January 12, 2003
The Spice Melange
Hoorah. Frank Herbert is yet another one of my dead author boyfriends. I am so excited about this movie... I am nearly finished with Dune Messiah and then to Children of Dune! I just love Paul Muad'dib. He is yet another one of my fictional character boyfriends.
You know, I think I must have been a nerdy boy in another life. Maybe in the seventies. My interests certainly don't stray from those of the Trekkie and otherwise nature.
I feel like a cup of tea, but I have already brushed my teeth. And there is nothing worse than Colgate tinged Earl Grey, as far as I am concerned. Except maybe disembodiment.
Tomorrow I have my second interview at the Texas Roadhouse and let us all cross our fingers and toes and all other crossable appendages that I get this job. I desperately need it, seeing as I have pretty much quit Argosy. I didn't go in at all this weekend, mostly not my fault, but I certainly didn't make a fuss about it.
I'm willing to wear tight pants and make-up for the Texas Roadhouse! I must abuse my feminine wiles for all they are worth just for money!
That is one of the things I loathe about Argosy. Not only do they quell individuality on all levels, they also make it a point to keep their employees from looking attractive. Our uniforms are tailored to shroud our bodies, and it's horrible and wrong. I mean, I don't flaunt my ass, obviously, but I can get really crabby when I look bad. It's a Libra thing. I hate it, but I can't deny the validity of it.
Like right now. I am angry at the Scooby-Doo pajama pants because they make my ass look big.
Maybe my ass is big!
Hmmm. My bed is looking mighty comfortable right now, both to me and my horrendous ass. Tomorrow I must rise at seven, but at eleven-thirty I will be thrown into the company of my beloved.
Which is, to say the least, lovely.
The other day he was playing Tetris on my pathetic original Nintendo, and he was saving his score under the letters 'POTW.' I queried after this behavior, and he told me to guess what they stood for. It only took me one guess, and I began to giggle uncontrollably at his employment of my rather inappropriate nickname for him.
POTW stands for Princess of the World, naturally.
I love my wonderful-fantastic and spectacularly silly boyfriend.
astera at 10:34 p.m.