So I'm sitting here listening to Le Tigre, drinking tea, eating pasta and feeling well-groomed and slightly attractive on this fine day of war. How about you? Yeah, I'm sure you're feeling just fucking great, too. What a fucking disaster.

My manager's daughter came in last night to tell me that they were bombing Baghdad and then proceded to tell me all about the nasty viral skin infection that she and her husband had picked up and told me that if they died from it, I should make sure that my manager sues the hospital for misdiagnosis. Got it, Michelle.

I just realized that nothing is going on in my life. I don't have anything to write about. Except that this will be the third day in a row that I will have worked with Lauren. And here are all the reasons why I like Lauren:

1. When she says she's bi, I believe her.

2. She's my queer Kmart comrade.

3. We've spent a considerable amount of time discussing her new nipple piercings.

4. She is also the victim of Michael's incredibly inappropriate lesbian-themed questions.

5. She plays rugby, which only interests me because she is such a small person.

6. I got to witness her liberation from good-girlness.

7. She likes Kate, too.

Kate is indeed rather yummy. Saw her the other day and she bragged to her roomate about how she had pierced me. I was so proud to be one of her conquests. Going back for more pretty soon.

Holy shit. The copier just turned on by itself. Goddamn ghosts.

Satan's cat shit on the floor this morning. Obviously our new relationship together is not unfolding well.

But my tea is gone and I have to bring the dog in . . .

"for the ladies and the fags, yeah, we're the band with the rollerskate jams"

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