Oh, I went to a Whale. I said, Killer Whale, please.

In a pickle. I'm in a pickle. I'm sitting right behind my boyfriend Phil at the coffee shop and he is talking talking talking to his coworker and I have my headphones on but no music playing but I still can't make out everything he is saying because I bought these damned "dj style" headphones that block out all sound in the known universe but I can't take the headphones off because then he'll know I'm eavesdropping. Mostly I think he is saying stupid things so I'm probably not missing out on anything but I still want to eavesdrop. It isn't fair, I tell you.

I love internetty radio-ey. It is really great stuff. Really great stuff. You wanna know what I did today? I slept until 11:30. I ate two pieces of toast and drank two cups of coffee whilst playing Age of Empires and watching Sleepy Hollow. Johnny Depp is so funny. The other day my brother was asking me if having a crush on Kurt Russell makes him gay and I said totally, because Kurt Russell is a very manly man. He asked me who it is okay to have a man-crush on and not be gay and I told him Johnny Depp. Because he is hot no matter what. Nomatter Wot. And then he started talking about how he likes Kurt Russell because he has had this great career and that he's liked him ever since he was a kid and I told him that liking Kurt Russell in that way makes him not only gay but a gay pedophile.

So after watching Sleepy Hollow and the making of Sleepy Hollow and the interviews with the cast and crew of Sleepy Hollow, I took a 2 hour bath and started reading Fast Food Nation, which I purchased for 3 dollars yesterday. Then I did some other things, puttering type things. I ate a bowl of cereal. Crispix. Because its crispy times 2. Then I watched this weird Oregon dance competition on TV. Then I watched Jeopardy. I did quite well as a couple of the categories were strictly popular culture trivia and there were some wordy ones. I always do well on the word-play categories. One of the contestants looked just like Janet Reno. She looka-like a man, in other words. Then I got dressed, packed up my laptop and various types of insulin, put the dog out into the cold night, and hightailed it to my favorite coffee shop. Usually my boyfriend isn't here this late. I hope tomorrow is as action and funfilled and productive as today was. I start work on Monday and I'm done with school for this quarter so I am trying to get as much laziness as I can out of this weekend. So far, so good.

So all I've had to eat today is two pieces of toast, two cups of coffee, a bowl of cereal and a 16 oz vanilla latte and I'm starving to death. Maybe I'll be good and go home and eat something healthy. Or maybe I won't. We'll see. Won't we. I really shouldn't wait until 9pm to eat dinner. and lunch. I should try to be better. I can't wait until I work at the hospital and can eat hospital cafeteria food every day. Wow! Is my ass going to get fat. Fatter. This is going to be the blog posty-post that never ends. Oh, I forgot part of my day. I watched the Lawrence Welk show also. What a great show. I love the colors. The vibrant beautiful colors.

My pretend coffee shop boyfriend Phil's birthday was Wednesday. I know because I was here at the coffee shop and this crazy old man who gets 14 refills of the same soda told him happy birthday and asked him how old he is and he is 26. I thought he was younger than that. I was relieved. Being a stalker is THE MOST fulfilling part of my life. It is so great. Really. I totally understand stalkers. I understand the void it fills in their lives. Our lives. Every tidbit of information found out through clandestine eavesdropping or furtive glances fills me with a warm fuzzy feeling.

I'd better go, I think they are trying to close up shop for the night. Damn. I wish I had a life but poor chachi probably wants to come in anyway. I should write a book about Phil and the coffee shop. I should write it here in the coffee shop and then make a million dollars off of it. I would write him as a very unsympathetic character and he would be like, "why does that crazy girl who comes into the coffee shop hate me so much?" It will be the literary equivalent to kicking him and pulling his hair because I like him. What a great idea. That's probably what he thinks I am doing anyway since I come in here and type away forever. This blog is getting to be too.. oh what's the word.. confessional. Yes.