kdiddy.org

I was about to tell you (you, that is, big fat nobody since zero people read this journal) that I couldn't update my journal despite my empty desire to do so because anytime I clicked on “update journal” the internet would be all, “can't load that page”. But now it's working again…but before it wasn't so I couldn't update…but now it is…so now this is updated…

what?

But anyway, I hope you didn't take offense to that big fat nobody comment (of course, I don't know how you could since you don't exist and therefore don't have feelings). I highly doubt that anyone goes cruising Live Journal for someone random to read about because a) most of these are somewhat mundane, anyway and b) it's more fun to read about your goofball friends. Which brings me to a lonely point: I don't think I have any goofball friends…or at least I don't have any friends who use live journal who consider me a goofball friend who posts wacky things. Of course, I don't think anyone knows that I have this journal besides Trout and he's a busy man. the boyfriend knows it once existed but thinks I renounced it in the name of his privacy. (whatever) Tricia knows but uses some other fancy pants journal thingy. Paco knows but he's busy with the folks over at blogger. I haven't asked because I don't want to seem desperate but I don't think he's bothered to look in this journal's direction…which is just as well.
sigh.

I almost forgot to mention: I'm going to see Margaret Cho tonight. I'm giddy. No, giddy's too small a word. I'm ecstatic. I'm going with the boyfriend, the Other Intern from Pulp, and one of my former bosses from Pulp. That will be odd since I don't think we've really been in a social situation before. There's also that new millenium tension in that she had seniority over me despite being younger (well, only by a year but…have you met my raging insecurity?). She's also quite hip and I am a huge dork.

I had a dream the night before last that I moved back to Shady Forbes Terrace, but that some of the houses had been torn down and replaced with three-story houses. Liz Janco, or some representation of her, was sitting on the porch telling me how the terrace has changed. She pointed to one of the three-story houses and told me that a Puerto Rican family lived there and that 17 of them occupied the house all at once. Why am I having racist dreams? What the fuck is that all about?
I had a rather amusing dream last night but of course I've forgotten it.

One thing that I must do every morning (after I check my email, of course) is go to www.imdb.com and read the celebrity gossip column and check out the celebrity birthdays. I honestly don't know why. All of the gossip sounds completely fabricated and trivial. For instance, one of today's juicy bits was that Nicole Kidman's hands at the Golden Globes looked like she has been doing dishes all her life.
Another thing that I do every Tuesday and Friday is the AIM Rate-a-Buddy bullshit. Occasionally, one of the girls strikes me as being decent but I hate all of the guys. I think I just hate anyone who would seriously put their picture up to be rated in the hopes that someone might think “Hey I'd like to have sex with that person!”
Other random thoughts:
I'm sick of the U.S.
The job that I was vying for went to another person. I'm discouraged.

Major things that need to happen:
1) Get a motherfucking job.
I'm working on this one, seriously. I'm just sick of being in my financial situation. Everyone says, “Enjoy it while you can.” However, outside of spending ample time with my son (which is awesome, I admit), I don't see what's so enjoyable about being 24 and being an unemployed loser.
2) Get my driver's license.
This is very close to happening. My driving lessons got a little screwed up with my recent bout with Norwalk virus but hopefully I'll be taking the test before the end of the month. I imagine it will also help with #1.
3) Lose weight.
Yeah, I may be buying into societal bullshit but that doesn't change the fact that none of my clothes fit. I can't buy new clothes due to #1. Plus, I can't really use the “I just had a baby” excuse now that he's over a year old.
4) Get a haircut.
My shit's way too shaggy.
5) Work on day care for baby.
I'm not sure how this is all going to play out…much of it depends on #1 and how soon things happen there.
6) Organize my crap.
Of course, if UPMC buys our house to demolish and make way for the humongous Children's Hospital then I might as well just leave everything as it is so I can just sweep it into boxes.
I think that's it for now.

I'm considering taking a few of these pills because I have a headache and I'm curious to remember what it feels like to drift off into sleep, slightly against my will.
I came downstairs, away from the toasty warmth of my goose down comforter in search of a cookie given to my son at Eat N Park tonight. However, my dear friend seems to have taken all of the leftovers home with her. No matter. I shall have to kill her later.
Of course, you may be wondering why I was going to gank my son's cookie. Well, I'll tell you…HE HAS NO MOLARS! No, not a horrible accident, he is only a year old. His chewing skills are not up to par. While I won't mind if he indulges in the occasional cookie or two when he does have molars, I most certainly will mind if he chokes to death on one before he has molars. I am Mommie Dearest, aren't I?
Gosh, I'm tired.

I insisted to the BF last night that I haven't been using this journal and I honestly haven't been.
However…it got me thinking.
I'm trying to work out this article I'm writing for Pulp. I'm very nervous about it. I want it to be good…I'm afraid I'll just sound like a dork and they will burn me in effigy (did I spell that right?).

I need a makeover

It's becoming very obvious to me now that most of the people that I considered to be good friends of mine are no longer so. I haven't talked to Frank in weeks and when we have spoken things have felt very strained. I don't like talking to Paco because it's not that I don't understand being depressed…I've been there plenty of times but being so full of self-pity and not even trying to recognize that you don't have it so hard really pisses me off. It pisses me off when I feel that way or when anyone else feels that way. Jonah I can still kind of talk to…
I hate the fact that they're so fickle. They don't like me because of BF, having Baby, not being able to drink, and living out here in bumfuck. What a bunch of useless alcoholics. Why do I care?
It's amazing out of all of the people I know Stacey is the only one I can depend on. I want to move out of this city. I want to start over somewhere else.
I hate having my period.

I again stole one of Tricia's surveys. I need to start using this thing more often and I needed something to get the ball rolling. Thanks Tricia!