"i wander through the lingerie departments of stores and just laugh. But it's not a haha laugh. it's a bitter laugh, a laugh that knows that consumerism has not done right by me."

Did you miss me? Saturday, July 14, 2001 @ 08:00 p.m.

I missed me. My threadless tshirt came and it kicks ass. I have a tan and strong, scary canoeing arms. Yeah. Fear me.

Saturday, July 7, 2001 @ 10:38 p.m.

As I type this on Cam's stylish mac, my friends are all downstairs playing "Hash Pipe" OVER and OVER. Thoughts: The optical mouse is sexy. I think they're more loud than good. Cam's neighbours hate us. I had half a drink around here somewhere, but I don't know where I put it down. I never, ever want to leave the world.

Saturday, July 7, 2001 @ 10:13 a.m.

oh god, please get me out of here.

Friday, July 6, 2001 @ 10:30 a.m.

we spent all day getting sober just hiding from daylight and watching TV we look a lot better in the blue light these days get so long and I've got nothing to do...

El tiene mi corazon en su boca Thursday, July 5, 2001 @ 12:05 p.m.

you know i really like you, you know i really care... Wednesday, July 4, 2001 @ 03:13 p.m.

but i think your bedroom was made by Frigidaire! I am making a sign for my parents' car that says, "For Sale Really Cheap" and our phone number. "Should we get some Ruffles?" "No, because we'll get depressed and eat them all in one afternoon. Get some cookies we don't like, they'll last longer." Thanks, mom. I want to play Monopoly, but only with someone who will let me win. My sister always beats me, always. I could have all the good properties and a thick Emergency Fund and she'll still win because she's lucky and I am not lucky and there is no Justice-capital-J in this World-capital-W.

jocelyn. loves. sentence. fragments. Tuesday, July 3, 2001 @ 11:19 p.m.

I want to go see Amores Perros at the Princess because it's in Espanol. I want to sleep in tomorrow and I think I will. We went to see SEXY BEAST and i didn't get it at all. then we went for pizza. I don't understand pizza. I'm bored so I think I might go to sleep. Sleep is, like, the best cure for boredom and it doesn't involve spending too much money.

there are times when all the world's asleep Sunday, July 1, 2001 @ 01:43 p.m.

Yesterday James and I went to see AS YOU LIKE IT, the outdoor production in hawreluk park. When I got home I wanted to check a couple of the lines, so I checked if I own a copy-- and I do. It was published in 1919 and is in terrible shape. It looks like this: And inside someone had written Arthur and Jean Bovair, with a backwards 'j', had also signed their names in it elsewhere. I guess they got their money's worth. I'm not sure why, but I like other peoples' books. This morning Angie phoned me to let me know there was a quarter of a bottle of rum in the cupboard in my basement where we keep our movies. I went and got it and poured it down the sink. I'm glad she remembered.

"that's where the library wrestling team practices" Sunday, July 1, 2001 @ 12:48 a.m.

i feel like i just got hit by a truck. but, all is not lost because my toilet is now fixed. For I must tell you friendly in your ear, Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer... Happy Canada Day, argh.

you can't be first, but you can be next. Saturday, June 30, 2001 @ 10:36 a.m.

"if i had a purple freezie before and i'm having an orange one now, does that count as two food groups?" "no, they're both in the same food group: frozen sugar water." one year ago: "I would like it if everyone wrote something today, and then said it was Jocelyn-esque." I don't really think I can be truly happy, because my toilet is broken.

If I'm wearing a sweatshirt, then it's not fucking summer Friday, June 29, 2001 @ 09:18 a.m.

"...I like the idea of eating chocolate cake for breakfast." "THAT REMINDS ME! I HAVE TO MAKE JELLO!" "WHY DON'T YOU GO DO IT RIGHT NOW?" "OK!" Thanks to my sister's brilliant advice, I now have delicious lime jello for breakfast. Yum. Why I'm up so early, however, is a question for greater minds than mine. I mean, from now until July 18th (that's a long time in human years) I have to work only ONE DAY. This coming Tuesday, from 9-5.30. Other than that I'm FREE. So please please let's do stuff. Also: one year ago i was 24% slut; today I'm at 23%. Go figure.

Weekly World News headline: will YOU adopt this one-eyed cat? Wednesday, June 27, 2001 @ 10:00 p.m.

