The cats are panting.

You wash your hair, go outside, and before your hair even dries you sweat through it and it's dirty all over again.

Satan is sitting in your living room fanning himself, saying "Christ, it's hot; why don't you get an air conditioner?"

Everybody was so cranky yesterday at work, and I was just so cheerful and Pollyanna-ish and laughing at them and teasing them until everyone was about ready to kill me, but if I hadn't been laughing I would have been just as cranky as all of them, so fuck 'em!

I was at the front desk and the Sales Rep King was standing there waiting for someone so that they could go out to a meeting, and he was holding his suit jacket and looking at it, and then he looked at me and said:

"I just can't put on my jacket."

And I told him that if he did put it on he would have to be carted away to the madhouse, but he just seemed so distraught about it.

I think the Sales Rep King has a dress code in his head that he takes a little too seriously.

And thus the diet begins!

I've gotten alot of mail on this one (a real lot, not a diarist pretend bullshit lot) and everyone is being very sweet and supportive, and occasionally throwing in the phrase "beautiful on the inside". Which is cool, and certainly true (my entrails are stunning--you should see them sometime) but I have been working on my inner beauty for about five years now, while my outsides have gotten scarier and scarier, so I think it's about time that I become shallow and appearance oriented. For a little while, anyway.

I seem to have inspired a few people to diet along with me as well, so now it will be really REALLY humiliating if I flake. So I won't.

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