3.23pm
Friday
18 February 2005

One of the reasons I played around so much is I had a need to test him. That being with other men could end our relationship didn't bother me because in my not too small hatred of misogyny, the fear of being owned sexually and appreciated only sexually justified my need for proof that my desirablity was not lessened by my own selfish sexual gratifications. I have such a terror of being controlled that I would rather be called a skank or a whore and be told bye-bye for good, you skanky whore! than be with any person who would dare call me a skank or a whore.

--z

  Yeah, I ain't got shit for you but quotes from the journal girls, but I got nostalgic about that story a couple years ago about the dude who had to cut off his own arm because he was stuck with it pinned under a boulder in the woods, and mimi always has good nostalgia:

When I was in Pittsburgh and way too involved in television news every hotel-room morning, of course the Arm-Severing Guy was all over the networks, and, desperate for related stories so as not to let the arm-severing excitement die down for even one freaking minute, CNN spent some time telling the story of ANOTHER guy who went hiking and ended up having to cut something off. This guy had a boulder (see, the boulders have it in for us I'M TELLING YOU) fall on his leg, and after being unable to free himself he ended up cutting his leg off below the knee with a pocketknife and then somehow driving to the next town for help. Important difference, though: whereas Arm-Severing Guy was trapped for six days, this guy apparently waited only ONE DAY. Okay. He said that there was a snowstorm coming, and that his leg really hurt, and so on, but still: don't you wait a little longer than one day? I know that you can never really predict what you would do in a crisis, but I feel fairly comfortable in predicting that I would work on screaming for at least two solid days before I even started thinking about holding a do-it-yourself amputation party. I worry a bit about this one-day guy. Maybe if the pizza is a half-hour late he is already starting to toss names into a hat to decide who gets eaten. You lock your keys in the car and he smashes in the window immediately rather than try any coathanger or slim jim business. I don't know, maybe he is right, and it was his only option but still. One day of trapped. Hmmm.

 

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The world is totally conspiring against my abstainment from coffee. There was a time in my life in which I spent many many days going into a plush corporate office with frosted glass walls around the kitchen and aluminum appliances and every day I would have a cup of coffee whose first sip would just reinforce how absolutely asleep I was on the entire drive to work, and whose remaining sips would EAT AWAY THE INSIDE OF MY TUMMY. Coffee makes me feel like total crap, and yet it still took almost a year before I had weaned myself from wanting some every single morning.

And now my office has a $1700 espresso machine.

Gah.

So.

Yummy.

 

• × • × • × •

 

Fridays are yummy.

 

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