13 July 2002 - 12:58 p.m.

What, precisely, are they keys on the keyboard that, when typed concurrently or consecutively, have the power to delete an entire diary entry? Hatbox knows, but she's not telling me.

Yes, after nearly an hour of typing yesterday morning, my cast decided to trot across the keyboard and send my finished entry all the way to oblivion, just as I was about to type a short-but-pithy title.

Oh, well. Most of what you missed was the exciting retelling of Gus' birthday, which involved a fondue bash. Which was kind of like a cocktail party without cocktails, seeing as how cheese is cheaper than booze.

How is it that somebody always says somethign offensive at a cocktail party? I wonder this after having had to listen to the fiance of one of my oldest pals joke about what kind of allowance she'll get when they're married, and how many pairs of shoes.

A word to those betrothed: if you can't go out in public with your significant other without at least once having to chide him/her for being an ass, maybe you shouldn't get married.

It just strikes me that the majority of people who are invited to parties in spite of the fact that they annoy the host immeasurably are invited because they are married to someone the host likes. How's that for an imperfect system?

I have my own, secret, passive-agressive system for expressing my disapproval of a marriage. In the interest of making it a public passive-agressive system, I will admit that if I don't see a marriage lasting, I won't purchase gifts off the registry.

I didn't start this consciously, really, it seems to have started out as a matter of convenience. Unconciously, it was probably my desire to run everybody else's life kicking in. If my gut desire tells me that what they really ought to have is not one of the many items they requested, what I'm probably saying is "You don't know what you want, anyway."

God, that seems harsh. But common sense is harsh, and it's still worth something. I mean, if a girl can't pick herself a good man, how can she pick herself a good toaster?

As I see more and more of my friends getting ready to take the plunge, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ready to follow just out of some desire to place a happy couple on the other side of the marriage line - matrimonial equillibrium? It's as if the deep voice of Karma is calling me to show the world how it's done.

I am totally kidding with this, by the way, but I should mention a little bit of disturbing irony: last night, while seeing Guys and Dolls, I caught a cold from the air conditioning in the theater.

Now, unlike Adelaide, I have not been waiting 14 years to get married. For one thing, I would have had to have gotten engaged at the age of 8, which - well, ew. For another, I couldn't see myself waiting around for a man for 14 years, particularly if I was a stripper. But that does not necessarily make my sniffle any less creepy.

I have so little food here that I think I will nibble on a chocolate bunny for lunch, and try to find a clean handkercheif.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: