Let me let me let me--
let me justify my day.

Today's Friday the 13th had six motivations. (1) I rolled-over in my job last night, which means that I went from being a temporary employee to a bonafide permanent (somewhat) employee, with job security and health benefits and everythin'. Cause for celebration! (2) I forgot--

god, I'm such a list fiend. This reminds me of that book where this family has to get a new house, and apparently they're fuck-all rich because they're making a list of demands for this new house, and the little girl wants whatever house it is to have a tower. and they _get it_. but, I remember, the girl comments about her father that he always wants to make lists, wants to sort things out with bullets and numbers. "bullets" as in, like this! and then this!. Not, like. bang.

anyway.

(2) I forgot about nsync being on Regis Live this morning, so I didn't get up early to watch it. Realized this at 11:45, and thought, god fuckin' damn. Felt stupid and disorganized and cheated. then felt obsessive and stupid. Stupid, all the way around. me and stupid are good friends. I'm with Stupid.

(3) White is far away, in Neal Cassady's hometown. I haven't heard from her yet. I feel the need to do things, in her absence. "but I don't like skim milk. who cares!! I shall drink it in White's honor."

(4) I wanted to visit with Chad. Now that I have officially rolled over, and I don't have to help my family buy a new car, I am now. offically. getting an apartment with him. I told him, I'm filled with anxieties. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

(5) I forget the fifth one. and, all the rest of them. To hell with this list.

The point is, I went shopping. I was celebrating my roll-over by spending money on silly things, and comforting myself over my boyband silliness, and White loves to shop. so. I went to the mall, which is where Chad works. He's the Visual Specialist. He's a Boudoir Badass.

I went shopping. let me let me let me.

here's another list. Of things I bought today.

- a postcard for Tan. I have tons of postcards for use at any time, but had none that said "knoxville" on them. Now have several. It's a shot of Adam's Apple in the Old City. It makes me feel warm, and a little ashamed. Like being proud of that

- a street map of Loudon County. I'm going to put this to some sort of epic use, I swear to god. And I'm a traveller, and a writer, right, I should be crowded with maps.

- the current issue of Young&Modern magazine. I bought it along with a pack of cigarettes for my father. The guys in the article are lit with strange green lighting that makes them look like . . fragile human refugees, on the lam, running from their unfeeling (green) cybernetic overlords. Except for Lance, who always always looks half-human. He's the cyborg who seems to be on their side, so they travel with him, but none of them really trusts him.

The theme of the article is "how celebrity has changed the guys, and how it hasn't." They mention flying to Italy to dine with Donatella Versace, which is faintly nauseating-- but Lance tells a story about how a guy once asked him for an autograph while they were both standing there, using their respective urinals, and that's giddy.

JC says, "I'm not Justin Timberlake, so I can go anywhere I want."

They mention a four-year-old girl whose imaginary friend is Lance. At dinner every night, her family has to set a place for him at the table, and tell him goodnight when they go to bed. See, this girl gets it. Lance is her spirit animal. Josh is mine.

- I got a necklace with a dangly picture of Josh on it. It's a charm for luck and spiritual guidance. It was eight dollars. In the strangest way, my life makes so much sense to me right now.

- I got nsync lip balm. Watermelon. JC's flavor. yeah, it was a bit of overkill. Whatever. My lips were really chapped. and I'm a theme whore. Shut up.

- I went into the Disc Exchange, technically, to find an nysnc bumper sticker, but ended up getting two Woody Guthrie CDs instead. I like them. I like him. The Dust Bowl Ballads CD comes with a copy of his original liner notes, and in them he says,

"This bunch of songs ain't about me, and I ain't going to write about me, 'cause every time I start to do that, I find that I run out of material."

damn, do I hear you, Woody.

- spent Chad's lunch break with him and mentioned, over a Chick-Fil-A six-piece chicken nugget kids' meal, that I needed some pants. He rushed me back to the store and suited me up with two new pairs of pants and a brown stretchy spaghetti-strap shirt. and a thick leather belt with a shiny brass buckle. I have indeed fallen into the GAP. And everything I bought was on sale! I did good. I didn't need these things, but, they're okay. I'm not Josh Chasez. I don't wear eight thousand dollars jackets. S'all good.

I am a flaming Southerner. I have guilt coming out of my ears.

- I bought three nsync posters, which were in a big "POSTERS! ON SALE! NSYNC!" bucket. They were, like, seventy-five cents each. so I got three. I like them. :]

- I paid five dollars in advance, to reserve a copy of the new nsync CD, Celebrity, which comes out next week. They gave me a big (like, huge) poster, for my trouble. On one side, there's the Celebrity CD cover-- the lads are walking down a red carpet, there are fans jumping around and cameras flashing. Josh looks a little rough. not in a sexy way. not working the hair. Chris looks tough. Lance, as always, looks half-human.

On the back, there are very neat black-and-white photos of the guys going about their everyday business. Justin is sipping out of a sweet little tea cup while sitting on a hotel bed. Josh is sleeping. Chris is-- looking at cereal.

and those were all my expenditures. I didn't manage to get gasoline, in that whole adventure, but I still have a pocket full of cash. And I'm drawing close to the time when I won't be able to just spend money like that, what with the apartment approaching.

Speaking of which.

nah, y'know what, we'll talk about that some later time. Too much to figure out, with that. Not tonight.

I got home and chatted with my mama about the apartment, and about how it sucks that she should have to pay full tuition when the only reason that we're not getting financial aid is because I fucked around until it was too late to apply. So she said, well, maybe you should just take a class or two. this semester. To which I agreed. but I still have to find a way to meet with an advisor or something.

eh, bitching about the future is stupid.

I read ma to sleep with an old christian fantasy book-- "The Tower of Geburah" by John White-- that I loved when I was little. I was really into the christian fantasy when I was little. So I read her chapter two (having already read her chapter one) and the name of the chapter was The Captive King.

Star Trek: Voyager is on behind me. I hate this show because it _could_ have been good. I want to read about turbo-lift sex. I feel weird looking for Star Trek slash, though. I think it's because all the websites for it are all futuristic and "ooh, spaaace!!". I expect them to fuck up my computer. or my brain.

I signed on and read two e-mails from Dust, and the second one told me that in order to see the show at the West Side Dinner Theatre, which is about twenty minutes from my house and two hours from his, I have to make reservations. I knew this already. Of course I did. I told _him_ this. Whatever. Felt vaguely insulted, then shrugged. We've already established that I'm with Stupid. I can't say things like that and not excpet people to hear them.

Or I can say them and constantly disclaim myself, like Lise does. But it looks so exhausting watching her.

woo. I am wearing some sexy pants.

going, now.

Love.

--Alestar