Sex Diaries
Part Twenty B - Forty Black Balloons
By Miesque
miesque1973@msn.com

RATING: PG-13
SETTING: Season Seven (aka "Season of the Pod People") into Season Eight. Luka has long since broken up with Droopy
McHangdog (a.k.a., Abby Lockhart) and is Alone Again (naturally...)
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/cast. Romantic/comedy/drama, vague spoof of 'Bridget Jones's Diary'...may be rather humorous, may be angsty, may end with a nuclear bomb wiping out all of Chicago...who knows?
TRANSLATION: 'jaja' = eggs (testicles...ahem)
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)
SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Starter Pistols and Sex Diaries; Fishin' for the Runnin'; Heat Stroke; Grocery Store Cowboy;
Cheesecake and Whine; Times Of Your Life; I Want A Cave Man, I Want A Brave Man!; A Bigger Mousetrap; Bless Me,
Father; For I Am About to Sin; Out On A Ledge; Have An Egg Instead; Charity; The Devil Cuts Loose; Toads and
Falsehoods; Ready to Go; Saying Goodbye; Crazy From the Heart; Danger
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM brain-storming sessions. :)



Luka sat in the conference room, listening to the hospital
board president wax eloquent about budgets and insurance
and God knows what, but his mind wasn't really there. He
was thinking about more important things. Like how he was
going to present Alexandra with her gift from Croatia, for
instance. He was fairly good at giving gifts to others, but
receiving them had always been hard for him. He
remembered that bed Mr. Tompkins had given him in
Asheville.

Savannah Tompkins. Charlie's free-spirited-and very
uninhibited-daughter.

Now why was he remembering her again? He had met her in
the furniture shop, when Charlie had insisted he come down
and pick out any piece of furniture he wanted. She had been
standing right beside that big sleigh-shaped bed, a tall, leggy
blonde with pouting lips and a voluptuous figure. Up until that
time, Luka had strictly ignored women, finding it too
emotionally taxing to deal with them. Hell, he was sure that
several people he worked with figured he must be gay,
considering how he brushed off female attention. But
Savannah had made it very clear, from the start, that she
wasn't interested in taxing him emotionally. Instead, just two
nights later, she was taxing him physically.

Luka wasn't exactly proud of himself for having gone right to
bed with her. In fact, it had been a nerve-wracking
experience for him, the first time. 'Performance anxiety' was
a condition he'd never really thought about when it came to
his own abilities, but that night he had stood there, watching
her undress and suddenly feeling like running from the room.
But she had been persistent and...well, things had gone pretty
well. Very well, if the noises she'd made were any
indication. In fact, she had seemed delighted to be with him.
They had tested out the sturdiness of his new bed several
times for the next few weeks.

Luka had to admit, the sex had been *great*-mind-blowing,
in fact. She had made him feel good about himself in many
ways, and even though they had not developed any kind of
emotional attachment to each other, she had proved to be a
good, kind friend.

Surprisingly enough, Savannah hadn't seemed very upset
when he'd told her he was leaving Asheville. She had only
smiled and said that it was okay, that she understood, and
there were no hard feelings at all. "It wasn't like we were
going for anything permanent, Luka. We had fun, though,
didn't we? I'm not lying-*at all*-when I tell you that you are
quite simply amazing in the sack." He had been a little
startled by her declaration-in fact, she had giggled at him
because he'd blushed (which had led, Luka remembered, to a
particularly enjoyable afternoon in *her* bed). She had done
a lot to restore his self-confidence. But it hadn't helped him
develop very good 'courting' skills. He and Danijela hadn't
really dated a lot. He had ended up in bed with Savannah
less than forty-eight hours after meeting her. And he had
allowed Abby to control every aspect of their relationship until
almost the very end. This time...this time, Luka was
determined to do it right. Even if he had to read 'Dating for
Dummies' and 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From
Venus'. Even if it drove him and Alexandra both insane.

"Dr. Kovac, do you have any input on this matter?"

"Shto?" Luka looked up, startled. "Oh...uh...no. No, no
comment."

Kerry gave him a look, then kicked him in the ankle. He
looked at her, wincing and confused. "What?"

"The emergency department, I'm sure Dr. Kovac *realizes*,
is in desperate need of new equipment. We have several
machines that often malfunction...is that that kind of service
we hope to provide for the community?"

