If I don't stop looking at pictures of Anthony Stewart Head on last week's episode of Buffy, I may never accomplish anything.

Damn him for being so gorgeous!

Blogger, blogger, on the wall... Why is my baby sister prettier than me??? Why???

Funnily, K and I have almost the identical haircut now. Hers is a far better color than mine, thanks to Clairol. I know how to fix that.

In other news, Will, Jenn, Geoff and I started a Deadlands campaign yesterday. I am already sad and depressed, less than 24 hours later, because we're not playing. I think I am starting to understand why so many AD&D geeks are such losers. Poor things - I feel your pain!

Yesterday I went to the Buzz Stop. It's a hair place. I was hoping, based on the name, that they also sold coffee, but alas, no.

Anyway. I went there because my hair was a disaster, and I got paid.

I was planning on growing it into a Louise Brookes style bob (shorter than I always used to keep it, but longer than it was yesterday), but it really needed something done to it in the meantime.

So my hairdresser's name was London. Yes, I know. London. He was this oddly straight dude with a strange, hip attitude. (I think. In all honesty, though, I wouldn't know hip if it smacked me in the face.) I explained the trouble. He looked at my head. A lot. He then uttered the devilish phase, "I wish you would let me give you a pixie cut," and proceded to describe a sort of updated pixie cut which would involved straightening my hair and kinda spiking it a bit.

I argued, but was weak. I told him that if I hated it he'd get no tip. He cut. He styled.

I look fabulous.

I love Will.

Life is good.

I love my UPS man! A little while ago the doorbell rang. (I live in an apartment. This was the apartment door.) I figured it was the building manager, who was supposed to send an electrician by weeks ago. Will called him earlier.

It wasn't.

It was the UPS driver, with a package for me! My name wasn't on the board downstairs, so he'd tracked me down! He was cute too.

Life is good. John sent me movies and candy.

I think I'm going to be ill if I don't stop laughing hysterically like this.

After posting at the Watcher's Diary, asking* people to use spoiler tags if they were going to discuss the current season of Buffy, I have received more replies than any other post I have ever made there.

Here are a few examples of the comments from morons who do not quite understand what an "established board member" is:

So, you're 24 and can't express yourself without resorting to profanity?!
That's not something most people would brag about.

About the spoilers, I agree with your sentiment, just not the pathetic way you expressed it.

*********************************************************

You have some serious anger management. I don't like non tagged spoilers either,
but it's no need to fly that word around a public forum. I don't care how old you are. Darling.

The second one got deleted, which is too bad, because it made me laugh. Oh well.

*cussing at them

Goddamn it. I am trying to look at girl-on-girl-on-girl softcore porn, and while the smoochies are shown in the thumbnails, everything good is cut from the full-sized photos.

Now I am sad.

ZOMBIES!!!

I wrote a movie today.

I was just in the bath for an hour and a half. I feel remarkable.

I read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, exfoliated, shaved, washed, and relaxed. Suddenly, nothing seems too much to handle. (Except for the jeans I tried to squeeze myself into afterwards. I got them on, but may have to cut myself out of them...)

She said - he said

I want nice things, a nice home. He wants more movies.

I want to get married and have a family. He wants to have a career.

I worry about the future. He worries about now.

I save instruction manuals. He saves...actually, I cannot think of anything important he saves.

I like fleshy geek girls. He likes plastic girls.

I want to go out. He wants to stay in.

Maybe we aren't meant to be together.

Things are better today. Not 100%. Not yet. Maybe 50%. But still, better. I'm smoking, though - that's bad. What's worse, I lit a cigarette while typing that.

In other news, I made a friend today.

In still other news, I have decided that I wish to be a Suicide Girl.

To anyone who is worried about me: I am fine. Thank you for caring, and for your offers of support.

I just wish he would come home
and everything would be all right
and pretend that nothing
ever happened last night

A Woman's Life and Love

Since I first saw him, I think myself blind
I look around me, and it's only him I see
His image floats before me,
So gentle and so kind, he has got a clear mind and firm courage
o ring upon my finger, little golden ring
devoutly I press you to my lips and to my heart
sisters come adorn me, banish foolish fear
twine upon my furrowed brow
the blossoming myrtle
I serve him and live for him
Belong wholly to him
Give myself and find myself transfigured by his brightness
Ring upon my finger, little golden ring
Devoutly I press you to my lips and to my heart
The blissful dream of childhood has ended
Now I drink delicious death with you my love
Now you have me caused me my first pain � that really hurt.
You sleep, you hard cruel man, the sleep of death
The veil falls, the bell tolls, the black shawls, the carriage rolls
You, my whole world.

