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Feb
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Sight; No fucking flowers arriving for me, again. Taste; Bagel called the Cobbie, Cape Cod chips and a cherry coke. Try it at an Einstein Brother's near you. Touch; Jeans so tight I have a camel toe. Smell; Patch Oil.
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February
14, 2000 
Good afternoon, my groupies, all 7 of you, I'm writing after just having unbuttoned my top button because my little belly pooch belly held such POWER that it could no longer be restrained by puny denim and brass. I fell asleep last night while Adam was out fetching ice cream sandwiches, around midnight, during a storm, a bad storm, a tornado watch. That boy is determined to get his sweets after his smokes. You'd think he'd weigh more than me by the amount that he eats, but alas, he can wear my panties. Where am I, where was I? Back Fat took Thursday and Friday off last week, I could almost feel the average total body fat of our staff rise and soar. She has taken to wearing a jacket that carries an undeniable old woman smell. Not that cookies and milk with a little hint of vanilla and Benson and Hedges, OH NO! This is bacon grease and Marlboros, this is fried fish and tuna melt, this is house dust and body odor, but most of all, most of all it's this indescribable enveloping unhappy old woman smell. Because I sit so close to her, I am privy to her every thought and phone call. I think a few weeks ago she met someone online (I think that's where she meets most of her men) and they've been very much in love ever since. They talk on the phone and it's nothing but sexual innuendo and ooooooooh baby's. I've taken to eating in the lunch room if she's talking to him. This was up until last week, when she went crazy on him with a half hour of therapy madness and broke it off with him. This was the day after I heard her bragging on the phone about her kids saying their prayers and saying "thank you for bringing Charlie into our lives". I felt my heart break for those kids. Those poor over medicated children. They'll probably forget they ever met him soon, pills will do that to you.I realize now why she and Casa get to sit right next to each other. They are both perverts, and have nothing more constructive to do than make sexual jokes. Please, please, please, don't get me wrong. I savor a filthy joke. I like talking about sex. It's just that these people in particular make it seem like a subject coated in slime, only to be spoken about with leers plastered across their faces. Ever since the last time I had to be blunt with Casa, we've been great. I'm not someone to completely back off of an acquaintance that I HAVE to spend time around (I don't make the fucking seating decisions around here, I think they need someone with a degree for something like that). Nothing has changed between he and I, except that I made it clear that I loved my husband, and was not attracted to him. I even picked his weight gain whey bars up for him for christsake. So, last week, this man poked his head around the corner and had the huge goddamned brass balls to ask me... Hey, you want to grab some martinis and then watch some movies?" Me: Sorry, I'm going to see the baby after work. I completely lost my shit and had to leave because it was too funny, I couldn't stop laughing once I had a safe distance. Martini's and then watch some movies? Why didn't he just ask me to drop trough and bend over my ergonomically correct chair? I regaled Holly Hobby with the tale and she told me exactly what I knew. HH: This whole time he probably thought he was wearing down your resistance, priming you for the pump." Which caused another fit of laughter. What a piece of shit he is. Anyone with that much disregard for my marriage shouldn't have the nerve to look me in the eye. He might as well come spit on the picture of Adam I keep on my desk. (This just happens to be my favorite insult in the world, I'll sue if you steal it, but not really.) The best part of him ran down his mother's leg. But still, I refuse to change my behavior. I, in no way, prompt this. None whatsoever. I don't find myself attracted to him at all. He said he felt the chemistry between us (he also just walked behind me!), I had no clue, no fucking clue what he was referring to. Why should I have to be a different person because he's unable accept the fact that not every woman wants his attention? I'm not, and that 's all there is to it. Last night, after updating, I returned to "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" to finish the last 15-20 pages. Oh how I envy those with control over their red river hormones. Not me, uh uh. You see, my mother had given me the copy of this book and the basis of this novel is the relationship between Sidda and her mother. As I got closer to the end, there was a short paragraph that had been marked by my mother, for me. I can't quote it now because I'm toiling away, pretending to work, I'll return with that later. But it slapped me upside the face that this is what my mother thought she needed to communicate with me. I dropped the book and sobbed and sobbed and Adam got me a tissue because I needed to blow my nose. I never, ever, let people sniffle around me, nor snort. If you have snot, get it the hell out of your body. I told him I didn't want to blow my nose, and he nagged me like I relentlessly nag others. It's a pain in the ass to taste your own medicine. Proofreading that made Adam seem insensitive. Quite the contrary, he's exactly what I need at any given moment. I blew my nose. Onto the bigger and better. Also, less hormone intensive. My mother is giving me a domain name for Valentine's Day. I'm at a loss, can't think. I need...........a poll! Talk to me. Let me know what I should do, god knows I can't think for myself.
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