Here I am in the New World (as I named my new dial-up connection). Drifting in an anti-Splutty world of greasy-looking fraternity boys and bleached-out sorority girls, I scramble around looking for motivation not to run screaming back home. I found it after my programming class on the way to the bookstore. Means to an end. My programmer auntie told me I should get a $40-50K starting salary. That would get me a cute apartment well on the way to a cute house. And I will have a cute car and possibly Pookie II and baby Pookie III (Hello Kitty style of course). All with Sailormoon-personalized desktops and system sounds. "Moon Crisis, Make UP!" Pookie screams. Someday I will release on my page a Sailorspluts Desktop Theme. Pookie appears to lack whatever Plus! program needed to install themes, so I have to unzip and change one bit at a time. Tedious but occasionally worth it. Pookie had a short phase of Sgt. Pepper last month.
I have never been so glad to get a busy signal in my life. Lately Pookie has been saying it can’t find a dial tone. The trauma from the car ride and the heat/humidity factors have me worried about its innards. I know there is a dial tone. Busy signals I can deal with. Daddykins will get me another provider and an air conditioner, because they love me desperately and tell me so. Why does that always make me feel like a quarter-whore…dime-whore…nickle-whore.
Scout and I just exchanged the ritual female weight-whining. She said she needs to gain some weight, and I told her take ten pounds off me. She told me if I lost any more weight I’ll look gross. I like her now. 125 or die trying.
No. My little sister sent me e-mail saying my parents are worried about me. They should be. They keep getting phone calls and e-mail during my downswings. I’m exactly manic depressive enough for my friends to see me as strangely moody and not enough to be given medication for it. I have a measles shot at 3:30 Monday. Maybe I’ll ask for a dose of Valium or something.
I get lonely. Even me. Sailorkitty the Splutmomma herself. Sworn antisocial corner-lurker. Why the hell am I lonely? The voices are always there in my head! I’ve got Sailorwombat and Slutter and Punkie and Sailorsomething and Sailorwhat to keep me more than running in circles. Puddi and Mom and Dad send me more or less amusing e-mail, and Bill makes me snicker over my adopted-Pookie in the comp lab until everyone else checking their mail slowly backs out of the room and tries to lock me in.
HOLY SHIT I GOT A CONNECTION. Hail Eris.
Oh dear. It’s contagious. Long Live the Discordian Splut.
And now I have to get offline so that horrible girl can call her scary-ass boyfriend.
Compromise is how all wars begin.