30 August 2001 - 11:21 a.m.

Where the hell have I been? Well, in a nutshell:

-Pondering the political correctness of the term "village idiot." I think Squirrel Hill has one. There's this obviously mentally-deficient guy who talks to himself a lot and tries to shake hands with people. He's always in Squirrel Hill, but I don't believe he's homeless. And he looks at me with a seriously lecherous gleam in his eye. KKKKKKllllllaaaaaaaaggghh. (That's how to spell the gagging noise I just made.) Anyway, I have very little sympathy for him, for that reason. So yeah, Squirrel Hill has a village idiot now. He wears a purple shirt. Sign my guestbook if you know who I'm talking about.

-Not reading this stuff I have to read for my 12:00 class. I feel really stupid about this. I went to get the book I had purchased two and a half years ago for a different class with the same (hot) professor, and realized it wasn't on my shelf. Fuck! So I looked in the library for it. Checked out. Fuck! So now I have to tell my (hot) professor that I didn't do the reading, because even though I have the text, I never actually checked to see whether or not I had it in my possession. It is most likely gathering dust at my parents' and I can get it this weekend. Ordinarily, I'd just sit in the back and hope the (hot) professor didn't call on me, but the disadvantage to having taken three classes now taught by the (hot) professor is that when no one raises his or her hand to answer a question, the (hot) professor defaults to, "Jennifer, you probably know; why don't you tell us?" For the third time this entry: Fuck!

-Cleaning the kitchen floor. Apparently, some of Hattie's, er, waste didn't quite make it to her litter box, and instead clung to her fur. So she got the brilliant idea to drag her behind along the kitchen floor until it was all gone. Gus and I walked in just in time to see her pulling her oddly contorted body around with her front paws, creating a long brown trail on the linoleum. It was at once charming and unspeakably disgusting. I don't know why I felt the need to write about it, since I try to avoid talking about poop at all costs - my father and brother really wore out the subject (which I really didn't find funny) when I was living at home. So I hope I didn't offend anyone. I'm still trying to decide for myself why this is a good story.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: