lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary

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Cry, Cry Baby

So now my Word is bold (that wasn't bold, it just looks bold to you because you, like me, are a moron). Like that guy on Electric Company who used to be old, but just add that b and now he's bold. Except my Word is both bold and old.

I got The Body Project out of the library tonight which maybe wasn't the best idea, because my boobs are about to pop, resulting in premesntrual confetti strewn about the land, and my vagina is thisclose to bleeding a river of fertility, and as a result, I have cried today about the following:

• A brief commercial for the Olympics
• The Ashlee Simpson CD, Autobiography. Not because it sucks, but because it's better than you'd think.
• The cover of The Body Project.
• Getting my library card renewed.
• Paying my $14 fine (curses on you, Carl Sagan!).
• Buying a protractor at Target.
• DS and I resurrecting a two-year-old argument about whether or not "the mouse was out of the house" on a trip to Chicago in 2002, then my laughing way too damn loud at work, then my inability to stop laughing once I hung up. After all that happened, boom. Tears.
• The nice weather we've been having.

That's right, sports fans, I got misty at a topic people struggle with during painful small talk.

And now I'm supposed to read about American girls and the ever-widening chasm between their emotional growth and their physical maturation? We'll see how that works out.

In a related note, I might start referring to my vagina as my "chasm." What's that you say about emotional maturity?

10:24 PM - 26 July 2004

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