I had this sinking feeling that today was going to be a bad day. (Maybe it was that I woke up late or that I left my car windows open and there was snow everywhere or that my transmission was stuck again and I had to begin the morning by pushing my car, attempting to get it started.) But it got strangely better. I ate candy and watched a movie about communism second hour. And then Florian gave me some weird lesbian activist poster that he bought at the cultural center while he was in Syracuse. And it was pizza day (although there was some kind of weird liquidy shit happening with the cheese). I feel like since the birthday thing over spring break that I've bonded more with my ladies. It's nice.

At work Amy asked me about my love life. What love life and why are these people so curious? I told her I didn't have anything going on. So she asked me why I didn't hook up with Lauren. Ummm, how about no, Amy. People act like there are geometry theorem-esque rules to being queer.

Any two lesbians on the same plane will inevitably desire to fuck one another.

No no no. Not Lauren.

And then while we were putting the money in the safe my manager said to me, "Anna, you need to hook up with Brad. He's such a nice guy. And good looking, too. I'd go for him if I were your age." You're right, Debbie, he is a nice boy. But there are a couple of problems with this plan:

1) I'm a lesbian.

2) The last time I checked, being the matchmaker for the part-timers is not part of your job description. Do we really want to encourage any more work place romances?

3) You have a bleached permed quasi-mullet and your boyfriend is disgusting. I'm not sure I want you to hook me up, nor am I interested in anyone that you are interested in.

and last but not least . . .

4) His name is Brad. What a bad name.

It was a nice suggestion but I already have a Kmart sperm donor lined up, and I just don't think I need another.

Shit. I've run out of things to write about.

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