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2001-12-29 - 7:22 p.m.
I asked someone today if they thought I was an idiot. The reason I was asking is because I have as of late realized the main reason for my constant irritation and that is the fact that people like to tell me things and they like to tell me things in a long discourse of useless information that isn't even exciting, funny or necessary. Like I wouldn't understand the story if they didn't throw in all the extra crap. For instance a girl at work trying to get to the part about getting stuck in a snow bank on the way to work began the story with, "My guinea pig wouldn't shut up this morning, you know how they sound, WEE WEE WEE, and I had to feed him like four times before I could even take a shower and I only had like two carrots so I had to cut them all in half." When she finally GOT to the part about why she was late I was trying to back away without her noticing and I hear her saying (and in my mind this all sounded like Charley Brown's teacher) "The snow gets caked in the wheel well and the tires get all screwed up from it and there is nothing you can do about it, anyway, I couldn't turn the wheel and I skidded into the snowbank." I asked her if she considered the fact that she could go to the car wash and SPRAY THE SNOW OUT OF THE WHEEL WELLS if it was that bad or for that matter just KICK THE CRAP OUT OF THE DAMN ICE? She told me she didn't want her locks to freeze. Okay, so don't spray the water on the door, unless of course you'd just rather lose the ability to steer. She didn't get it and continued talking. Another girl at work does this same thing to me only she is ALWAYS talking about boys. She is the quintessential DRAMA QUEEN. Always with the tears you know? At least she can provide me with entertainment. She once asked how often a new Mother Theresa is elected. Snow plow guy finally showed up today, just as I finished shoveling the last five feet of driveway. My ex boyfriend is instant messaging me right now. He has taken to calling me Twiggy. As I said in a previous entry I found that he and I were trying to outdo one another in symptoms of our agony over the breakup. But what I am really finding is that he kind of fishes for ways to get me to notice HIS symptoms of agony. Like calling me Twiggy, he's just trying to get me to tell HIM that he is the really skinny one, not me. Does that make sense to you? Went to the bookstore today and found nothing that tickled my fancy. I'm pretty sure I have never walked out of a bookstore without buying something until today. I am bookless right now. I'm trying to decide whether I should re-read "The Fountainhead" for the hundredth time or if I should read "The Hotel New Hampshire" for the millionth time. Maybe I'll just read one of the books I bought for my two year old brother and sister. Frog and Toad rock!!! El nighto nighto. |
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