happy fucking three weeks
10 November 2002 at 12:58 pm

this is what i wrote on friday night:

//

You don't go to a diner for service - maybe just for the ambiance. Either way, here I am, and I want coffee. Here is how I'm spending this altogether too-hyped Friday night: sitting in a dive diner, smoking cigarettes, and drinking water while my boyfriend drinks his ridiculous sorrows away. Nothing, she says, I've got nothing. Although I have everything: a promotion at a job I'm not supposed to have, a nice session of sex that wasn't supposed to happen, and a beautiful boyfriend who's not supposed to be here. Yet, happiness: always surrounding me, never within my grasp. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough, but jubilation is supposed to be inherent in situations such as these. One of these days, they said, just wait, the insisted, it'll happen, they promised. The day came, the patience was granted, and indeed, it happened. As always, it wasn't what I was expecting - which, I suppose, was to be expected.

//

last night was so incredibly fucking pissy. It was our three week and we decided to celebrate by spending way too much money on shoes (aaron), sex toys at toys in babeland (me), a usb2.0 port and the swingers dvd (me), and chalkboard spraypaint (joanna). we popped by the hurricane while he got drunker and i got pissier and we got home and watched swingers, which he apparentely hates, and cleaned the entire fucking apartment, which michelle appreciated, and blah blah blah. i stop talking to him because i'm pmsy and go to sleep on the couch when i hear him singing along to weezer and then he starts crying. i start feeling supremely bad and we go to bed but i end up on the couch again because i can't sleep without my fan so i have a stiff neck tonight.

i've ceased making sense, so we're going to go work out now. maybe i'll make this coherent later.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.