If they can make mint flavored condoms....

Why can't they make mint flavored surgical gloves for dentists and their assistants to use.

I have to say the taste of latex kinda kills the thrill of having a dark nice looking man with big hands and the smell of Laugerfeld hanging around his scrubs manipulate my jaw into the position he wants it in.

I think I need to be alone now.

I only own a dozen or so tote bags.

So why am I still hauling around my school back-pack a week after I dropped the class and shlepping everything I need around in the portable mess? Hell, it only took me three days after dropping to pull the textbook out and leave it in the back of my car, and that sucker was heavy!

Do I really need three month old grocery store receipts?

If I examine and inventory the contents of the bags, will that inspire me to clean them out? Or will it just send me into the throes of a depression that I can only climb out of with a hot fudge sundae and three different kinds of Zingers? Maybe that's why I make things hard on myself.

Was I a self-flagellator in a previous life and this is the most effective way of punishing myself in this one?

ORDER SOME PEACH COBBLER!

So, it's like this. I work with a "warlock". A self-ordained warlock. He also photographs ghosts, at least that's what he tells people he's doing. I'm not so sure he isn't casing the place to come back and rob them later. Maybe that's why he never complains about being on night shift.

He's in the office now, getting bawled out by his supervisor's supervisor. He's may be getting some unscheduled days off. And we're worried because nobody brought any chicken bone necklaces to ward off the evil curse he might throw on everybody in the building, so we're thinking that we better call the chicken joint and have some delivered. But they won't deliver for under $ 6.00, so we'll have to order some sides. I vote for peach cobbler, that'll push it up over $ 6.00.


Are self-ordained warlocks as powerful as the one's who get the degree? I need to read more Harry Potter.

Ok, went to lunch in the rain. Really, in the sprinkles, the sky was gray and the wind was cool and for a minute I just stood there and breathed in the ionized air and enjoyed the change in the weather. It never really started raining but it was a good ten degrees cooler than it was when I went on my coffee break earlier.

Ok, well, it's been a while again. Summer school can sap your energy just lke Rheumatoid arthritis, but I blew that class off last night, hell with it. It's summertime and the living ain't easy, why make it any harder on myself when the heat index is up to 105 degrees at eight o'clock at night. I'll just go home and hide in the air conditioned comfort of my bedroom.

Ok, treatment update. As of a month ago I have started taking the cancer drug Methotrexate for the treatement of aforementioned Rheumatoid arthritis, with mixed results, but overall I have had more pain free days lately and have missed fewer days at work. Ok, the being able to come to work on a regular basis may not be such a good thing, but being able to work the clutch in my car is fantastic!

Wow, it's been a while. Not that I haven't been doing anything worthy of writing about, I just haven't been in the mood to write about anything. Rheumatoid arthritis can take the joy out of life faster than any bitter old harpie relative at a holiday dinner ever could.

Just got back to the office from the doctor's office. That place is some kind of trip. I hate making an appointment becuase each time I need a doctor, I have to make a descent into HMO hell. I'm sitting in the waiting room, there is a woman to my left reading "Miracles in Motion" ok, but could she please read quitely to herself, no, she's one of those mumbling readers, cheese, read out loud or be silent, maybe she hopes to spread the word of God that way. Who knows?

In the next waiting room but certainly not out of hearing "Savannah" and "Sawyer" are with their mother waiting to see the pediatrician. It only takes thrity minutes of "Ring Around the Rosey" and "London Bridges" before their mother gets tired of all the noise they are making and starts yelling about "all the sick people who would like for it to be quiet". Yeah, and I'd rather hear "London Bridges" again than you trying to reason with a sick four year old. But then, I got the distinct impression that the four year old was the most mature person in that conversation.

I don't need to be saved. I don't have a ton of credit card bills or student loans. What I need is a country house in the Sussex region of England. Can you send me a dollar? Maybe I do need to be saved, from myself.

I had a lot of ideas of things I would like to post last night. Then I slept, and this morning I can't remember a one of them.

Ok, so it's Monday afternoon. I've consumed four Diet Cokes, half a box of thin mint Girl Scout cookies and a couple of tacos from Taco Bell. Trust me, it was way worse coming back up than it was going down.

What would life be like if I could just say to hell with personal hygenie, clean clothes and the microwave. I could live under a bridge, I wouldn;t have to have a job. I'd never have to clean my room, the city would eventually come along and do it for me, and well, shit, really can't depend on that because I live in Houston Texas and the government doesn't get around to doing shit before they want to make some lame assed bid for the Olympics.