lydibug's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sickly McSickerton I am sick. I am a sickly girl. My tummy has something. A bug. I think I should call the Orkin man and have him come fix it. What the fuck. I got worn down. I wasn't eating properly or getting enough rest and I was moving big heavy things up and down stairs all weekend... not to mention putting every spare bit of energy into the boy. Guess it finally took its toll on me. I finished that project last night and emailed it off this morning. It wasn't as great as I wanted it to be, but I was still quite pleased with myself for getting it done. Now I've got 3 big things left and I'm done. Schoooooool's out. for. SUMMER. I had to get out of bed before I died. I slept until noon and just couldn't handle being that slothlike anymore. Being sick fucking sucks. And I had to call in sick to work. Now they're gonna think I'm playing hookie. Dammit. 1:37 pm - Tuesday, June 17, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sickly McSickerton I am sick. I am a sickly girl. My tummy has something. A bug. I think I should call the Orkin man and have him come fix it. What the fuck. I got worn down. I wasn't eating properly or getting enough rest and I was moving big heavy things up and down stairs all weekend... not to mention putting every spare bit of energy into the boy. Guess it finally took its toll on me. I finished that project last night and emailed it off this morning. It wasn't as great as I wanted it to be, but I was still quite pleased with myself for getting it done. Now I've got 3 big things left and I'm done. Schoooooool's out. for. SUMMER. I had to get out of bed before I died. I slept until noon and just couldn't handle being that slothlike anymore. Being sick fucking sucks. And I had to call in sick to work. Now they're gonna think I'm playing hookie. Dammit. 1:37 pm - Sunday, Jul. 14, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sickly Girl I am sick sick sick. Sick as a sick white girl laying in bed with the flu on a Saturday. Sick. My boss kept bugging me this morning to get the key to get into my gym. I'm sick you bastard. Leave me alone. Last night was spent napping and consuming Carl's Jr. and Burger King. We felt like little piggies. My boyfriend rocks. Who else would sacrifice their Friday night to eat junk food and watch "While You Were Out" with their sickly girlfriend? My back and neck and shoulders ache from laying in bad for 24 hours straight. Or something like that. I sent a bunch of e-greetings to folks for V-day yesterday and it was a lot of fun getting return greetings. My mom sent me one back that said, "Hi Bug! Thanks for the flowers! I get to stay with [my friend] in Palm Springs when I leave this week. Turns out the hotel I booked was for gay men! No wonder the brochure was so cute. It would still have been fun. Oh well. Love you!" My mom has to attend this PALSA (Palo Alto Legal Secretaries Association) thing this coming week/weekend. She's hardcore into this stuff. Its a bunch of frumpy old ladies and my mom. My mom is the cutest little thing you ever did see, so she sticks out like a sore thumb in this bunch. They all sit around and chat and eat and visit and rewrite law books and codes and shit. It's weird. Goddam. I feel like I look. And that ain't good. I watched this thing on Animal Planet this morning narrated by Brad Pitt. It was about these orphaned bear cubs who get raised by humans and then star in movies like Dr. Doolittle. Then I watched this thing on insects. IT WAS SO GROSS. You don't even want to know the kinds of parasites living on and in us. EEEEW. Seriously. I have homework to do and it should get done now while the boys are still at my moms. They have a tendancy to want to be wherever I am and they sit on the keyboard while I'm trying to type. Its sweet and all, but they hold down all kinds of buttons that change the font and size of words on my moniter. And only they seem to be able to fix it once its done. I hate the flu. Bah. 4:35 pm - Wednesday, Jul. 17, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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