06/27/2000

Whyyyyyyyyy? I don’t care for Pepsi, but if they came out with Pepsi with only one calorie, you can bet your bippies I’d be drinking it. And don’t try to tell me that Pepsi One tastes just like Pepsi. I can taste the nasty artificial sweetener taste, and can’t stand it. Though it’s been a while since I tried it, and maybe I should try it again. Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. So I’ve been drinking a lot of water, which means I have to get up 45,000 times a night to pee, and I don’t think I ever really wake up completely, just stumble to the bathroom while asleep, and stumble back to bed, probably still snoring all the while. I’m surprised I haven’t squished the kitten yet, since she likes to lay in the warm spot where I sleep while waiting for me to return from the bathroom. Holy god in heaven. Check this out. Last time I had my hair cut and colored, I made my next appointment, six weeks from then, and Beverly promised to call and remind me the day before. Well, this weekend I realized that this week would be 6 weeks, and I couldn’t remember if my appointment was on Tuesday or Wednesday, the problem being that if my appointment was on Tuesday, the hair place isn’t open on Monday, and therefore Beverly wouldn’t be calling me the day before. I know! Thrills and chills all the time in this journal! For some reason, I decided that my appointment was tomorrow, so I got up, did my exercise tape (which kicked my ass as usual) and took a shower. By the time I got out of the shower, it was 9:40, so I called to find out what time my appointment tomorrow was. I know y’all can see the next part coming. “I don’t see you for tomorrow… Oh, you’re down for 10:00 today!” the helpful lady who answered the phone told me. So I had ten minutes to get dressed and be out the door, which I did with time to spare, of course. Hell, it’s not like I wear makeup or anything… The irony, of course, is that I got there before Beverly and had to cool my heels for ten minutes. Mean, heartless kitty I’m not sure why, but the kitten appeared to be mad at me the other day, and despite my pleas for her to come lay on her pillow on my desk and let me rub her belly, she wanted nothing to do with me and instead curled up with the wires between my desk and the shelves holding my cpu, printer and scanner. Whatever she was mad about she got over fairly quickly, but I’m curious to know what made her hate me so. Last week, I made a small deposit – $20 – at the bank, to cover a small check I had written the day before. And, since things were going so well on the banking front, this is the time something had to get screwed up. When I checked my checking account online – a habit I suggest you all get into (checking your own accounts, that is, not mine) – I saw that not only had they credited my account with a 20 cent deposit instead of $20, but the check I’d made the deposit to cover had come through, and they paid it, but it also incurred a $25 NSF fee since I hadn’t had enough to cover it. I called and the customer service lady made a note in the computer, but it wasn’t until today that they credited the other $19.80 to my account. That’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think? 4 days to catch a mistake like that? Anyway, I called and they reversed the NSF fee out of my account. I guess that’s what I get for playing it so close with my checking account. I rented The Teena Brandon Story Friday, along with Flawless, Trick, and Mumford. Fred and I watched Mumford Saturday night, which we both liked more than we’d expected. Then, since the movies are due back Wednesday, I watched The Teena Brandon Story last night. It was interesting, if a little repetitive. They had a limited number of pictures and therefore had to keep showing the same ones over and over. The main reason I rented it was so that I could see what the real people looked and sounded like, as opposed to the Hollywood-ized version. It left me sad, but it’s such a sad story that I should have known it would leave me that way. I also watched most of Flawless, and while the Philip Seymour Hoffman (Fred referred to him as “Philip Michael Jackson Hoffman Seymour” last night) as drag queen gimmick was interesting, the movie was a waste of time. Unless, that is, there’s a super-duper extra-special twist ending in the last ten minutes, since I haven’t quite finished it, because Fred was haranguing me to come to bed. I returned Mumford and The Teena Brandon Story after I had my hair done today, and rented Hanging Up, Anna and the King, and The Talented Mr. Ripley. Luckily I have until Sunday to watch them, because I still have Trick to watch as well.]]>