9/30/98
I called in sick to my job because I was supposed to go on a job interview, but I didn't end up going to it and wasted my day doing nothing. It wasn't a good job. I'm not that lazy. Something called The Social Register that publishes crap about corporations. They didn't say what the company was in the ad, but I should've been wary because it said, "quiet non-competitive environment". That's nice in theory, but probably creepy. I watched too much TV and Julia on "Party of FIve" was all silently hurt because Griffin was seeing some girl, but meanwhle she's got 2 guys after her, but is too stupid to do anything. She can go to hell. The only guy who's nice to me is the middle-aged foreign guy at my corner store who thought I just graduated from high school. Him to no one in particular:"Why? Why?" Me: "Why what?" Him: "Why are you so sweet?".

9/29/98
Jeez. I'm such a retard. Instead of writing notes on scrap paper at work like usual, I decided to type them instead. I'd noticed that the temp before me had written about his favorite bands: Steely Dan, Joni Mitchell, Los Lobos, "Soul Coughing: too hip to explain" and was stupid enough to leave the file on the computer. At lunch I was thinking how dumb he was to do that and congratulating myself on how smart I was to bring a disk to save my stuff on. Then I go back to the office and one of the guys is at my desk, backing-up all the files on the computer. Fuck. My document was right on the desktop (closed). He asked if it was mine and I said no, that I'd stumbled across it. He opened it and it's me bitching about how all the guys in the office were eating pretzels and not offering me any, and me ranting about my ex and how cold and unpleasant he was the other night when he returned my call, and how mad I was because he's already seeing someone new, and how I slept with a co-worker at my going away party, and described the personal ad I wrote for this ex (at his prompting), "middle-aged, broken nose, missing tooth, stds, underweight" (it's all the truth and he thought it was funny), and how I came to a realization after watching "Ally McBeal" (I HATE that show, but I make myself watch it) that I'm the one in control and I shouldn't have such hard feelings about this guy because I'm the one who moved across the country. I dumped that old man so he should be the one who feels bad. But the point of this is how freakin' stupid I looked for even taking the time to write (type) all this stuff down, and how humiliating to think that the Chris Penn lookalike at this job might've read it. So, I'm not smart like I thought I was and I'm sticking to scrawling on pieces of paper.

9/28/98
This is harder to keep up than I'd thought it would be. Jesus Christ, I don't know what it is with me and wrong numbers, but people are always turning pervy on me. In Portland I went through this phase where I was getting all sorts of unrelated obscene phone calls (I actually got a kick out of a couple of them. The funniest one was where the guy asked me for my phone number afterward--not the brightest sexual offender ever). Since I moved here I keep getting wrong numbers for a "Sheela Ghandi". I just got such a call a couple of minutes ago and instead of saying "sorry" and hanging up the guy wouldn't get off the phone. I was being firm, but polite, and then he cuts in "are you getting mad at me?" I say, "no", he says, "You're not from here", and I say, "no", then he says, "Your tone is nice" and I knew exactly where this was going and just wasn't in the mood. How do these people manage to always find me. It's not as if I've never had a lonely, boring evening, but coming-on to someone over the phone just never seemed like a good solution. I knew I was going to be in trouble today when I showed up at my temp job and the security desk guy asks incredulously, "You're back? You must be a glutton for punishment". It's so true

9/27/98
I went out fri. and had a so-so time, but at least I got free drinks at a friend's work party. I ended up with a bunch of people who wouldn't let me get a word in edge-wise, which makes me insane. People here are too into themselves (even by my standards). I ended up falling asleep on the subway even though i know that's not a good idea. I ended up falling asleep on the subway sat. night too, but it was 6 am and I just couldn't help myself. At least that night I had fun in a weird way. I met up with a friend and some friend's of hers who were visiting from Portland. It turned out that I used to work with one of the guys. Then I was introduced to a group of young guys and realized that one of them was a high school friend of my sister's that she had some big falling out with over some sort of unwanted sexual advance. She always called him Noah Anus. I guess he lives here now. it was too bad that he wasn't hot. A couple of summers ago I had a fling with a different old pal of hers and I wanted to carry on the trend of getting it on with her childhood friends. But anyway, I had a good time and realized that it was because I wasn't hanging out with New Yorkers. Plus, everyone was buying rounds and food so I didn't end up spending a cent, which made me feel guilty, but I don't have the extra $50 to blow that way. Nothing bad happened. In fact I found THE RESTAURANT. I'm obsessed with bad, good food, particularly monte cristos. Normally they're served with a side of jelly, but this place uses syrup! Sweet jesus. They also had "disco fries", which are fries with melted cheese AND gravy! Now that's living.

