September 28...You know, every semester starts out virtually the same...I promise up and down that I will study hard and be a really rilly good student, and what ends up happening by the third week? Homework becomes a distant memory and my books never leave my car, except the night before the final when I frantically flip through the pages hoping to learn a semester's worth of material in two hours. (Because I cannot study more than two hours. Can't do it. Won't do it. If I don't know it by then, it's just not that important.)

So, in the third week of the semester, in which I swore to get a 4.0, where am I when I could be using this time to be studying? On the goddamned internet. It's pathetic. Why do I keep lying to myself? I could understand if I was still like 15 and if my report card didn't have A's and B's I would be grounded for the weekend, but I'm 25 years old! It's time to break free! Let loose! Actually, I did that as an undergrad. Now when I go on job interviews and am asked what my GPA was, I do a great job of bullshitting. You see, while on the surface a 2.6 doesn't look so great, you have to look at the cummulative effect of my collegiate years. What are grades anyway? Arbitrary assessments of knowledge! Meaningless indicators of how good a job someone does memorizing, because we all know you forget everything two months after the class is over. It all sounds really convincing in my head.

So I have something embarrassing to admit. I've been watching the Olympics and kind of liking it. But what is up with all the whack sports I've been seeing? For one, I never thought rythmic gymnastics should have been included. And is that event still being held? Olympic events shouldn't be fads. Doing something that matches someone else shouldn't be considered a sport. That's retarded. Synchronized swimming might be kinda neat to watch in a strangely engrossing way, but that's not a sport! You can't convince me otherwise.

September 27...Oh god, it's the end of another month. You do realize what that means, don't you? I have to make a new daily dirt page. It's too much. I'm too enfeebled to even begin contemplating such a task. I'm so full of shit.

So today I found out I was the number one site on the MSN search page for "Boom Shaka Laka". I am not using my title space on my page to its fullest advantage. I should start calling it "sex sex sex" or "naked Britney Spears" or something. Then I could really start pulling in the hits! Aww yeah!!

So I find myself this evening in a really weird hyper mood, which means number one, forget studying. I couldn't study if I tried. Number too (hah! number "too"! spelling mistakes are funny!) I really should be putting this excess energy to use by washing dishes or running (exercise...the bane of my existence) but...no. That's not fun. Fun will be going to San Antonio this weekend to see my two of my best friends for a night out on the town. Listen to me, I sound like I'm in fourth grade. Actually, I have four best friends. I guess if there are four of them, they can't all be the best, but in girl speak, it makes perfect sense.

This isn't working. Let's try again tomorrow.

September 24...I have no idea if today is the 24th or 25th but I suppose it doesn't really matter. Once again, my weekend flew by too quickly. Saturday was spent all day in a classroom, and although I enjoy my classes and usually have a good time (relatively speaking, of course), I felt really disassociated from everybody. I guess we all have those days, where you don't really feel like talking and it seems that everyone is friends with everyone else except for you. I whined about it to Michael in the car on the way home. He pointed out that most of my classmates are in their late thirties and forties, and people I probably wouldn't want to be friends with anyway. "But it doesn't matter! They don't ever ask me to do anything or even study with them! What's wrong with me?" Then I realized my period starts in three days. Duh.

I hate to be such a stereotypical girl, but PMS is just a fact of life for me. Anytime I feel irrational or moody, all I have to do is mentally visualize my birth control dispenser and if only a couple of pills are left before the sugar pills, case closed. I think Michael must have taken a peek at the package because when I got home he had beer in the fridge waiting for me. Awwww.

Today the cat knocked over one of his brand new speakers. They only cost about $250, which was a bargain, but she completely damaged it. I felt so terrible, because after all I brought her into the house, and then she breaks something that he had been wanting for a very long time. He's taking it pretty well, but he only had them for five days. Sucks.

Anyway, I have become totally obsessed with mormons. Maybe obsessed is a strong word, more like, intrigued. You see, I've always known there was something a little...how shall we say...not quite right about them. My first semester of college, I had the pleasure of having a mormon roommate. The first day I moved into my dorm, I walk in my room and what do I see hanging over her bed? An 8x10 framed picture of Jesus. I wanted to cry. Why me? Why do the freaks find me out? It was a fun-filled semester of her trying to convert me and me telling her over and over that I wasn't interested. The last time I saw her she was 19, transfering to Brigham Young and getting married. Is that any surprise?

So then I found a website about the facts behind mormonism and it was just too freakish and engrossing. I won't get too into it, but if you want to learn about a religon that takes con-artistry to new levels, check out ex-mormon.org. And I thought being Catholic was bad!

