This is Anna's alter ego SickBoy. You are not going to want to hear what i have to say and you most definetly won't like it, and i'm telling you this only because i don't want to hear your crap later! Life's a bitch and i'm part of the problem!

This is what I have to say today (12/02/04)::

-damn questions-

the most dreaded of all dreaded questions was hurtled at me by not one, not two, but four people today. sitting at the luch table, quietly minding my own disgusting sanddwich *blah* and then the conversation turns towards my direction. oh god why? anna may be perfectly sociable, but when she's not paying attention and i'm out to play all hell can break lose!

*note: No, I Anna, am not insane, but the little voice inside my head is*

la question du jour..."so what's your idea of a perfect bloke?" lord, tell me why anyone would ask such a dastardly question? and remember the whole 'boss' brother' thing of yesterday day? Well the prodical prince was sitting right there. i swear they did it on purpose to try and get me to admitt that my ideal is someone that looks like him, someone that is exactly how they see mr.p. mind you, mr. p is not my ideal man, probably not even the disillusioned one they know.

i try to get out it this stupidity by mumbling something about brad pitt, but they don't let me off that easily. damn it! i have an urge to discribe some physical qualities that are the complete opposite to p's, but that would be cruel to the nth degree if he actually did like me. though, regardless of this sweet thought of his feelings, my mind had a change of heart - who cares if he likes me? i don't like him, so what gives, right? i look at him and catch his eye, he looks down at his plate. ok, holy wall of shit-bricks batman,

"not that tall, blond like the sun, blue eyes, really built and...brain don't really matter as long as he's well indowed."

of course big brother freaks, but it was his friends/co-workers that asked after all. everyone else laughs except for the introvert-drama queen. good, any chance to pigeonhole him back into place. so the now carnival-like lunch is almost over and I'm jumping with joy.

baxOr at my desk, in dilbert-cubicle, queen crams his way in with me. of all that is holy and 5x5, leave me be."sorry about those guys at luch, you know how they can be..." shit sherlock, really?! guys, getting rowdy around a venus-like goddess of hottness? shock me.
"umm..." well he studders, seems nervous...wait! hold the presses! he's crammed in my cubicle, pushed up against my desk, and *dum dum dum, drum roll please* talking too me. i smile too humour him. "show me how you made that pdf for the background... please? it was beautiful," he stares hard, i shiver...creepy? maybe. "and you did it so quickly, i don't understand how that's possible." his smile is suddenly more endearing than cocky, he's not running, he's asking me for help. what is the world coming too? an end?

the afternoon became suprisingly more fun, social, i get used to him woring with me maybe...but *shh* don't tell anna. though if i did work more closely with him i wouldn't tneed to hide in my cubi anymore.

lesson learn't,
books and covers, you know what i mean
truely SickBoy.