"No, of course not," Luka said. "Kerry's right. We do need to
appropriate more funds for... uh...the department."

Dr. Anspaugh sighed and tapped his pen testily on his yellow
legal pad. "And how, Dr. Kovac, do you intend to get the
money out of the finance department?"

"Uh...armed robbery? We could always kidnap one of Dr.
Romano's dogs."

Donald struggled to maintain his dignity, but he couldn't keep
from guffawing-succeeding, at least, at making it sound like a
cough. He had not had much opportunity to work with Luka,
but he had always found the Croatian's cool head and
common sense refreshing. Plus, he knew Kovac was much
more politically astute than Kerry. Sometimes, he wondered
if perhaps Kovac wouldn't be a better chief of the emergency
department than Weaver.

"I'm sure we'd have to go through legal procedures, Dr.
Kovac," Anspaugh said at last. "I suppose we could look into
some kind of string-pulling operation. And also, there's the
idea of fund-raising."

Oh, God, Luka thought. Fund-raising drives. Like being
tortured in a tuxedo.

"Fund-raising?" Kerry said. "That is an option to consider.
It's not like we need to raise millions. Just enough to pay for
a few necessary things, plus repairs to older equipment."

Luka gave her a cool look, then returned his gaze to Donald,
who was still fighting laughter.

"Whatever we can't finagle out of the finance department, we
can consider looking into some kind of fund-raising drive. So
if that's all, shall we call this meeting *over* and return to
our lives?"

Kerry nodded and smiled at Donald, who stood up, grabbed
his cup of coffee, and left. Soon, everyone was gone except
Kovac and Weaver. He turned to her and waited.

"Oh, come on," she said, shaking her head before he could
start yelling at her. "It won't be that bad. Perhaps...perhaps
a bachelor auction?"

"I would rather be eaten by a shark than be auctioned off like
some kind of prize...prize..."

"Stud?"

He rolled his eyes, snorting with disgust.

"You know, it's amazing how much you sound like a horse,"
she grinned.

"Kerry. You're the second person I've said this to today,
but...shut up, okay?" He took another swig of his Dr. Pepper
and pitched the can into the trash. "Besides, who'd buy me?
I wouldn't go for a nickel."

Kerry rolled her eyes. From anybody else, that would sound
like false modesty. It just amazed her to think that a guy as
unbelievably good-looking as him could be so completely
unaware of his own appeal. "I think you'd probably sell for a
couple of bucks at least."

"Right. Whatever. Can we consider something else? A
carnival...put Romano in the dunking booth, maybe? Malucci
can stick his head through one of those holes and have people
throw pies at him...that'd be much more fun."

"And you in the kissing booth?" Now that would bring us a
small fortune, Kerry thought.

"No. Certainly not. I had a friend who did that once and
ended up with a severe case of mono. Slept for the better
part of a year."

She burst into laughter, and he sat down beside her
again. "Come on, Kerry, throw me a bone. Any other ideas?"

"We have two pretty good ideas. Besides the one about
kidnapping one of Romano's dogs, of course. A bachelor
auction would really bring in the cash, but so would a
carnival. We'll put it to a vote some time this week."

A vote. He sighed and stood up. "All right. I'll see you later,
then. Got patients to torture."

"Yeah. See you."

Kerry smiled to herself, then dug through her purse for her
notebook. She had spent all morning on the internet, looking
for a really good German chocolate recipe. She had finally
found one she knew would raise Luka's blood sugar rates to
horrifying levels, and perused it quickly. She had an hour
before she had to sign in, so she intended to make a quick
trip to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients.

Come hell or high water, her friend was going to have a
*happy* birthday. He more than deserved it.

5 September 2001

9:15AM Must clean flat. Place is an absolute disaster area.
My bedroom looks like a troop of very messy thieves have
been through it-lingerie pulled out of all the drawers, clothes
hanging on changing screen. Luka told me, in a more risque
moment one night, that he and his wife once had a
conversation about how they should go about getting his
pants out of the ceiling fan. I have not gotten that bad yet,
but I'm close.