You know, I hate my job. Since it's something I have to do (money, ya know), I try to tell myself I don't mind it, and sometimes I almost believe that. There are perks, definitely: the aforementioned money that lets me buy Gigolo Aunts CDs, the customers who ask me "Where can I get a Pez shirt?", getting to read every new issue of PEOPLE without having to subscribe, and Canada Post's dazzling array of stickers. I have good days, where everyone is civil and I come and leave ontime and get paid more than mimimum wage; and then there are nights like tonight. I wandered down the aisles at quarter after nine, waiting for the customer from hell, staring blankly at fake plastic plants (why does my store have fake plants? no one ever buys them, ever), party favours, miniature cribbage boards, and packing tape. A scrubbed-looking young blonde kid pounded on the door shouting, "CAN'T I JUST BUY SOME CIGARETTES?" and I told him, semi-politely, that we were closed, then added outloud, "and besides, you're, like, ten." And it suddenly struck me that I'm tired of walking to the bank through the rain to make deposits, tired of emptying half a dozen garbage cans that smell like macdonald's, tired of running out of loonies, and tired of spending an extra twenty minutes at work after the end of my shift (that i don't get paid for) because some customer doesn't know the postal code of the parcel she's sending and her kid has to go to the bathroom. I'm tired of all of it. I'm tired of being underappreciated, I'm tired of doing too much work for too little money, I'm tired of never getting overtime pay, I hate the amount of noise the air conditioner makes, I don't want to have a chronic headache anymore, and I'm tired of selling cigarettes and laxatives. I'm tired of all of it. So I sat down on the (dirty, disgusting) floor and talked to this little girl in a fabulous pink hat about the monsters that live in her wall and a mosquito she met in our bathroom, and as I stood up I KNEW that i am going to find another job. Yes, they depend on me; but they shouldn't. I don't get paid enough for them to depend on me, and I'm not letting my overwhelming, oldest-child sense of personal responsibility control me any longer. I'm fucking sick of it. The reigning queen of retail steps down. I'm finding another job. I want to do some other menial task for awhile. Besides, I'm a genius. I make good cheese biscuits, speak three languages, and can do mental math in my head (you know, as opposed to the kind of mental math you do OUTSIDE your head). I have a good sense of humour. I have an extensive knowledge of pop music from the 1950s and 60s. Also, according to ALL ABOUT YOU magazine, my crush style is "Miss Popularity," my "summer sitch" is "money-making machine", and my room vibe is "crazy and chaotic", making me the "diva of disorganization". In theory capitalism should be rewarding me for all of this.

kiss that girl goodbye Wednesday, June 27, 2001 @ 01:08 p.m.

for once in your life Monday, June 25, 2001 @ 02:23 p.m.

i don't have to work tomorrow night, and i want someone to go out with (friends? old boyfriends? strangers?). these are possible things i want to do: (a) go to mail art exhibit at the library (b) watch spanish movie at princess (c) eat pizza (d) go to the bar (e) not work. i'm fun. please call me. (4870522) thank you. also, it's fucking cold in this house and my toes are freezing and i have done nothing today except play mah-jong and eat oatmeal cookies. and you know that's not right. phhht. another day of blues.

don't leave the light on, baby Saturday, June 23, 2001 @ 10:39 p.m.

three years ago: "I hate multiple choice tests, because in Chem you're expected to calculate the answers and then pick a multiple choice answer. This sucks for the lazier members of the audience as its WAY easier to just pick one and hope it's right (which is usually my choice). Thus, a failing mark." two years ago: "fact: i have hip new black glasses. myth: i am a freaky mutant robot insect." i shouldn't have tried to hunt down an entry from a year ago, because now i'm crying. well, forget it: one year ago: "we're going to my grandparents'. i wasn't going to go-- actually i thought maybe you could come over while my parents were gone, and i would spend the rest of the time studying-- but as it is now, i think i'd better go with them. i don't want to spend the next 48 hours alone, and would could be better than with three other people and a hyperactive dog in a little car?" well, forget it forget it. turn up branvan3000. i'm tired of believing, in anything. As Graham Greene writes in the final paragraph of THE END OF THE AFFAIR: "I found the one prayer that seemed to serve the winter mood: O God, You've done enough, You've robbed me of enough, I'm too tired and old to learn to love, leave me alone for ever."