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August 31, 2001
Okay, for real this time.

Okay, for real this time.

What day is it? It's Friday, day before the Labor Day weekend, and work is deserted. There's a few people here and there, naturally me among them. But I'm dumping, not working. Not right this minute anyway. I was. Really. After my doctor's appointment.

Joel lost the job he never had, which sucks. Hopefully it'll work out and something will come through for him soon. I'm sure it will, but it's a tough blow to be ready for your last weekend of relaxing before starting work in a new city and find out that they've "bumped" your position to another district. Damn bastards.

I've fallen into the fashion trap. For years I only had two pairs of shoes. Hiking boots that I wear in the winter, and running shoes (sneaks, kicks, tennies) that I wear in the summer. Suddenly, I've found myself with about 5 or 6 pairs of shoes, and it's a nightmare. Let me s'plain.
In Portugal, I got a pair of nice sandals. These I like, and I needed some. It's too hot here in August for socks and shoes. I could handle the sandals.
But a few weeks ago I bought a pair of Merrell slip-on type moccassin things, and the store was having a buy one pari get the second half off, so I picked up a pair of red Pumas too. I like the Pumas a lot, and I've worn them more than the Merrells, but here's the problem: Now when I get dressed in the morning, I actually stand there looking at a line of shoes and wondering which I should wear. And then I put a pair on, look at them for a minute, and sometimes switch to another pair. I haven't gotten used to the Merrells yet, so I often put those on and then take them off. They're super comfy, but I just don't know what I should wear them with. Sometimes I actually have to walk out to the living room and look in the mirror to see if I look like a schnook.

This is clearly unacceptable. Used to be, I got up, and if it was warm or I was going to play sports I'd put on my sneaks; if it was cold I'd put on my hiking boots. Simple. No problem. I never ever ever thought about shoes. Now I see them as some weird torture devices. Maybe I should just burn some of them.

The other day I was going to the bathroom and the lady that cleans the place was coming out. She had just made the whole bathroom all spiffy, and I went right in there and peed on it. I always feel bad when that happens. She just scrubbed out that toilet, and she sees me go in there to take a crap right on it. How would I feel if someone came over to my desk and took a shit right after I finished some testing work? I'd feel bad, that's how.

So from now on, I'm gonna pee outside.

Denyse's blog from last night is funny as hell. That girl is really clever when she wants to be.. I particularly like the part about the gay guys shooting themselves with love. Cam around full circle, tied two stories together, it was brilliant. Rock on, cutie pie.


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