Here I am, once again at the library. The woman next to me has been having a nonstop conversation with herself, I am tired, hungry, headachy, menstrual, and in short about as fun as a hernia. Plus I am scared that, due to intense stress, I have been losing my hair. I would like someone to swoop down from the heavens and present me with a giant bacon cheeseburger, followed by the best massage in the world. Alas, I am here, next to someone who looks like she carries mace in her purse to spray rabid squirrels with. Such is life, my funny furry friends!

How furry you are, I have no idea, but then again my readers are gone. Gone, gone, gone, much like the famous Dodo bird. Dodo, we never knew ye. So in some strange way I am having a conversation with myself. That's ok, because I think the world will somehow supply me with all of my needs, which at present consist of food and maxi pads. Hey, I never said reading my blog would be pleasant, but at least I'm honest! Whoohoo!

Recently I saw the Borat movie. If you want to see something so funny that you feel your heart will explode with pure mirth, then I recommend it highly. It's a great little film. Controversial and offensive, blah. The point is in the pointing out of America's many problems, not the least of which is racism and sexism. I thought it was hilarious, but then again I am halfway cracked. But I think many people are finding it utterly hilarious.

So, that's what's going on. I still pine for the blue-eyed doctor and in fact walk around convinced that at any moment I am going to run into him. Is it that easy to delude yourself? Has anyone else ever felt this way? i.e. that your intuition tells you that yes, you will run into someone soon? Someone you long to see? It's been known to happen. Then again, so have plagues full of giant locusts.

I must run, because the woman next to me is about to go kaboom. May you have a happy, happy, healthy day, my 1.3 friends (I guess that would be..sniff..me).

Here I am at the exciting library. Rain is falling outside, I am very glum, sad, and depressed, and it doesn't help that the dog is dead. Yes, cry me a river. Nor does it help that the rain is falling. In the meantime I was actually driven to look at "Leprauchan in Da Hood" (at least, on the Internet) as my lovely British friend said it was one of the funniest things ever made. Apparently it keeps Warwick Davis employed. And for an actor, that's a mighty fine thing.

So life is nauseating, my kitties, and I have all kinds of anxious, torturous fears that germinate in the night. You know, that long, dark, cold night from hell when all you can think about is that you might end up on the street, alone, sleeping over sewers and drinking rubbing alcohol. And that actually happens to people, and they definitely deserve our compassion, not censure. For anyone out there who has had any triflings, serious or brief, with homelessness (including your writer, here), you understand more what I mean than anyone. Maybe one day America will have more compassion for the least of its citizens. Until then, I watch a lot of movies. 'Cause I don't want to sound like a self-righteous witch.

Anywho, I may have a life this evening with a few friends of mine, although they aren't exactly timely with phone calls, so I may end up staring into space while watching Cable TV. That is, alternately watching TV and staring into space. I do think that it's time for me to move out of my parents' house and out of this town from hell, and am working on that program, especially since I had another fight with my mother. It was long overdue and removed me from the Land of Denial. Now I'm in the Land of Glum, but that's OK. At least I have a seat to sit on and some food in my tummy.

Some quaint woman's child is crying. Children are so much braver than adults, crying at the drop of a hat and letting everyone know what is bothering them. Instead of turning to drink, drugs, or the Republican party. At the same time I have to admit that I cannot stand the sound of children crying. It reminds me too much of my inner pain, in all truth. So mayhap I should not have any, although sometimes I do dream along those lines.

We had the midterm elections yesterday, and due to my general lameness I did not vote. In this state it was the same ol' same ol', and since politics seems to occupy much thought in this New England town, it's easy to become interested. Or, in my case, apathetic, something I realize has come upon me progressively since my college years. Oh, to be a college student! If only I knew how it would all turn out! I'd have stayed there forever. But miracles can happen, as they say, and one of them is the chocolate mousse cake sitting in my parents' refrigerator. That is, if the father type personage hasn't eaten it yet. He likes sweets, he does!

Not much else to say. I feel numb, yet am convinced that one day, Alec Baldwin will discover me sitting on a park bench and be so moved by my charm that he'll propose on the spot. How I like those angry Irish boys. We all have a dream, don't we?

I wish you peace and gentle joys, and all good things.

