Okay, all awake now.

This probably makes me a horrible lush, I know, but I must say there is some taboo pleasure in having a beer at 3 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon.

I don't have all that much to say so this will probably be another dedication entry, even though I have like a zillion of those. Ah well.

So, without further ado:

First to BigBluePuma, who oughta be ashamed of me for taking so long to get that, I now challenge you to get the following out of your head for the next 12 days: "I'm Gary Gnu! How do ya do?" (note to others: BigBluePuma is A., very kindly not linking back to her own diary with my actual real honest-to-goodness name in it, and BigBluePuma is a joke from our Early Years (which is what I hope the after-school special about my life titles that just-pubescent time) which god forgive me I canNOT remember how it came about to save my life, nor can I remember where the Gary Gnu bit came from (other than the Great Space Coaster (come along!) of course) I mean I remember the show but not how A & I wound up singing that so much, dammit we were geeky -- my parentheses got a bit out of control there. Sorry about that.

There is something about reconnecting with a friend from when you were 14. For me at least. It's very different from reconnecting with a friend from when I was 16, 17, or 18. Because 14 was Before. Before all the shit started. Well, most of it. I mean, I was a wreck then too. But time moved more slowly, I think. I wasn't bouncing around from place to place, from people to people. I was your standard out-of-the-box depressed suburban teenager. It's strange to remember a time that seems like there was all this stuff between now and then. Strange in a good way. Given the events of my later adolescence, a lot of those memories got overwhelmed, and it's sort of nice to look back on stuff that was a lot more normal-teenagery. Makes me feel like I did in fact have some time as a real kid.

Oh, and to everyone: I know I personally have been shitty in the signing department. Until today actually I've been on the computer relatively little, for me. Yesterday mom's poetry reading, then Date With Boy. Friday work, Friday night went out. Rest of the week in Jersey. All the time I've been on the machine I've been busy Doing Things. But I have an hour or so to catch up, so some guestbook-storming is in order.

Shiv -- feel better, jeez. And for vertigo nothing beats Dramamine...it's the only drug there is that stabilizes the inner ear (as opposed to a general anti-emetic, which basically just shuts your stomach valve, which is not necessarily a good thing (vanity, correct me if I'm wrong, hey?)

Kat -- you sound like you're doing better, and having been on the Cocktails myself, I can tell you at least that once your body adjusts, the side effects die down. HowEVER, it does sound like you're having an allergic reaction. This is not uncommon, and frequently manifests itself in muscle spasms. I highly recommend you nab a Benadryl right after you down your Paxil. If it doesn't help, well, it's not an allergic reaction, but it's worth a shot. Same thing happens with Haldol (do NOT get me started on THAT one). Good luck and many hugs.

muff, lay off the crack, jeez. Although at the moment I do believe that my bum is, in fact, hanging out. But I don't care since the only one around to see it is Dog, and frankly she's seen enough of my bum that it really doesn't matter.

MG, the Boy is quitting because he decided he feels too shitty in the morning. Now, I am rather afraid that this may point to a disturbing lack of machismo in my boyfriend. I have personally accepted feeling shitty as a fact of life, and simply deal with it. Although not all of that is attributable to smoking, to be sure. But I'm trying to be supportive over here. Eventually I too will have to lay off the coffin nails...I'm just afraid I don't have enough native Cool to make up for the loss of same if I quit. As for therapy, yeah, beLIEVE me I know all about it. Also believe me that I have my reasons to think it is not necessarily the avenue of choice for me at the moment. Therapy for me often sends me in the exact opposite direction due to my intricate and well-developed defense mechanisms that like to shoot first and ask questions later regardless of my stellar intentions. It requires more pondering for me than just "hey maybe I should go to therapy."

Wings, you're such a complete doll, and any man who's not crawling over broken glass to find you is out of his mind. Thanks for making me feel loved, as always.

Sine, glad to hear the leg's better, and that the mood is better. I always know that once you start bitching about Our Esteemed President (gag) you must be feeling all right.

Kira, thanks for the thoughts. I'm working on the self-doubt thing.

Sio, there is just no way in hell I can justify spending $1200 (at least) to buy you a sandwich, much as I might like to. You're going to have to content yourself with things I can by from afar.

Bot, sweetie darling, where are you? Did you stop loving me? That would make me sad.

Cher doesn't get a link because apparently he has stranded himself in some kind of non-updating snit and I am not endorsing that.

In other news, I think I am liking the superlow jeans although a couple of pounds off the ol' ass would make me like them better. The socks are making me very happy given my previous Sock Situation.

And I think that's all I have to say for now.

- onehanded