something sneaky...

So the other day, I was nosing around online, taking my sweet time before launching myself on the 2-hour drive home, and an ad popped up for Yahoo!Personals. I'm not single, and thus not looking, but I was curious to see what the Singles in this area are like. Do they flaunt the fact that they have two snowmobiles and a 4-wheeler (and two kids and four ex-step-kids)? I typed in the zip code, waited two seconds for the results, read the first one...he was in his 40s, and wasn't very interesting. I hit 'back' to go to the main page of results, and scrolled down a bit...clicked on the third entry. I read the blurb about him, and enlarged the picture...HIM! I KNOW WHO HE IS. I see him at least twice a day. This is freaky, I feel like an FBI agent or something, knowing stuff about this guy, when he has no idea (and just in case any of you girls are looking: he wants kids, he likes the outdoors and photography, speaks 4 languages, and did I mention he wants kids?).

Yesterday, I was talking with a classmate after our psych class, talking about homosexuality, and how in all my research, I did not come across anyone who could say that they have targeted a "gay gene;" that "It isn't genetic."
"Oh, oh yeah! I didn't think it was genetic. It's just biological."
"Ummm."
"So I have a question for you -- if it's too personal, just tell me to shut up."
"Okay..."
"Are you bisexual?"
"(ha! ha ha ha!) No; no, I'm not."
"Well, have you considered it?"
"Uh, no."
"Oh. Okay."

Last night I dreamed that my brother and I were taking subs to a friend's place, only, he isn't my friend; I just see him around campus every day; anyway, we got to his apartment at night, and buzzed his apartment through the intercom, but he told us to wait a minute, we couldn't come up yet. Eventually we were allowed in, and who was there with him? Marilyn Monroe, of course, and they'd been doing something sneaky.

Hallelujahonlyfivemoreweeks!! Five, and then I'll be back in the home area and working a summer job and having a steady source of income!

Off to take a shower...

I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I really should have taken my makeup off last night. One side of my hair was plastered to my head, the other sticking out in a series of peaks and horns. It is as if the hairs on my head have a life of their own, behaving perfectly sensibly all day, then waiting till I drop off to sleep and starting to run and jump about childishly, saying, "Now what shall we do?"

Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding, pg 57