kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Almost 30 and not looking a day over ... well, 30. Tuesday. Two more days until I am thirty. I should enjoy it now. I should run out and do some really destructive, harmful things to my body. I should line fifty shots of tequila up on the bar and do them all (better yet, I should pour tequila into the belly button of some cute young bartender and do body shots). Instead ... I am going home tonight to clean my room and do sit ups and push ups (no gym for Ms. Lazy Ass). I have a 6pm meeting with a Client and then I am popping into Bebe to lust over all the clothes I can't afford (aren't I supposed to be financially secure after 30?!!?). Shit ... my bed is still a mattress on the floor (somehow I envisioned more for myself). I am then going to stop at Duane Reade and purchase the necessities that I have been avoiding: razors (hairy legs - yuck), cotton balls (sick of applying astringent with a wad of toilet paper), toothbrush (old one looking like some swamp creature gnawed on it), floss (pesky little food stuffs in the choppers), and tweezers (lost mine, eyebrows may well need a mower to beat them in to submission). Then home ... Yes, it is a glamorous life. Wednesday however is looking MUCH more exciting. Client meetings out of the office all day and then (the crowning glory). Gyno appointment. What a way to kiss my twenties goodbye! I am going off the pill. I figure I am mature enough to insert the UFO looking device in myself on a regular basis (uh ... diaphragm for all you not in the know). Last night Patrick looked at me lustily and said "Baby your breasts are HUGE". He didn't quite get the response he wanted. I started freaking out. Saying how I HATED having boobs and all this shit and how miserable and crazy it made me. I told him that the pill was making me cranky, bloated and feeling as if I constantly was going to puke. I mentioned the time I had the pleasure of taking TWO pills in one night (my fault - forgetfulness) and then spent until the wee hours of the morning with my head in the toilet. He looked all sorry and guilty and said he supported whatever it was I wanted to do (which at the moment was kick him). So ... to make a long story short, my boobs will soon be back to normal and life will be good. Oh - on the Atkins diet (I know, I know the ridiculousness does not escape me). Did you know EVERYTHING has carbohydrates? Did you know HOT SAUCE has 17 grams of carbs in 2 tablespoons?!!? Yuck. I suppose once I am over the hump (and off the pill) I can eat hot sauce again ... but bagels? Scones? I shudder to think. Day two and I am feeling full of gas ... I guess what they say about fiber is true. Thursday is my Birthday. We are going to Chez Ess Sada for dinner and then out to paint the town. I will go out with a bang damn-it. I took Friday off to re-coup. And Friday is the day I quit smoking. My little Birthday gift to myself. I am sure come Friday afternoon I will be so thrilled I made this decision. Having lunch with Birdie Friday so she will get the extreme pleasure of seeing me hung-over AND having a nic-fit. I am sure she is waiting with baited breath. But as bad as it all may seem, it could be worse (as my dear mother informed me this morning). She sent me an email with an attached picture of Satan (i.e. Jason H.) looking very much like a bloated whale. Nothing makes me happier than to see that he is wallowing in shit, misery, and apparently lard (I am petty I know). I of course showed everyone in the office. My favorite comment (when I told someone he used to run/jog): "The only place he is running is back and forth from the buffet". So true ... and to the bar for more shots of Glenlevitt. Heh heh. Hopefully God will not strike me down for such evil thoughts before I make it to my 30th year. Ta!
15:16:55 - 2000-10-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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