Pathetique

I bear no grudge, even though my heart may break
Eternally lost love, I bear no grudge
Though you're shining in your diamond splendor
No ray of light falls on the darkness of your heart
I've known it well for a long time
I bear no grudge.
Ich grolle nicht
und wenn das Herz auch bricht
Ewig verlornes Lieb!
Ich grolle nicht.
Though you're shining in your diamond splendor
No ray of light falls on the darkness of your heart.
I've known it well for a long a time
I bear no grudge.
I saw you in a dream, I saw the darkness in your heart.
I saw the snake that feeds upon your heart
I saw my love how utterly wretched you are
I bear no grudge, I bear no grudge
I'm over you, so come on back to me O.K.?

What is it about alcohol? It makes people into entirely new people, ugly, violent people. And I am afraid that maybe that is the real person, uninhibited.

In other (totally related) news, I was given two packs of cigarettes last night by a Camel promoter. What is it about misery that makes me want to kill myself?

Crap. Fuck. Hell, damn, shit.

I am addicted to FreeOpenDiary. I've been reading stranger's diaries all evening.

Please kill me now.

There is nothing better than a grilled cheese sammy. I made them with pepper jack cheese and sourdough bread, and we ate them with ketchup, and it was dee-licious.

I really do not understand my friends.

That is all.

Thank you for visiting sprintpcs.com. We are currently upgrading our Web site to enable our customers to take full advantage of PCS VisionSM. Learn more about PCS VisionSM.

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I rest my case.

Grrrrrr. I never do my best thinking in the morning, particularly when taken unawares. As I got out of the shower just now, my cell phone rang. I haven't used my phone much in months, for a few reasons: 1. it still has a Chicago phone number; 2. the phone itself is large and unwieldy; 3. I cannot make sense of my call plan and don't want to be charged for peak minutes.

So I answered the phone this morning, because I thought the caller ID said it was John. What I forgot is that last night I'd used the address book feature to double-check his number, and hadn't cleared the display. I also forgot that he'd be at work. [rolleyes]

It was Brandi, or Sandi, or something, from Sprint. She wanted me to know about my outstanding bill of $229.54. Now, I know my bill is past due, but two hundred dollars? Inconceivable. She said that she was calling me to have me pay over the phone by check or credit card. I lied and told her that I didn't have my wallet or checkbook with me. In actuality, they were (and still are) across the room, but there is no money in my account. And by 'no money' I really do mean no money. In fact there is approximately negative $1500 in my checking account. Stupid overdraft.

I told her that I couldn't pay over the phone. I told her that I had been trying to pay online, but unable to get onto the members area of the website*. This part was absolutely true. She said the site must be down. I said, "For the last two months?" She said that in that case I could pay over the phone. I told her, somewhat incredulously, that I did not have my checkbook or wallet. She asked if I had paid over the phone before, informing me that they would still have the credit card info. I'm sure that's illegal, but all I said was that there was no balance on that card, which is perfectly true. She said that I could pay over the phone or at a Sprint Store. I, having no idea what a Sprint Store is (I've since figured out what she meant - I was flustered, but I'm not stupid), told her that I would surely do that. I eventually got her off the phone by hanging up on her.

I hate Sprint PCS.

Now excuse me while I go try, again, to get onto the website so that I can find out what I'm being charged for. Bastards.

*I ceased being able to access the site immediately after I chose to receive no paper bills. I am extremely suspicious that this may be a conspiracy on the part of Sprint PCS, and possibly the government as well, to get my money.

Beth and I are too cute. We have requested matching titles at the Watcher's Diary, though no one will know it to look at them. Mine shall be candy lithium and hers what a dream life would be, both lyrics from Tea & Thorazine by Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire.

[edit] I suppose it would be helpful of me to note here that we already have matching avatars, signatures, and bios. We are dorks.

Note to self: stop trying to interpret the lyrics to Oh! The Grandeur, and just read the liner notes.

Dear Will,

If I read Mike's post correctly, he and Vicki are arguing over what to frivilously spend their monetary wedding gifts on. Like, for example, booze. Now do you want to get married?

[rolleyes]

After some research (i.e. playing the CD) I have come to the conclusion that I do not like Rasputina. I thought I would, because I enjoy listening to strings, but they are either over- or under-produced, or possibly just lacking in talent, and also I hate their arrangements. "Why Don't You Do Right" is one of those songs that should be impossible to ruin, but they somehow succeed.

In other news, I think I am having an online affair with Christine. She is from Germany, and very pretty. Currently she is in Charlotte, NC, and I am plotting ways to get her to the west coast.

As a much-needed break from my C&Ping of MSN chats, a series of Buffyguide private messages:

[me] Come have sex with us!
Will is wearing chilli pepper pajamas, and I am wearing a tight leopard-print skirt and tank top. We are seeeeeexxxxxxxxy.

