just be making out with your dad.

Me: So a disturbing evening all around then?

Then Friends, because I have to, and ER, because I enjoy ogling the praiseworthy bone structure and unkempt hair of Dr. John Carter. Throw a suit and tie into that mix and I am incapacitated with lust.

Tomorrow night Juney is babysitting Landlady Ellie's deeply adorable baby (coincidentally possessing really wonderful unkempt hair, and like, you know, baby-type bone structure), so I'll get in some theraputic babyhead-sniffing time. Which is good, but I hate to miss out on the opportunity to be in the dark, inhaling secondhand smoke and drinking lager in a crowd of geeky boys. But no! No! NOVELING! Must write!

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