Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,

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Hi Honey,

How are you feeling? I'm feeling a little bit closer to normal today. Been sitting up, doing normal things, sort of. But here's a good one, I don't have a clue what day it is. That can't be normal. What day is it? Monday? Yeah. Okay, got that. Sheesh. Teeth hurt. Nothing new there. Hard to write and think. Want to clench my jaw. Hmmmm. Tired, super tired. Didn't sleep much, mostly obsessed on how much I hate to get up early, then got up early, blech, picture me spitting here. Scoobie Doo is on, at least some things stay the same.

My neighbor's poor, stressed out dog, is barking like crazy. So much for the pretty tinkling sounds of the Tibetan wind chimes, drifting in over the gentle splash from my fountain mini pond. I will not sign that petition, I will not sign that petition. Dog hating neighbor bastards. Bark bark bark bark, bark bark, woof, woof, woof woof.

Just antibacterialized my hands so I could pet the new ferret before the other ones turn him into a bitey ferret monster. I might have enough energy to type up a journal entry for my livejournal pals but shit I'm fading real fast here, fuck fuck fuck. Heh so much for the I won't swear resolution thing, fat lot of good that book did me. Hey, Geena Davis' dress, was there a picture in the Times? I never got to stare at it long enough. I wanted to be certain I could see...certain...things. (Boo for Renny Harlin, woman hating monster dick.) I think her show's gonna bomb, but I hope for her sake it doesn't.

I got a pedicure and a poorly executed (I'm grateful for any kind of touch) neck and shoulder massage from my hardworking Vietnamese galfriends today. I learned how to say ouch, which sounds like ow but with a d in front of it, dow. So now I can stop her from squeezing my arms, in that kind of rough absent minded way that leaves those bruises. Called Beau's transportation idiots and fought with them. I thought we were automatic returns for this year, nope. Fuck.

Stood around the trees in Brentwood that I don't want them to cut down. My little letter is there tied to the poor tree, fluttering alongside all the others. Got some literature from some nice Earth Firster kind of gal. Admired her a lot. Right on hippy tree hugger gal! Joined the phone tree, volunteered to stand in front of the chain saws, form a human tree cutting barrier if we have to. It's not like I'm gonna climb a tree, give it a name and live in it for a year or two. Figure it's the least I can do for those beautiful trees.

Met Beau's new teacher, worried about the days he missed, his green hair, my wild red, ethnic, wacky braids. Wrote a loving letter to her, lucked out for once, turns out she's young and motivated, hasn't reached the burnt out, disillusioned, sad teacher stage yet. Super nice and sweet, thank you God. Thaaaaaannnnk Yeeeuuuuwwww Jaaaaazus!

Confronted the GATE program coordinator (Gifted And Talented Exceptional) and was ready to tear off his head over the pig fetus dissection horror they put the kids through last year. Told him I would marshal seriously opposed forces if need be, and he said he doesn't think they'll do it this year. Shook my angry fists at him, in my own uniquely loving way, and told him he'd better let me know if they plan on doing anything remotely like cutting open anything that, as Madonna so sweetly puts it, "ever took a shit." Well, I didn't say that, but I did shake my fists. Okay well, I didn't shake my fists, but I did tell him he looked like he'd gained a lot of weight and then I made a really unfriendly, determined, twisty-mouthed smile thing at him. He got it.

Came home, took every kind of pain, cold and flu pill they make, and vitamins, and lay sideways on the bed while I watched a really depressing but well made movie I'd seen many times before, They Shoot Horses, with Jane Fonda and Michael Sarazin(sp?). Remember him? Reincarnation of Peter Proud. He was so beautiful, those big eyes and lips, and a damned good actor too. Whatever happened to him? You think he went to jail for a bad heroin habit that caused him to wander aimlessly into people's houses and ask for slippers? Oh wait, what was I thinking that was some kind of celebrity amalgamation, Robert Downey Junior and Anne Heche, Ecstasy and Poppies, whatever. I get Gloria Estefan and Celine Dion mixed up too.

Now I'm just trying to forget the pain in my teeth, and I'm going to kiss my ferret and then the chinchilla. I hear the clicky bug in the patio. I like him. Why do bugs scare you? It's not like he's sharpening his teeth or anything. He's just fluffing his wings or something. Oh funny, I can get him to do it by clicking my cheeks at him. Ooops spoke too soon. He only fell for it once. Harumph. Jake is grrrmeowing at the door. You know what I'm too tired to type up a journal entry and I feel like I've abandoned my friends so I'm just going to copy this there. I just won't tell them how much I like fucking you, heh, maybe I will.

Oh yeah Big Brother. Am I the only person on the planet that loves this show? George is mad about something. I gotta see dis, oh man, he's fomenting a revolution.
Ratings, they're gonna dig this. Oh man, smack my head, this is edited, smack, smack, they didn't have to choose to show this Wacqui. I wish the web cast had sound. I still love the chicken cam. Is George losing it? Or is he truly smart? Okay, that's it, I'm delirious.

I love you honey,
Me : )

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