Kitchen is a shambles. Why the bloody hell do I put *empty*
orange juice bottles back in 'fridge? To remind myself to buy
*new* bottle? God. Scrubbing floors, cleaning windows,
cleaning cabinets and countertops, playing Robert Palmer
(that is, playing Robert Palmer's music, not Robert Palmer
himself). Wish I could figure out the lyrics to one of those
songs...have looked up 'Some Guys Have All the Luck' on
the 'net several times and still don't know what he's saying.
Apparently, he is saying 'Took my turkeys to Newark' at one
point. That sort of thing will drive a body insane. Unless, of
course, he really is saying 'took my turkeys to Newark', at
which point I do have to wonder about Mr. Palmer's tastes in
companions.

10:15AM Vacuuming, using *own* vacuum cleaner.
Accidentally pull plug out of outlet at wrong angle and cause
small electrical fire, which is quite alarming. Put it out
without much trouble, and sit on floor for v. long time, taking
deep breaths.

11:15AM Johnny called from Nairobi, informing me that Julia
is pregnant *again*. Will have *five* children now. I tell
him he is v. ambitious fellow, and he just laughs. "Not like we
were really planning on another baby, but we're thrilled.
Julia's doing well and the other kids are very excited. Oh, by
the way, Alice tells me you have a new boyfriend? A Cretian?"

"A Croatian," I correct him. "He's from Croatia."

"Oh. Yes. What's he like?"

"Very nice."

"Good. Wouldn't want my baby sister tangled up with another
jerk."

Johnny did, after all, punch Tom right in the face before he
called the police on him. Never did get my jewelry back, but I
suppose it was the principle of the thing. Brothers...they can
be such nuisances sometimes and so wonderful as well.

"So how are you doing? Do you like America?"

"I like it all right. Strange, though, that I come all the way to
America and I start dating another immigrant."

"Do you really intend to apply for citizenship there, Alex?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I like it here, and besides, the pay is
so much better in American hospitals. Call me a bloody
mercenary if you like, but I hated working for almost nothing
in English hospitals."

"And if a certain Croatian should, say, make a proposition
you'd be very inclined to stay for good, eh?"

"Perhaps."

He snickers. Johnny is a pragmatist, first and foremost, just
like Alice. "Well, next time I'm in America, I shall drop by and
check this fellow out. Make sure he's worthy of my baby
sister."

"Don't think you can intimidate this one, Johnny. You're a
queenie Englishman that he could easily kill with his right
index finger. Maybe even his right pinky!"

Johnny was v. amused by that. He is not too queenie, really,
but he's usually on a diet while I eat like a horse and behave
like Russell Crowe. He is the eldest of the three of us, and
always the one watching out for us. He 'vetted' poor Max to
the point that he was shaking throughout his wedding to Alice,
and when Tom broke my heart Johnny threatened to have
him killed. Big Brother Syndrome (not of the '1984' variety, of
course).

12:30PM Luka calls, with dark threats about doing anything
for his birthday. "I know Cleo and Jing-Mei are conspiring
against me. I'm warning you, Alexandra. If you're up to
something..."

"Up to something? Why, I had no idea it was your birthday."

"Don't try that with me," he said. "I'm becoming as paranoid
as Oliver Stone. I don't want a birthday party, Alexandra.
Just a quiet evening with no party favors and silly hats. No
candles, no balloons, no clowns...just you and me and a
bottle of good wine."

"No strippers?"

"Alexandra!"

"I'm kidding." Look at the list of items Jing-Mei has given me
to buy at the local party store. Black balloons, black candles
for the cake, and Dr. Weaver will be bringing a German
chocolate cake as well. Everybody will be here, apparently.
It was even rumoured that Dr. Romano will be coming! Augh!

"You'd better be. Now promise me...no celebrations? No
surprises?"

Hate lying to him so early in our relationship. But must lie, or
else there is no element of surprise. Beg God's forgiveness
and lie like a rug. "Of course not."

"Good. Then I'll see you later. Bye."

Let's all sing together now, shall we? "He's gonna be ma-
aad!"



Luka was greeted at his door by Jakko the dog, and knew
immediately that something Very Bad had happened. He had
hired the kid that lived in the apartment next door to take the
little cur for walks every afternoon, but apparently the kid had
the flu today so...oh, yes. There it was. A little 'welcome
home' present.

"Wretched dog," Luka growled as he cleaned up the
mess. "At least you didn't do it on the rug...did you?"

Jakko only sat there, tongue lolling, grinning at him. Luka
stalked around the living room for a moment, checking for
stains, but found none. Then he headed into his bedroom,
turning on the light. Then he turned it off. The bed was a
mess. Jakko had apparently taken his revenge on Luka by
totally destroying the down comforter.

