it's tuesday right?

Notes to all the diarylanders out there who at some time or another thought about having me baby-sit for them: don�t let me!

Last night I had a dream where I saw a baby (say one or two years old) swinging on a monkey bar-like contraption. Bitch slips off and flips himself off the apparatus onto the pavement face down, landing with a satisfying crunching noise. Mother didn�t scream, just laid there like a corpse. I thought to myself �he�ll be alright� and moved on.

My shower at home seems to be quite finicky when it comes to water temp and I cannot seem to get it just how I like it. I stand in front of the water with my arms folded for a good five minutes or so thinking �I should shampoo now�or soap up now�or maybe shampoo, rinse, put the conditioner in, and THEN soap up and then rinse everything at once in order to save time.� The though process allows me to prepare for the rest of the day as that debate with myself in the shower seems to be the most intellectually stimulating thing that happens to me until I get home from work and the TV is turned on. In any event, I�m farting around with the water and I can�t seem to get it to right temperature and then I usually have to remind myself of what direction to turn the hot and cold knobs. I usually re-enact how I turned them on to begin with by making the motion a few inches above the knob itself and then turning it the proper direction. I then step back and wait for a wave of hotter/cooler water to hit me. For some reason, minor adjustments to the knobs don�t do much and I�m too afraid to make one giant leap and suddenly wind up giving myself third degree burns or worse yet, goose bumps.

I got to wear a freshly pressed shirt today. I�ve decided that since I am not very good at ironing, I will just have them dry cleaned. It�s only a dollar for each shirt and I spend more than enough money on random crap that I can probably make a few cut backs if it means I get freshly pressed shirts for work without any effort from myself. It was raining yesterday on my walk home from the metro and the dry cleaner was on the way home. Before stopping in I had a vision of me burning a hole through the plastic wrap they give you around the shirts with my cigarette and somehow catching all my shirts on fire. I would then have to thrown them into a puddle and splash around trying to put it out. I was carrying my umbrella, smoking, and trying to switch out a CD in my Discman. Well, I get to the drycleaner, get the clothes, light a new cigarette and shortly thereafter, burned a hole in the bag and brushed up against one of my shirts. Luckily, all it did was create a nice �shooting star� design in cigarette ash on the sleeve. It was easily brushed away.

Job search 2004 is underway because I�m sick of being a slave to the man. A note to the creator/voice actor who portrays the cat in Teachers Pet: teach me to scream like that PUH-LEASE!!!!!!! Every time I see the trailer and hear the cat scream when he sees his reflection I light up. Brilliant. In other news, this random entry is coming to a close�NOW

e.