2004-06-03 - 2:17 p.m.
I�m going to whine now. If you don�t like it, get the fuck off my page.
There is an anger burning inside me. It�s like a heat in the center of my chest, and I have a feeling the only way to rid myself of it is to start bitch slapping people. Last night I finished my paper just in time to get to yoga, which I haven�t been able to do in a week. My Eastern European taskmaster was nowhere to be found, in her stead was a woman who wanted us to do stretching exercises. Fuck stretching, it�s for pussies. I left to do yoga at home, but Old Broken Jaw (formerly Birthday Girl) was inconsiderate, listening to loud music that fucked up my meditation. You may wonder, why didn�t you ask OBJ to turn it down? Because right before she turned it up, I told her I was going in my room to do yoga. So the bitch was obviously being an asshole. To chill myself out, I got in the hot tub for my nightly tete a tete with my boyfriend. Unfortunately OBJ had left the lid off in her drunken and/or high stupor, so the water was only as warm as a bath. Twat.
This morning, my optimism surfaced and I thought there was a 60% chance of this being a good day: until my comb fell in the toilet. Thank God it was a pissless toilet, but still, I hadn�t cleaned it in a week and a half, so it�s probably nasty. On the way to work, birds kept flying in front of my car in such an orchestrated manner it was like a goddamned divine symphony. I hate birds. They scare me, with their beady eyes, threatening beaks, and nasty little wingspans. I got to work and the shithole was the same shithole it was yesterday, Voldemort the Publisher was the same bitch she was yesterday, and my nipples are still like diamonds pushing through my shirt because she keeps it frigid in here. I looked at my planner (yes, I still use a Franklin because I�m too poor for a Blackberry. I�d rather blow my money on drinks, not gadgets) and saw that Toby Lightman is playing tonight at the TLA and I�ll be missing it because I have class.
Hmm, my meds must be off. How much Lithium was I supposed to take today? Perhaps I should�ve written this in my real journal. Whoops. At any rate, the only reason I can find to be happy right now is that Franz Ferdinand is coming to Philly in three weeks, a night destined to be a puker. That�s right, on June 19th I�ll be heaving up remnants of dirty girl scout shots to the most fun rock Great Britain has offered since The Darkness (who are played out now that everyone�s sweating the band�s collective balls).
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