September 21...I have got a headache in my eye and my typing is all retarded today, but my good friend Patty reminded me of something that has puzzled us for years. Maybe Aussie Lisa can help us out. Why is it, that Lars Ulrich is only the DRUMMER of Metallica, yet he is like their official spokesperson? And not only that, but anytime he gives and interview the dude will not shut up. He yammers on for hours, with his annoying Belgian or whatever the hell it is accent, causing my ears to actually bleed. He is the DRUMMER. Drummers should sit behind their drum kits and be quiet. Especially Lars.

I stayed home sick yesterday due to the fact that I was violently ill (and when I say violently, I mean, VIOLENT. We'll just leave it at that.) and I happened to catch "All My Children", a show I used to be totally in love with. I was reminded of the bizarre soap opera phenomenon of having every scene end with the characters staring at each other or off into space not saying a word for like 10 seconds. You know what I mean. Why do they do that? I don't understand. Is it an editing thing? It's stupid. I hate it.

Another thing I don't understand. Maybe it's just where I live, but daytime TV is full of commericals for personal injury lawyers, tarot readings and FDS. Targeting the lazy, the stupid, and the stripper, in that order? Lately my daydreams have consisted of a) winning the lottery and moving to Monte Carlo or b) being a teacher so I could have phat vacations. Isn't it pathetic that I have sunk so low. Notice that was not phrased in the form of a question.

Ok, gotsta get to the homework.

September 18...I totally should not be updating. I have a ton of homework, some laps to run, a house to clean and some slobbing out on the TV to do that CANNOT be neglected, and here I am on the damn computer. I swear, you people do not know the level of devotion I feel to entertaining you. It's quite sad, actually.

Today Michael asked me when the Olympics were starting. As much as I am not interested, even I knew they had already begun (due in large part to Aussie Lisa.) But really, is there anyone who cares? The Olympics is this overblown marketing op that most people take way too seriously, an example of fanatic nationalism gone awry that has no place in today's world. The last time I watched an olympic event was women's gymnastics, 1996, and even then I question why the hell that event took place. Of course I was going out with Jay then, the most insane boyfriend I ever had (and trust me, he had some good competition.) Kerri Strug...that poor girl was mercilessly crucified in the press, but goddamn...it was too much! I can still recall her pathetic, malformed little body being carried by Bela Karoli to the olympic podium. Wasn't she on an episode of 90210?

So I am officially addicted to "sex in the City". It's a great show, in case you've been living in a cave for the past couple of years and have never seen it. That's all I really have to say about that.

September 15...Word up to Jen for alerting me about the blue border making it difficult to read. After reading my guestbook today, I pondered out loud, "Hmm, it looks okay to me", whereupon Michael stepped in with "Yeah, she's right, it's too dark, you can't read it." Thanks, Mr. Helper. How long did you know about this and not tell me? So I moved things over and hopefully everything is better now.

Anyway, that psychotic episode I had two days ago has passed. I am in a much more mellow mood (how's that for alliteration?) now and am taking a more philisophical approach to my job and work in general. I've realized that it's neither healthy nor productive to take things at work personally, because most of the time people are either a) thinking only of themselves or b) not thinking at all. Usually the latter. So I am much better, not that anyone cared.

Today I had an embarrassing realization. All this time, I thought Puff Daddy's name was because of Sean "Puffy" Combs, like the cereal Honey Combs. But then I realized there isn't a cereal called Puffy Combs. I have always associated Puff Daddy with a breakfast cereal, and then come to find out that's probably not even the case. So why the hell is he called Puffy? If anyone knows, I would appreciate some input.

But then again, why is anyone called anything? Dr. Dre certainly ain't no M.D. Eminem? Is that like the candy M&M? That's what I've always thought. Why do I associate rappers with food?

I spent today in the throes of a hangover. It was just lovely. Really, you would think I would learn. But I really needed my night out last night. It was theraputic in ways I cannot describe. We were at this bar for three hours and our tab was SEVEN DOLLARS. I'm not kidding. We had like four beers each and when the waitress came to give us our tab we actually protested, saying "But we had eight beers". She said, yeah, eight beers, seven dollars. The place has the atmosphere of a welfare office, but damn, it's worth it.

