i did NOT ask for god to smite my darling snailandsky! i did, in fact, say the following to the lord, hallowed be thy name:

"god, if it is in your Master Plan, please bestow your light upon her and inform her that just because i played softball until i was 13, shaved my head regularly for much of my young adult life and often fantasize about gina gershon in tighty whities and a wifebeater writhing on my bed in masturbatory ecstacy does NOT make me a...well, a LESBIAN. i may be queer, but i'm no fuckin' dyke, lord. amen."

i demand a retraction, snailandsky, i demand one right now. DOWNTOWN!

in FACT, this morning i did serious karaoke dancing in my car(which i have been known to do) the whole way to work, ALL IN HONOR OF THE KARAOKING SNAILANDSKY. jeesh.

so, if you saw a girl dancing like a pro and singing ziggy stardust and making up lyrics to suffragette city (i actually motioned like i was shooting a gun when i sang "she's a total blam blam" that's right, i said it, blam blam) while she barrelled down the 24, hey that was me !

you know what though? my very favorite david bowie song ever in the whole world is "heroes". best song.

not so good for animated car karaoke, but really really good all the same.

sometimes, i am so fucking cool i can't stand it.

in other news, i think my right eye is going to fall right out of my head. it feels all tweaky and red and scratchy and i just went over to the Co-Worker's desk to ask him for eye drops (which he didn't have. blast!) and to pull my eyelid up as far as i could so that he could look under it to assure me that no, during the drive to work the sahara desert did NOT move to the top of my right eyeball.

i am looking around my desk to see if there are any tools i can use to perform some sort of cubicle sugery (which i have also been known to do) on my eyeball. but i don't know what i could possibly do to my eyeball with an exacto knife, various colored highlighters, the pair of scissors i have been meaning to steal since the first week i was here, scotch tape, a stapler, a rock climbing "tamboni" (spelling?), a gluestick and a pound of iodized salt.

none of those sound like they would make my eye feel better at all.

the thing i like best about the way my hair has been acting lately is that i have stopped brushing it altogether and now it's forming nice long natural ringlets of curls all over. it's not dreading or anything, i'm not a fucking pdx hippie for pete's sake, but it's just doing this real nice natural thing that i really dig.

and my hair is heavy! i really like how it feels when i piled it up on top of my head and then let it fall down on my shoulders/back. in the privacy of my cubicle, i have been known to do this upwards of 50-60 times a day. it's a really weird habit that i didn't know i could develop. no one warned me of it when i set out to grow my hair long.

and since this is the longest my hair has ever been, i had no history to draw upon.

tonight i think i might finally get a chance to scan the book i made for lu, so i am all kinds of excited. as soon as i do, i will post it! yeah!

i wonder if i can go home early for tweaky eye? i could "go to the eye doctor", which would really just mean i would go to her house and laze about and smoke cigarettes and shoot the shit.

WHICH IS ALL VERY GOOD FOR MY EYE!

ok, i am going to go read or something. i don't want to write anymore right now.

ps--oh, by the way, if you followed the surgery link above, notice how little has changed since i wrote it. i talked about logic, looking for a new job, and being tired. i wish i could tell you i feel badly about this, but it's a diary, not a fucking novel, people.

pps--i really hope god does NOT smite snailandsky, because she is the only one to say she would meet me on a freeway somwhere exactly between here and there.