9/24/98
Nothing really horrible happened today, but I did figure out the source of a sudden onset of blemishes on my chin. I'd never really had skin problems, but this week my chin has been a mess. I realized that it's because I've been answering phones all week and dirty, greasy receivers have been rubbing up against my face. I'm not one of those antibacterial freaks, but it kind of grossed me out. Who knows where these phones have been. good: I got a free piece of pizza so I was able to spend the $1.60 that I'd allotted myself for lunch on an iced coffee. This mechanic with a thick N.Y accent said (or at least I think he said), "Iced coffee. It's better than you." What does that mean?! I went back to that store with the cheap pita and found all sorts of good stuff like tons of bulk food (do I sound like a hippy or what?) and a bunch of different curry pastes and homemade chutneys and pickles. It rocks. I don't know the name, but it's somwhere around 28th and Lexington.

9/23/98
I started a temp job at this building maintenance co. Today I wore underwear that fit, but I was having issues with my skirt. For some reason, skirts that are meant to hit just above the knee always fit me like mini-skirts. I think I have an abnormally high waist. Seriously. Like my waist-band practically touches the bottom of my bra. Maybe there's plastic surgery to correct this problem. Who knows. But I put on this Dockers for women skirt (yes, they have Dockers for women, and I never thought I'd be wearing a pair, but here I am temping away) and it looked short, but I figured with tights it would be o.k. So, all morning I'm looking at myself in windows to make sure it's not rising up in the back and everyone can see my ass (and I don't even have a butt. Just the other day Roseanne was talking on her new show about just having "a back with a crack in it" and I thought, hey, me too. She mentioned that same phrase two days in a row so maybe she's as obsessed with her pancake ass as I am). I make it all the way to lunch without any mishaps. Then I get half a block from the building and this woman briskly walks past my left and says under her breath, "pull down your skirt". I don't think she meant this as a command so I was mortified and all my worst fears were confirmed. The thing is that I looked behind me and it wasn't any different than when I left the house. I felt weirded out the rest of the day and was afraid to get on the subway because I'd have to raise my arm to hold one of those straps and it would inch my skirt up that much higher. Another not good day. Dockers suck. "Nice pants", my ass.

Good things: It was the first day of fall. I got to use walkie-talkies. One of the mechanics bought me a soda (do you see a trend starting with free beverages cheering me up?). I found good, cheap pita bread at a nearby store (10 for the same price I'd been paying for 6).

9/22/98
It was my second day temping at this construction company on Wall St. It wasn't that unbearable, but I'm just not cut out for a 9-5 schedule and couldn't seem to wake up properly. The night before I'd put on a pair of old, stretched-out underwear on and just figured that I'd change them in the morning. Well, I was too tired to change them and didn't think that my droopy drawers would cause too much of a problem. I wasn't even half way to the subway before they started creeping down my legs. Luckily, I had on a long skirt, but no tights. One of the benefits of living so far out is that I always get a seat. Of course this morning there was standing room only. It was only 8 a.m. and I already knew I was going to be in trouble. I check in at the lobby desk and the old guy behind it asks, "do you have on your running shoes?". I figured he knew something I didn't. He knew that even though we have couriers constantly picking up and delivering packages, I have to go down from the 22nd fl. to meet them. Great. I can barely walk and keep my underwear up at the same time. I get to the office and there's some big meeting so I have to order coffee and then go downstairs to meet the delivery person. I'm handed this huge box of beverages and am forced to use both hands. Now I can't pull up my underwear in the elevator as I'd planned. By this time it's to my knees in a bunch and I just know that all these Wall St. types can see weird bulges in my skirt. Some guy starts making small-talk with me about how those coffees sure look good and I'm just thinking fuck-off so I can adjust my skivvies in peace. By the time I get upstairs it's unbearable and I scurry behind my desk. The only solution I can come up with is to just take the damn things off. So I discretely try to get them off with no one noticing. It works and I shove them in my purse. One problem is solved, but I had to go all day without underwear, whch made me self-conscious in all sorts of other ways. It was not the best day.

O.k. something good (you must temper everything negative with something positive, that's the rule here): Um, well, I got a free coffee because not everyone showed up for the meeting. And I managed to not use the word "panties" once throughout this thing (I hate that word).

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