Sunday, September 14, 2003

I ran into an old friend (well, young friend, but longstanding) at church today, and pulled her into the lobby so we could get reacquainted.

After the usual long time no see chit chat she asks me, "so..... are there any boys?" To which I respond, "uh..... no."

Sensing my hesitation, she says, "no?" and I reply "well..... I mean..... there's boys" rolling my eyes, "but no. If you catch my drift."

"yeah," she says, "I got ya."

Funny, cuz that question always arrives with frightening predictability, and I know what people mean when they ask it, but it means nothing to me. Some days I wish I had more to say than 'no' but then the way my skin has been breaking out as of late indicates a chemical imbalance in my otherwise post adolescent body.

The doggers likes it when I make farting sounds with my mouth. On another note, I'm undergoing indecision and turmoil regarding my church's women's retreat at the end of this month. On the one hand, I can't afford it, not even a little bit..... on the other hand, I can request assistance and go anyways..... on the other hand, I'm not poor so much as I suck at managing money...... on the other hand, if people are willing to help me out..... on the other hand, too many strangers for too many days in a row...... on the other hand, it would probably be good for me..... on the other hand...... but what about....... and even if......

Maybe I'm a little concerned about being the only early twenties single childless tomboy there..... older women just love to pray for me that God would "affirm my femininity" and all that jazz, and I don't hold it against them cuz they can't possibly know where I'm coming from, but Jeez, do I ever hate that feeling like everyone just can't wait to call down the Holy Spirit on this poor hapless kid.

All of which I know is just a load of........ stuff.

My weekend of justified idleness (is that a word?) is nearly over which means I'm gonna have to sleep in my bed again. I should just move my alarm clock down here, then it wouldn't matter if I fell asleep on the couch. And I'd probably wake up when clark came home, and then we'd yak a bit, and then she'd get on the puter and I'd fall back asleep like the corpse that I am.

On the other hand, maybe I'll just polish off the last of the pepsi so I can go back to my otherwise caffeine free (translate: dreary) existence and then get back to my snuggly bed with the snuggly blanket with the bears on it.

Maybe if I replace my bed with a futon and get a little tv in my room, every night can be as glorious as passing out in the basement.

Dude I feel bloated.


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