March 8, 2003

  • Finals almost over.  Thinking of inviting Brett up to my folk's for spring break--that is, if we're still together.  He pissed me off AGAIN last night.  Chelle caught him at TGIF's eating steak and fries with that "older woman," Marcie, 24, a graduate student in biology.  Okay, so he was out with the guys and she asked to join their table.  Chelle gave me the full report last night over Bisquick quiche Lorraine, our humble scraped together dinner.  Ruined my entire weekend but what are friends for?  Made me appreciate her more for a change.   I can't figure M. out.  She's one of those I'll-be-there gals who doesn't even seem to exist when we're hot and heavy, but enters stage left when we're on the slide, gentle and oh so understanding, patient and tentative and perfect.   But if all she wants is another boy toy, I wish she'd bug out!  My heart's breakin', here. 


    To work out my rage I decided to clean the tub enclosure and came upon a petrified tampon stuck like one of Mr. Sayler's stogies in the upper track of the shower doors.   That's what I get for being immaculate; no one ever wipes up there!  But I'm proud of the gleaming tiles and toothy white grout; maybe the dearth of mildew etcetera will discourage Mizzes Roach from skinny dipping here.