06 July 2000 ~ Nicole Kidman, cops, and mad groceries...

So guess who doesn't have any housemates anymore!?

I admit, I was kind of mean and nasty about it, but it was rather satisfying. I've received roughly 120 dollars from Jeff and his boyfriend since they moved in around Easter, and the two of them refused to give me anything when I asked them the other day. Why? Because they bought each other "commitment rings" and paid for something to do with their truck.

I deserved to be mean and nasty.

So I cleaned the kitchen, put a password on the computer so that you can't sign on, and turned the music up as loud as I possibly could. It was R.E.M.'s "Monster" -- loud, but not angry. Then I put little notes all over: "Only people who pay rent may use the computer." And, "Only people who pay rent can use the CD-player." And, "Your aunt called; you may call her back collect." I was thinking about putting one in the bathroom that said, "Paying customers only," but that just seemed cruel. Not UNNECESSARILY cruel, but... well, maybe a little overkill.

And when Jeff confronted me about it, I stood in the doorway between the dining room and the living room, leaning against the wall with one arm raised above my head like I was the tallest, sexiest woman in the entire world. He started giving me stupid excuses and whining and pleading. So I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, thought long and hard about Nicole Kidman's character in "Eyes Wide Shut," and then said, "I just don't give a fuck," in EXACTLY the same way she would have said it.

Then, I was so pleased with myself for sounding exactly like Nicole Kidman, that I really DIDN'T give a fuck, and my responses to all of Jeff's begging and cursing were cool and pleased.

Sometimes, I like myself so much! Sometimes, it comes at exactly the wrong moment, like when I'm telling somebody they can go live on the streets and die for all I care -- I guess I seemed kind of heartless... But DAMN, sometimes I surprise myself with how collected and confident I am.

Nicole Kidman rocks my world.

I watched a Lifetime movie about a chick who gets ripped off by a guy who makes up a story about her husband being in the mafia; she ends up going into what she believes is the Witness Protection Program.

I don't like cops much. Although I greatly respect cops who don't put on their sirens just to go through red lights.

I went to the grocery store earlier. It was awesome; I got TONS of food: five boxes of tea; hamburgers; steaks; Purple Crush soda; lemon-lime soda; strawberries; blueberries; pears in a can; sour cream; and The Good Kind of pickles. Nobody in the universe except Giant markets seem to carry The Good Kind of pickles; I haven't had them in ages.

Then, of course, I was so stupid I decided to walk home, roughly ten blocks. A very nice lady with two little kids in the car picked me up and brought me home. This is the third time I've taken a ride from a stranger, and I'm kind of getting used to it. That's probably a bad thing.

I have to go now. I'm exhausted.

~Helena*