[Beth] Damnit! You know I so would have sex with you! Stupid Indiana being so far away.

[me] I find it interesting that you named Indiana, the state you are currently in, as being the far away one. Clearly your [heart] is already in California with me. That, or you forgot where I lived.

[Beth] You know... that's a really good point. I think my heart is in CA.

[me] Will: You're going to leave me for Beth.
Me: Well, she is taller than you...By my calculations, that puts me at boobie level.

[Beth] Why do you have to leave Will? There's plenty of Beth for everybody.
Not everyone gets to be at boob level, though. You're special.

[me] Will says he is a one-woman man. I say we shall see.

Hang on. He just took it back. "I was thinking...there could be good aspects to having two women in my life..."
He looks all thoughtful now.

[beth] You just let me know.

**"Will" is the Boyfriend Formerly Known As Sick Boy.

Just for the record, I love Beth.

Good lord, I am a dork. I just spent ten minutes trying to get the jewel case for Twisted Willie down from its precarious position on a high shelf, because I do not know the names of Willie Nelson songs. I was enjoying the cover by L7 (which I had to ask Sick Boy about, as I didn't recognize the band, either), and wanted to know the name of the song. Well, it's "Three Days," and it's about the most obvious song title ever. I mean, it's Willie Nelson - all of his song titles are obvious! Why couldn't I just guess?

In other news, I spent over $100 at Target today, without buying myself any prezzies. Toiletries are expensive!

Well, I typed up the outline for my novel, wrote a chapter, and then went and got the car washed and oil changed. And you know, I never ever ever in a billion years would have thought I'd write a novel. I do short stories, not novels. (Though, truth be told, I'll be lucky if this is a novella or even a novelette, seeing as the chapters are a page apiece.)

I need to write something good so that I have something to show Tanja. Is it weird of me to want something better for her to read? It's just - she's so talented. I want to measure up.

I'd better get to work. Stupid distracting-me internet.

I feel stupid posting two entries in a row, but oh well. It's Friday the 13th, which I only noticed when I viewed my last entry. I love Friday the 13th! Sick Boy and I got together because of one. (Long story.)

Today we get a paycheck, which is Very Good. It would be better if we could stop going into overdraft, but until someone deems me worth paying for something, his income is all we've got. I think I'm doing OK at keeping us above water, though it's getting close.

Heehee, speaking of water, it turns out that there is room for two in our tub. Quite comfortably.

What was I talking about?

I had trouble sleeping last night. I think it's because I drank tea (caffeinated tea) before bed. Which I swore wouldn't keep me up, but I was certainly awake half the night. Oh well. I felt dead sexy, laying in bed next to my sleeping baby.

In the first year or so that we were dating, I tried wearing sexy clothes a few times, and he kinda laughed at me. So, for obvious reasons, I gave it up.

The other day I was looking at pictures of Dita von Teese, and he asked me why I never dressed like her. I was a little put off, and answered, flustered, that I wasn't as pretty as she is. He made the near-fatal mistake of agreeing with me. I became furious, because not only did he not respond to sexy clothing in the past, but he thinks that someone who has stylists looks better than me - I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and no make-up. Duh!

After a brief fling with anger, I decided to get back at him. I fetched my Sexy Bedroom Clothing from storage and tried it all on for him. The item I like least, my pseudo-fishnet body stocking, really did it for him. His tastes are retarded, but the nookie was pretty fine. Last night I put on one of the outfits he'd laughed at in the past, a trashy little jacket-type top with panties, and once again it worked.

I really don't understand him. I wish I had the money for more lingerie. I really want a corset.

I had a migraine all fucking day. This excerpt from my chat with Tina (post-headache) cheered me up a little:

Tina says:
Hey! Just remembered a "homeopathic" remedy...a girl that used to get them said it would sometimes help to lay in a really hot bath with the lights off and just a candle or two...
Bettie says:
I wanted a bath today, but I tend to get lightheaded/dizzy when I have a bad headache, and I didn't think that passing out in the tub was a good idea. Now that the Boy's home I may take one.
Tina says:
Just don't make it too deep
Bettie says:
Heehee
Tina says:
Drowning to cure your headache seems a bit drastic
Bettie says:
It seems awfully melodramatic. I'll save it for when I'm famous.
Tina says:
hehehehehe....just make sure that enough people know that you were actually trying to cure a headache. Drowning while trying to cure a headache is melodramatic...drowning in the tub for no apparent reason is just sad and overdone
Bettie says:
So true. And I plan to be as original a celebrity as possible.
Tina says:
well, that WOULD be an "original" way to go
Tina says:
(oh, and you wouldn't want anyone to think it was a new variation of autoerotic asphyxia)
Bettie says:
Certainly not!
Tina says:
because if you're going to die during sex, it would REALLY be sad and overdone to die alone!