"You bastard!" Luka shouted at the dog. "I swear to God, I'm
gonna have your jaja cut off...!"

Jakko streaked back into the kitchen, and Luka followed
him. "You should be a little more appreciative, you know. I'm
giving you free room and board and what do you do? Destroy
my comforter, leave piles of...crap...on my kitchen floor, and
then you expect me to be happy to have you around?"

Jakko merely jumped up onto Luka's couch and sat there,
grinning. Luka got Jakko's tennis ball, opened the French
doors that led out onto his little 'veranda', and threw the
ball. "Fetch!"

The dog merely put his paws on the back of the couch, tail
wagging, still grinning wickedly at Luka. For a moment, Luka
stood there, fuming. Then he had an idea. He went to his
refrigerator, got out the remains of his late-night spaghetti
dinner "snack" and put it in a bowl. "There ya go," he
said. "At the very least, it'll give you a nice case of flatus."

The dog ate the meal enthusiastically, and Luka stretched out
on the couch. Just two more days and he'd be forty. Forty
years old, single, living with a little dog. How pathetic can you
get? Of course, he did have a very interesting girlfriend.
Alexandra was getting more and more 'interesting' to Luka
every day. Everything about her fascinated him. She was a
very competent and intelligent physician, quite professional in
her attitude and behavior at work-he could find little fault in
her performance, except a slight inability to concentrate
sometimes-but then again, Luka knew he had the same
problem sometimes. She was kooky and forgetful, had an
odd sense of humor, and loved to laugh. Despite her slightly
strange behavior sometimes, she was still remarkably mature
in her outlook on life. She didn't seem to think she knew all
the answers-a rarity in most people Luka knew. She didn't
think she could fix him.

Well, he thought. She's not perfect. But she might just be
perfect for me.



8 September 2001

9:30AM Luka called this AM, a bit frantic. "Jakko ran off.
Apparently, he heard me on the telephone with the vet. I was
only asking about how much it'd cost to have a dog fixed, and
then Jing-Mei opens the door and off he goes..."

"He understood what you were saying?" I ask.

"Apparently. Should have spoken French."

"And he's nowhere in the building?"

"No. We searched high and low. Dammit...that dog is gonna
be the death of me."

"Well, he does have his ID tags and all, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then I'm sure you'll find him. Or someone will."

"Or perhaps a Mack truck will 'find' him and I'll be burdened
with the guilt of having killed my father's dog."

"Luka, whether you like it or not, he's your dog now."

"Ugh. Do I really have to claim the little monster?" He sounds
v. frustrated and upset. Perhaps he likes that little dog more
than he wants to admit. Anyway, I drive over to his place and
soon spot Jakko trotting around in a school playground, being
petted by children. I whistle at him and he comes over to tell
me about his v. interesting day of Escaping From Being
Snipped and Visiting Garbage Cans. He smells like...is that
garlic?

Luka pretends not to look relieved when he sees Jakko. But
then the dog starts licking his face, and that cold expression
fades away-for a moment. He pretends his pleased look is
for *me*, which is nice, because he gives me a kiss.

"Your dog smells like garlic."

"Yeah. Too bad. He won't be attacked by Dracula." He sniffs
at Jakko, who wags his tail and begins demanding his lunch.

Must head off to work and a Top Secret Level meeting with
Cleo, Jing-Mei, Kerry and several others. The surprise party
has been planned down to the last second, and nothing-
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING-can go wrong, according to Dr.
Weaver. Which of course means something will go wrong,
because otherwise it does not make for good comedy. I know
this for a fact-I've seen far too many Meg Ryan films to not
understand this concept. But apparently Dr. Weaver has not
seen a Meg Ryan film because she leaves the lounge looking
v. confident in how she has planned things. Jing-Mei,
however-who has seen Meg Ryan films-takes me aside and
gives me Emergency Backup Instructions. "If he demands to
go back home before seven o'clock, you get away for a few
minutes and call on your cell phone!"

God, what else should we do? Synchronise our watches?
This is a birthday party, not the Invasion of Normandy. I point
this out to Jing-Mei, who grabs me by my arms and shakes
me. "No, it's even *more* important! This is Luka weren't
talking about!"

