June 6, 1998
Just now, in the past few minutes, I finally got the punch line of a joke I heard back in the fifth grade. Of course, back then I laughed, prentending I got the joke, as did my classmates, probably including the teller of the joke (who heard it from his big brother). And after all these years, I can say that the joke wasn't that funny.
June 7, 1998
If I could be anyone in the world, I would be Miss America. Imagine all of that good will you could share with folks all over the country. Sure, they'd be staring at my breasts and trying to peek up my dress, but I'd still be spreading good will, and that's all that really matters when you're Miss America like me.
June 8, 1998
There is an uneaten apple sitting on my desk since last week. Life is like that. My generation is like that. Once you get past the thickened skin of indifference, past the fleshy meat, down the the core, the very center, you find inedible seeds, seeds that if concentrated, would kill a man. But if taken in small doses, will only cause diarreah. I always have a difficult time spelling the word "diarreah" and usually end up, whooped, running to the dictionary. Must be something in my childhood.
June 9, 1998
I have yet to live this day.
June 10, 1998
Festive? You might say. In fact, you might even say that I was feeling down right jovial last night. After I got the call I sat amazed and pondered it for a while until the reality finally set in. Yes, I will have to pack up everything that I own and try to explain my height upon my arrival, but I'm going to be the best darn circus midget this country's ever seen! Oh, and I finally ate that crusty old apple that's been sitting on my desk. It tasted awful, but alas it was not wasted and that's what mommy always taught me. That's what I'll tell the doctor when he pumps my stomach.
June 11, 1998
On my drive in to work, I though a lot about life, growing older, and gingersnaps. As a child, gingersnaps were a delicacy, much sought after but rarely obtained. Now, having attained adult status, I can (and frequently do) go into any store and buy out their entire supply of gingersnaps. Then I can take them home, fill the bathtub with them, strip down and dive right in. And while I enjoy this new-found intimacy with these tasty molasses cookies, some of the mystery of my youth is gone--along with the yearning for them. Perhaps it is knowing that I can have them, that they are not out of reach, that day or night (thanks to the modern 24 hours supermarket), I can fill my gullet with mounds of gingersnaps. I never really liked the taste of gingersnaps but I seem helpless to stop myself from frolicking among them. I don't have much furniture any more. Had to move it all out to make way for gingersnaps. My friends don't come around much. I personally like to sit on a mound of crunchy 'snaps and don't mind pushing my way through the crushed, dusty remains of their brothers to get to the bathroom. I... don't... feel well... right now. I hear them calling me...
June 12, 1998
I just realized that I spend a lot of my free time working on Internet sites, sites that only a few people will see, people who, collectively, will spend far less time looking at the site than I spent making it. And it makes me wonder, is it really worth the effort, this new art form of Web Page Design. Is it worth the pain of horrible mouse fingers? Could I spend my time better serving the world by instead feeding the poor, visiting ailing senior citizens in rest homes, taking bastards to the zoo or the playgroud in the place of their real fathers, or perhaps just improving myself by reading a book about how to align my chakras using a pair of tweezers and an orange Tupperware melon baller. But then I realize, "Hey, it's time for 'Talk Soup'!" and I forget such useless fancies.