I am considering abandoning the concept of this being my online journal and just quoting MSN chat.

For the record, the three drags off Rian's cigarette were unsatisfying and kinda icky, but the three fudgsicles I had later were swell.

Tomorrow I will walk two miles, I swear.

Noire Bettie says:
Did you really invent the word beyotch? I'm so impressed!
Jennifer says:
I did. Right after I invented the internet.
Noire Bettie says:
You're AL GORE?!?
Jennifer says:
I am!
Noire Bettie says:
Wow. I totally voted for you.
Jennifer says:
Me too!
Jennifer says:
Someone told me it was wrong of me--I shoulda voted for Bush. I said, "Hey- I'm not in Florida, now am I?"
Noire Bettie says:
You are very witty, Mr. Gore.
Jennifer says:
I am. Doesn't come off so much on camera, though, does it?
Noire Bettie says:
Say, do you get teased a lot for your name? Like, by horror fans, maybe?
Jennifer says:
Sometimes. Mostly I get teased for marrying Tipper.
Jennifer says:
I try to tell those fuckers, er, I mean my constituents, that she was a real babe back in her day. And she's not as uptight as she comes off. I hear her dancing around singing "411 is a joke in your town" ALL THE TIME! She LOVES Public Enemy.

Fuck it. I think I'll have a cigarette today.

Got this from the boy:
Also: I love you horribly, and I don't want you to get too down today. So when you go for your walk, I strongly suggest you take the no-incline Santa Monica walk, so you can smile at all the sculpted and chiseled queens and their dogs... Take a few bucks and buy yourself a fruit smoothy or some yogurt, seriously.

I have this overwhelming sense of impermanence. Like I have to hurry up and do the things that are important to me before everything is taken away. Why the hell did I fall for someone who doesn't want to get married?

You know, with all the media focusing on memorials and rememberances and whatnot, and the code orange the country is in today, and the fact that the sun is shining and it's an absolutely gorgeous day, I am having some difficulty not being sad as hell. I would really like to not think about last year on this date, but I woke up and looked out the window and it was so beautiful that I turned on the radio to find out if the rest of the country was still there. This is, after all, LA. We'd keep going anyway.

In other news, Sick Boy and I had another fight about sex, based on another misunderstanding. I have got to figure out how to avoid these if I want to keep getting laid - though really, the sex we have after these horrible misunderstandings is phenomenal.

I wish he wasn't at work. Sex aside, I am really quite dependant on him and cannot deal with him being away on such a sad day.

Watched The Convent last night. Fucking brilliant. Especially loved the 'Lords of Hell' commentary, which I stayed awake for about 15 minutes worth.

Bad dreams last night, but woke up all cuddly.

We tried to watch the commentary from Waiting For Guffman last night, but it was dreadfully dull. In fact, I highly recommend it to anyone who is currently recording commentary for a DVD and would like a lesson in how not to do it. For everyone else, I say this: it's like watching the movie with interruptions. Honestly, they (Christopher Guest and Eugene Levy) speak during perhaps half of the movie, and most of what they have to say could be found in the credits. "This is Matt Keesler..." No kidding!

So we watched the commentary for The Dead Hate the Living instead. Brilliant! A bunch of kids drinking beer and laughing at their own movie. And they even admit that absolutely everything in the movie is a "tribute" - or, in layman's terms, rip-off - to either a classic horror movie, a director, an actor, a special-effects company, or Tom Savini.

So, I had a cigarette on Saturday.

OK, as long as I'm being honest here, I had two and a half. Technically. The first one I broke the filter off of while I was smoking it, and wound up chewing rather than smoking. The second (which was the "half") was Sick Boy's (he strayed too!) and I just had a drag or two, and the third was the only one I actually smoked properly.

In my defense, I was drunk. And stoned. And I haven't felt any urge to go back to smoking since.

Last night I dreamt | That somebody loved me...

And it wasn't my boyfriend, either. It was someone who looked, in fact, remarkably like Ty from Trading Spaces. *sigh* It was lovely. Alas, most of the dream was taken up with realistic, non-Sex stuff, but still... *sigh*

Just for the record, in the dream Sick Boy and I had broken up, amiably, and I was pursuing a meaningful relationship with Hottie Who Looked Like Ty.

It's Friday. I think I've gained about six pounds since Saturday, which evens out to a pound a day. If I don't start smoking again, I will eat myself out of house and home - and not fit in my bed anymore.

Oh dear.

I haven't had a cigarette in five days. I feel like crap. Actually, that's a lie. I feel fantastic, but I really want one.

We watched Waiting For Guffman last night. It was very funny, but I think I preferred Best In Show. Eh. It's nice to be in the minority there, I think. Now I just have to watch This Is Spinal Tap, like a good little Gen Y-er.