Ugh. Drive-by shooting victims coming in. Run, run, run.



Luka eyed the little man sitting on the gurney, wondering
what the hell he had. Sixty year old male, presenting with
what he'd described as 'weird tingling' in his legs. BP not all
that great, at one-thirty over ninety, heart rate just a bit high
(about one-ten). Luka didn't want to interfere, but his own
patient, in curtain area two, was asleep and looking pretty
comfortable-though Luka had instructed Chuny to tell him if
anything changed, since the little boy had gotten a little puffy
after a bee sting-and besides, Luka was interested in this
case. There was something familiar about how the man was
behaving...he was complaining of loss of sensation in his
feet...

"Mr. Colson, have you experienced any pain? Shortness of
breath?" Carter was asking.

"A little shortness of breath. I just feel weak all the time," Mr.
Colson replied. He was a tiny man, probably no more than a
hundred fifty pounds, to Luka's thinking. Rather elfin. "And
my feet...I don't feel 'em too good."

"Do you have diabetes?"

"No."

"Any circulation problems?"

"Not that I know about. Last time I saw my doctor he gave
me a clean bill of health."

"When was that?" Carter asked.

"About a year ago."

"Okay, Lily," Carter said, nodding to the nurse. "We'll do a
blood glucose and go from there. Mr. Colson, why don't you
lie down here and relax while we do a quick blood draw."

"What do you think it is, Doc?"

Carter didn't want to admit that he honestly didn't have a clue
just yet. He glanced back and sat Kovac standing there, and
frowned. He didn't want to be shown up in front of the older
attending if he could help it. "We'll run a few tests and see
what happens, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just wanna feel my feet again, all
right? Is that too much to ask?"

Luka stepped forward. "When did this 'tingling' start, Mr.
Colson?"

"Who're you?"

"I'm Dr. Kovac."

Mr. Colson eyed him suspiciously. "Oh."

Luka caught the man's glare. Ah, one of *those* patients.
Carter took a deep breath. "Dr. Kovac is an attending here,
Mr. Colson."

"Ain't you an attending?"

"No, sir. I'm a fourth-year resident..."

"Oh."

Poor guy, Luka thought. Stuck between a damned foreigner
and a fourth-year resident. But he moved closer to Mr.
Colson. "Sir, I think it would be a good idea to perform a few
more tests...along with the glucose level. Just to be on the
safe side."

"Safe side? What's that mean?"

"Just as a precaution. Again, when did the tingling start?"

"Three weeks ago...I had just got over the flu and then I start
this tingling. Never had it before, but I figured it was...you
know...just one a' them things. But today I couldn't feel my
feet too good no more, so I came here."

"Ah. Can you excuse us for a moment while Dr. Carter and I
discuss something?" The man shrugged. Luka looked at
Carter, then gestured toward the door. The young resident
did his best not to scowl at the attending, but he obeyed
Luka's subtle command and went outside.

"I think you should order a spinal tap and an EMG, to rule out
other causes for the weakness."

"A spinal tap?" Carter said, narrowing his eyes. "And an
EMG? It sounds like the side-effects of the flu and maybe a
little muscle weakness...possibly even the onset of diabetes. I
think that if we treat this with prednisone, it'll clear up."

"That's very possible. But wouldn't you rather be safe than
sorry?"

"Well, what do you think it is?" Carter snapped.

A reason for me to take you up on the roof and drop you off,
Luka thought sourly. But he fought to maintain his self-
control. He had tolerated Carter's snide attitude toward him
for a long, long time and had learned to just let it slide. "I
think it could be GBS."

"GBS?" Carter snickered. "Just because he had the flu and a
little tingling in his legs?"

"And loss of sensation in his feet, shortness of breath. The
symptoms are very much in line with how the syndrome
progresses."

"Well, then, I suppose we can do the tests," Carter
groused. "But I think it's a big waste of time...and money."

Yes, and I'm sure the patient would appreciate your caring
attitude, Luka thought. He took the chart from Carter and
wrote up the orders, then headed back to the front desk to
check the board. He saw nothing new, so he headed back
into the curtain area three to check his bee-sting patient. The
little boy-an eight-year old with red hair and freckles in the
Opie Taylor tradition-looked up at him, obviously amazed.

"You talk funny."

"Don't we all?"

The kid eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno.
But you talk real funny."

