Again I dreamed of that actor-guy who was my classmate from fourth to twelfth grades. But every time I dream of him, he appears as he looked back then, not as he looks now. "Hey, 'Joe-Blow,'" I said nonchalantly, not even feeling jittery. See, the thing is, this guy was my yardstick for what I wanted in a "mate." It was the yardstick by which I measured my ex, who's about the same height and coloring. At the time I reasoned to myself, "It's the closest thing I'm going to get to 'Joe.'" What the fuck am I gonna have to do to quit dreaming about him, seek him out and have a word? Yeah, right, another nobody from his past who comes out of the woodwork now that he's famous. *snort*
Miss Peep is getting fat and I don't know what to do to control her weight.
10:52
The girl in the office is sporting bruises on her face and her arms too. I asked her if she's okay and she answered me with an elaborate story of how she was chasing her cats and they knocked over a mirror in her apartment and it fell on her. I don't believe her. For one thing, the story was too detailed, and for another, I witnessed she and her boyfriend having an altercation one night. I got the impression that he was the one with the power in the relationship and that she was completely cowed. I mean, he was screaming at her, very verbally abusive.
I got an email from Mike, wishing me a nice weekend. Thanks, motherfucker.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 9:37 AM
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