inside your shiny shell you dance all day dear

I am awake. Contact in my eye, food in my tummy, coffee in my mug. I had my shower but am not made up or dressed yet.

If any of you have some money lying around and want to get me a present, I would like two makeup artists, a hairdresser, and someone to take care of my clothes and do all my zippers and buttons. I swear the zipper on my pink coat is on the other side from all my other coats, and it will confuse me through January.

Hooray for being done with my Java eeeaarllly. Hooray for me having been motivated to get enough work done this weekend that I don't have to spend next Sunday night in escalating waves of bubbling panic. Hooray for the donuts in Punkietummy and for it not being cloudy and for my printer having paper in it for once.

Hector mailed me. She says that people are snotty in Greece and think all American girls are sluts, but that she is well fed. I wonder if they would think I am a slut with my long pants and long-sleeved shirts and snotty, touch-me-and-die attitude. Or maybe she's just sleeping with all the Greek boys? oh, excuse me. All the Greek OLD MEN.

hehee um. I love Hector, really.

What am I going to wear today. I have to do laundry tomorrow.

Baby won't you let me have a little tiiiime to hiiiide. heh Wings that aren't Paul are extraneous. I don't object to Denny Laine as much as the rest of them, just because I feel bad for him. Then there is LAURENCE JUUUBER.

oooh dear. You know, Punker, by the time we're forty, we aren't going to be able to say an entire sentence without at least one word making us expel mucus at the speed of light. Like SANDWICHES or PANTENE. OR FINALE.

go get a towel, dear, that might stain.

Anyway. I have got to find and buy that Got Wings? shirt, even if no one else ever understands and I drool all over it and it turns purple.

guess what. I can't control my Discman with my mouse. Surpise, surprise.

DAMMIT. WHERE IS MY ALL THE BEST CD. RRRAAAARRRRRR.

um. I should go get dressed before I alienate the world. Shine.

pretty little head

One of the other Russian professors came in and told us about other classes in the department available for non-majors next semester. He was a shining example of the Middle-Aged Man Living in a Fog of Inconsequential Academia for which I have such a soft spot. I want to feed them milk and cookies.

My weird Paul fixes remind me that there was life before Pookie. It makes me want to do things and think things that are in no way related to Pookie. I used to read and write a lot more.

But then again, I also watched a lot of bad television, so.

I spent a long time in the Very Large Library tracking down some books with which to entertain myself and then discovered I left my student ID in my coat pocket after dinner last night. The little man put them on overnight reserve for me, but I am not really inclined to put my shoes back on and go pick them up just yet. Perhaps I will arrange to go to dinner with Caitlin and get them on the way back.

I also walked all the way to the engineering building to sign up for an appointment with Janey, but she only has sheets up through Wednesday, and our damn packets don't come out until Thursday or Friday, so I will have to wait.

I wait badly.