"I was born in a different country."

"Do they have bees there?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been stung?"

"A couple of times."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yep."

"Did you cry?"

"Uh...well...I was four the first time it happened. And I think I
cried. I was sixteen the second time and it happened on a
soccer field. I was surrounded by other boys my age, so of
course I didn't cry."

"How long ago was that?"

"A very, very long time ago."

The kid shrugged and went back to work on his Mickey Mouse
coloring book. Luka grinned at him, relieved to see that all
the swelling had gone done. A few more hours, and he could
go home. Looking at his watch, Luka noted that he'd be going
home soon, too.



4:45PM Carter griping at Dr. Malucci about Luka. Can't see
why he should be whining because an attending caught
something he missed. Not Luka's fault the man had Guillain-
Barre Syndrome (GBS). Nor is it Luka's fault that Carter failed
to see it. Jing-Mei pointed this out to Carter, who looked v.
pissy and walked away. I kept out of it.

Jing-Mei caught me before I could leave. "Did you buy all the
party stuff?" she asked, keeping her voice a low whisper, as
though we are in a spy movie and I alone have the secret
code that will defuse the bomb and save the world.

"Yes, I *did*. And I also took photos of all those documents
from that FBI operative I've been sleeping with, just as you
instructed, comrade!" Say this v. dramatically.

She gives me a *look*, but skitters away as soon as she sees
Luka. I grin at him, and he comes over, one eyebrow
up. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

He looks suspicious, but says nothing. I am currently *lying*
to my boyfriend. Hope-really *really* hope-he will forgive me
when he sees how much everyone loves him. He goes into
the lounge to get his coat-he is driving me home-and comes
back out a few minutes later with Dr. Weaver hard on his
heels.

"I'm just telling you that a bachelor auction is really the best
idea, Luka. Dr. Morgan, surely you agree. And you, too, Jing-
Mei. Dr. Anspaugh told me that setting up a carnival would
be too expensive. He thinks the bachelor auction would be a
marvelous idea...we have several available bachelors and it's
for a good cause!" She is practically yelling at Luka, who is
scowling at her.

"I will NOT be auctioned off like a piece of meat," Luka said
angrily. I'm not exactly delighted about the idea myself. I've
only got a bit of money set aside for 'charitable donations'.
What if someone outbids me?

"Aw, come on, Dr. Kovac," Dr. Malucci says, swaggering
up. "I think it's a cool idea. I mean, who wouldn't want to
have a bunch of women bidding for ya?"

I eye Dave for a moment, then turn back to Dr. Weaver. "Are
you sure there's no way we could have a carnival instead?"

"Yeah. Dave volunteers for the pie-throwing booth," Luka said
quickly.

"Hey!" Dave looked insulted and bounced away. Ugh. Really
should smack him with a clipboard one day. Or perhaps a
portable X-ray.

"I do not want a bunch of women bidding for me," Luka said.
He looks at me, licking his lips nervously. But what can I do?
Not like I'm capable of stopping this from happening. I'm new
here, and have no say. And Dr. Weaver is the chief, and Dr.
Anspaugh has the final word. I sigh and shrug. Luka looks
positively *stricken*, but finally turns back to Dr.
Weaver. "All right. Dammit. Good cause, my ass. If this
was a *bachelorette* auction you'd be howling for
Anspaugh's blood."

Kerry only snickered and walked away, looking v. triumphant.
Why do I have a feeling *she'll* be doing a lot of bidding on a
certain Croatian? Lesbian? I'm having my doubts.

Mustn't think about that now. Have a flat to decorate for the
party tomorrow night. Am v. nervous about this. Have never
been good at deceiving people.

10:30PM Helium balloons a bloody *bitch* to deal with, esp.
black balloons. Jing-Mei came by to help out, and I now have
forty of them stuck to the ceiling. With extras, we played
around for a while, filling them up with helium and then
inhaling air and talking like Alvin the Chipmunk. Have bought
black candles, which seem a tad morbid. Have also bought
Luka presents, which I am now staring at. A new Gameboy
hand-held thing (racing cars) and a v. nice silk tie. Hope he
likes them. Have also bought new cocktail dress that I hope
will get Luka in good enough mood to keep him from killing
me for lying to him.

Will have a lot of trouble sleeping tonight. But shall not drink.
Need to have clear head tomorrow.

On to 20c!