03/01/2004 - 1:53 a.m. | SLAP SLAP AND SLEEP IS WHAT I DO BEST.

Fucking pissed now. Tried to play a song, ended up losing diary entry and getting Aretha's "Respect." Don't taunt me, whore. For whatever reason, in my mind this seems like it was a really boring weekend. I don't know why that is. I did enough of the stuff that usually makes me happy - movies and adventures and work - and I made the decision not to go out myself, so I don't know what the problem is. Guess 'cause I'm a whiny bitch, no?

Woke up at 1 (my little plan to "accidentally" sleep through the lab practice session failed) and eventually made my way over to the psych building. Of course, I still had absolutely no idea how this was going to actually help me, so I just stood there staring for a minute before I drew some half-assed diagrams so that it would at least appear that I had come for some reason. That done, I fled to Walgreens for some junk food. Man, I have been eating so many tacos lately. I've been on food kicks before - ice cream, donuts, whatever - but tacos by comparison are fucking gross. At least my colon appreciates it. "Oh, good! Another violent spray! I was just about to get some nutrients from that food!" That darn cat. Oh, here's a crucial error: Trying to put a heavy bag of groceries on your broken ass handlebars. Maybe you won't tumble over on Green a half a block later, but I am less cool than you.

I fudged some diagrams what with my extensive medical expertise and tried to dig up all of my old notes, but I lost my very favorite set (based upon the cute drawings contained within, of course), which some might consider a detriment, but I am trying very hard not to surround myself with negative energy. For instance, if I am frantically searching for these notes with just minutes to spare before I need to get to work, it's not entirely constructive to tell me, "Oh, you're gonna be sooo late!" The next person to give me a similar pep talk will gain a pipe wrench to the clavicle.

So, I was supposed to work at Kenney tonight, doing the same old thing I used to do... except they now have two people assigned to sitting around and watching people write their names. Good one, DCR. So Dave Morin (the only person who actually asks to take on extra shifts) and I took turns sitting by the door or hiding in the office. I have seemingly lost all patience with, well, anything because I was jumpin' about tonight. I'd study and then dig around in the creepy old cabinets. Then maybe a little "chemistry" (taking random first aid products - ice pack innards, peroxide, alcohol - and mixing them together to see what happens) and perhaps an excursion to find something to eat, except everything is already closed at 10:30, so I'm stuck with Frosted Donettes from Hell and some singing. And then maybe studying again. Like I said, where's the patience?

OK, this was a little weird for me. When my hour in the office finished up, I walked over to the gym so that Dave could switch me, and he was lost in his own little world. He didn't notice me approach. Hell, didn't notice me when I asked him if I wanted to switch. Or when I stood there for ten minutes watching the Dodgeball Club or whatever. There's something severely creepy about that, though. You start to think that maybe you don't exist or something, and you want to go yell slurs at people to make sure you're still tangible. But did I resist? Oh yes. I did. And now, should sleep. Will not. OK! Meanwhile, fuck Spicoli. Bill Murray so should've won best actor.