September 13...Warning...I am in a severely crappy mood, so what follows can either be taken as extreme whinging or a psychotic episode. I FUCKING HATE MY JOB. I can find no milder way to say how I feel. I would go into the long and gory story of it all, but suffice it to say I HATE HATE HATE one particular person at that company who is making it his mission to make my life hell and get rid of me. The sad thing is I'm probably going to let him win. I'm currently looking for another job, and the prospect is so disheartening I have been in a total slump all week. Then, to top it all off, I had a co-worker today tell me all the things he says about me behind my back. What I need to do is walk into his office and call him on it, but I'll save it for my last day and hopefully muster up the courage to actually do it. Do you want to know what type of person I'm talking about? He just went to Mexico to get his stomach stapled. You read that right. He is a big fatass, but certainly not in the Carnie Wilson category that requires such a radical procedure (and in Mexico, no less.) Instead, he is a total glutton who wants to be able to eat whatever he wants and not gain weight. He is disgusting and gross and wears way too much cologne and I hate him with all my soul. So this has been the cause of my slump, and despite my attempts to not let him bother me I can't help it. I hate the fact that I have to spend eight hours a day at that place, a place I formally really loved and thought was my future but because of this dickwad is not. Like I said, it's a long story, and I'll stop tormenting all of you now. I just really hate the fact that people get away with being total assholes and making other people miserable. It's not right.

God, you should see my kitchen. It's gross. Like I mentioned before, we don't have a dishwasher, so washing dishes is a weekly event at best just because it's so labor intensive. Don't gross out, I always rinse everything off, it's not like I have chunks of food laying around. I just have stacks of dishes to wash. It's depressing.

Ok, I just erased a whole paragraph about nude photography and throwing up. I realized that there are some things that don't need to be shared with everyone.

I think I better quit while I'm ahead. Maybe I'll be sane tomorrow.

September 9...I know I have been totally awol lately, but I couldn't be bothered to update from New Yawk and have only now found the time to wind down and entertain my faithful following. But first I feel the need to discuss what was, for me at least, proof that either I am getting too old for MTV (which is pretty sad at 25), or that channel has its head in its ass and is willing to promote anyone who can stimulate the hormones of 13 year olds across the nation.

The VMAs was truly pathetic in many ways. There was so much hypocrisy and contradictory messages being put across, it was enough to make you laugh. Is MTV for or against Napster? I can't tell. It's like on one hand they put down their cash cows, their money makers N'Sync and Britney Spears, and the next moment they completely pander to them. You can't have it both ways. You can't be irreverent and make fun of them when the small children who love these bands and who slavishly watch your pathetic excuse for programming are the ones who lure your sponsors, thereby padding your pockets. Not only that, but the hypocrisy and utter bullshit of Rage Against the Machine appearing on the most machinistic channel of them all was totally ridiculous. I'm not the first person to point this out, however, so let's move on.

Eminem and Kid Rock and Fred Durst...I have a few words for you. Your attitude of being cool and above it all? I see right through you. You are all slaves to the system, too. You put down N'Sync, but you are the same fucking thing. You're no different. You all have about the same amount of talent, which doesn't happen to be much. Get over it.

Now let's get catty.

Britney...please just stop trying to make us believe you are still a virgin. Please. It's insulting for all of us.

Christina...you need to gain weight. I'm serious. Your head is too large for your body. This is not a good sign. Plus, you need to find a better stylist.

D'Angelo...did you get the shit beat out of you later that night? Because last time I heard Puffy doesn't take men oggling his lady too kindly. Bust a nut!

I think what it all comes down to is that I'm too goddamn old for this shit. We wandered into Times Square on Wednesday and noticed a throng of pre-pubescents hanging out in front of MTV for TRL. It was absurd. What was the reason for their excitement? Papa Roach was in the studio. Yawn. Minor Threat did it was better back in the eighties. White boy angst rock is so over. Why doesn't anyone realize this except me?

Oh, how was the trip? Fab. We really had a great time and spent way too much. Did all the touristy things just because we like to be retarded (i.e. top of the Empire State Building, World Trade Center, etc.). The weather was great. The realization that I dress like a nun compared to most of the girls in Manhattan, in that I cover up way too much skin. Our hotel was awesome. I was pleasantly surprised with how nice it was for the price. Priceline.com, I love you.

Oh yeah, I wanted to thank all of you wonderful people who have sent me emails and written guestbook entries congratulating me on the wedding. I'm sorry I haven't been able to write back, it's just been very hectic these past couple of weeks. But your kindness and good wishes are much appreciated. I better go, I'm getting a little verklempt.

Here's my link to August as I can't be bothered to put it up on the archives page. Laziness personified.