The futility of finding jobs, ah. I am on a never-ending search for a job, in-between suffering what could only be compared to a kind of purgatorial purging. Of ego, or, more accurately put, sanity. As in, I ain't got none left, my friends! Although I'm not sure I have anymore online, as I suspect the 1.3 people reading this have gotten bored and looked elsewhere. If you have, I won't hold it against you, because I don't have any nice color photos of myself, or of tulips, foreign countries, cheerful golden retrievers, or cool, abstract artwork designed to make you think about things like existential angst.

So! I interviewed recently with Starbucks. Starbucks is an excellent place to go if you're feeling really low, because the corporate baristas therein are all evidently on prozac times three. You would think that the queen had come to visit, or that someone there had just won the lottery, because it doesn't matter what I order, they are SO FRICKING HAPPY!!!! Have a nice day, they tell me, in joyous, pealing tones with big happy smiles plastered to their faces. The employee handbook must have an entire page devoted to things like, "Body Language: How to Sell Coffee With Your Biggest, Fakest Smile Without The Aid of Excessive Stimlants". Complete with perky pictures of well-groomed baristas pouring cappucinos until they're coming out of their asses. Or, less crudely put, until the sight, smell, or sound of coffee being poured is enough to make them puke.

And oh, that coulda been me. I guess I failed the Starbucks perkiness test, or else someone else was hired with loads more experience. I am faintly worried I have a shitty reference, incorrect dates on my resume, maybe I didn't use the right kind of perfume? God only knows. It was probably a question (let's hope, for my sake) of experience. At the very least, I will say they treated me very fairly, and were basically quite kind. Too bad I didn't get the job, but one must keep on keeping on, children. And there's always another place willing to abuse you for low wages! The good thing about Skcubrats is that if you work twenty hours, you are eligible for benefits. The kind that involve actual doctors and medical plans. I once had a temp agency medical plan that required me to cut out the little card they mailed me with scissors. It looked like the Sesame Street Medical Plan. It was fucking frightening.

So, there you have it. I am now esconsed in our local library on the happy laptop, which is much kinder to my fingers. I have put in two more applications today, to Borders and a local coffee shop where the baristas look like they lift cars in their spare time. Don't know why, just kinda big gals. I am tall, yet not all that big, although I am not going to be giving Cindy Crawford any competition anytime soon. Doesn't matter, though, because the one kind thing you learn in your thirties is to hell with being a popsickle stick. I like to eat, and eat I will. And to hell with anorexia!!

The funniest thing that's been popping through my antidepressant-addled head all day: a great bit by Mitch Hedburg, funniest comedian in the world. Sadly, dead at the age of 37. Anyway, he does this great riff where he's interviewing with this woman in an office for some kind of job. She asks him, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" He looks at her and says, "Celebrating the five-year anniversary of you asking me this question." You have to hear Hedburg say it, because it's priceless, in his floating, stoneresque voice. I did love that man so.

No more from this tiny teeny little laptop! I bid you adieu, much Starbucks coffee, and a husky barista, all coming to a theater near you.

Boo.

I have no idea what that blogging title means, but my dog just died, so I guess I'm not here to make sense, just to talk about what a great dog she was. And is, because I have no doubt, although I doubt everything like most people worth their salt, that she is somewhere in Doggie Heaven. A great place full of milk bones, cats, mailmen (to sink your doggie teeth into, naturally), and lots of hamburger bushes. Ah, hell, it's heaven, so let's make it steak! Steak bushes, full of tasty cuts of filet mignon.

My dog was a beautiful golden retriever who was thirteen years old when she popped her cork. Kicked the bucket, died, passed away, bit the big one. However you want to put it. I absolutely adored her and she was my only consolation in a house full of really fucked-up people. She was sweet and loving and kind and I loved petting her. She was a character. A strong-willed character who liked to bark ferociously at other dogs, who loved to beg for ice and oranges, and who had a lot of love in her heart. She was full of joy and she was always smiling. One time I brought her sledding and she walked around the parking lot eating ice. Then she spied me at the top of the hill and got very still, then came charging up the hill. I guess she wanted to protect me from myself. I went down the hill (whoosh!) and she followed. She did this every time I went sledding. We had a great time. She also loved to go for rides in the car and I loved the way her face looked when the wind hit it. She looked so peaceful and happy. She was a great, great dog and I will forever miss her. People laugh at pet lovers I guess, but the truth is, the loss of a pet is devastating. Animals have much to teach people, and I think they have far more love and faith than most humans. My dog taught me a lot.

I miss you, sweetheart. Love, your mistress.