I'm writing this in a notepad at work. Today has been a mildly interesting day at work. A rather strange, alcoholic, middle-aged man named Gary was talking to me about "Dave's dad." And I said, "Yes, my dad, too." And he said, "Dave's your brother?" (Dave is old enough to be my father.) Once people find out I'm "Jim's daughter" (I don't konw why I'm quote-happy today), they automatically get this "Oh, bless your little heart" attitude and think I'm just an amazing person. I don't know if they think my father's greatness was passed down genetically to all his children or what. I, unlike my brothers and sisters, was not privileged enough to have his influence growing up -- he died when I was twenty months old. As I've told many people, I could possibly have one memory of him -- my rubbing lotion on his back. But I think a picture exists of me doing that, so maybe I am just subconsciously bringing that picture to life. I also may have dreamed it. I think memories start more around pre-school age, don't they? I mean, maybe things further back can be remembered through hypnosis, but I've never undergone hypnosis. Anyway, the Gary dude, when he found out who I as, took my hand and was caressing it while telling me of memories he had of my father's last day. Apparently, my father had called for this guy to be at his bedside when he was dying. I found Gary to be quite annoying, but maybe he was less spacy and alcoholic-y in my dad's time. The hand rubbing (that afterwards left a motor-oil scent on my skin) creeped me out, but my brother Dave said he does it to him, too. I like hearing stories about my father, but at the same time I never have any way of responding, other than, "Yes, I've heard he was a great man." It's so strange because when I go to my friends' houses who have both their parents living with them, I'm always thinking, "Oh yeah! I forgot about the existence of fathers in a household!" I wonder what it would be like having a man in the house. I wonder if I'd still put makeup on wearing only my bra and underwear. I doubt it.

Ohh, Matt, who used to work with me whom I've not seen in a year, came in! I will see if my feelings of infatuation for him still exist when he comes up to be rung (rang?) up in a moment. Anyway, a cute old man gave me a little box of raisins today. I love little old men! And my sister-in-law Diane (Dave's wife) brought me in some of the spagetti she made for dinner...and even cooked me a special, meatless batch! What a great day it's been!

Goth hotties just came in. I used to let them buy smokes despite that they were only like seventeen, but then they started taking advantage, so I stopped. I've found, though I don't want to stereotype an entire subculture of people (but oh well), that gothic people from L-Wald drink only Faygo and nothing else.

Okay, I just got done talking to Matt, and, yes, faeries are still in my tummy when I am in his presence. He gained back some of the weight he had lost, which makes me feel better. He was overweight at first, then lost a godawful amount of weight...and it always bugged me because I felt, like, inferior to him when he was thin. Anyway, I sound so shallow, so I'll stop. It's about time to get off work, so I shall stop here. I am going out with Melanie and Corey after work! How I love them!

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