25 August 2001 - 7:43 p.m.

I swear to God, Digimon should be outlawed just because of its themesong.

I should have known that when Ben, Barbara's son who I babysit for a rent reduction closed the double doors between the living room and the TV room that I was about to be annoyed by something. "Oh, Ben, you don't have to close those," I said over my cross stitch. "I'm just sitting in here to be near this lamp."

"But you probably don't want to hear the sound," he said, knowingly.

Having seen maybe three minutes of a Digimon episode, I wasn't sure what he was getting at, considering that I knew for a fact his parents hadn't rented him porn or The Wall , and I couldn't imagine being offended by his movie.

Sigh.

I won't go on much longer, since most of today was spent in dire agony with cramps and nausea. Mine is not a happy uterus, let me tell you. I actually felt so nasty after the ramen Gus was kind enough to make me for lunch that I actually begged my way out of dinner with him and friend Matt, but recovered in time to join them for some clear soup and ginger ale. After hearing about two incidences of him jumping out of the shower thanks to an inconsiderate flush, and one incidence of his skinny white ass losing miserably at strip poker, I mentioned something about my period, and he was thoroughly grossed out. All I could say to that was, "At least my thing is natural. You playing strip poker? Not so much."

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: