June 27, 2002 :: 10:08 p.m.
I asked him, I said, "How did you know that?"
I'm itchy. And I want to dye my hair. I haven't dyed my hair in what seems like centuries, but it's actually only been about... well, six months maybe, which is still a really long time for me. It's pretty healthy now, back to its natural color for the first time in probably 7 years. I like it how it is, but I don't know, the urge is hitting me pretty hard. Maybe I'll get some dye tomorrow. Not permanent, though. I can't go back there yet. Just some of the semi-permanent wash out stuff. In some shade of red, of course, because even though I probably I look better/more natural as a brunette, my own and my hair's hearts belong to the realm of the fiery redhead. Heh. How's that for some alliteration?
So anyway, back to the itchy thing. I don't know what's going on. It's like when you're outside and you get all sweaty, then your sweat dries into this annoying, itchy coating. Only I wasn't outside and I wasn't sweating. Maybe a race of microscopic bugs has claimed my person as their territory and are setting up a colony. Speaking of which, there was the most humongous moth terrorizing me at work today. *shudders* I went on my 10 minute break to eat something, and as I sat down at the little round table by the window I looked over and saw this giant fucking insect staring back at me. I made all sorts of embarrassingly small child-esque noises and told Stewart to kill it. In turn, he made his own set of 32 year old gay man-esque noises and said that he was afraid of it too. Mary Beth came to the rescue and did away with the foul beast. Mary Beth rocks.
This is going to be very cryptic and meaningless to all but myself and possibly Adam, but I have to say it: I think I've stumbled into a very bad thing. I did it again. Not even for any real reason this time; I just wanted to. I suspect that it's somehow addictive. *sigh* Oh my. I know this isn't healthy.
I'm listening to Bj�rk and watching Drew Barrymore be a cute redhead in Charlie's Angels. This movie tugs at my gag reflex pretty hard, but Mason has it on and I don't have much say in the matter, sooo... watching it, I am. And she is cute, regardless. I wish I was that cute. I think I'd give my left arm to be so cute. Not that I use my left arm for anything, anyway. It would be a rather harmless sacrifice.
Hmm. All right, I'm going to get off of here. Mason is silently pestering me. He can't survive too long without being online. His lungs are directly connected to the internet. Someone should study the boy.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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