I woke up this morning having dreamed that I took a ride with an icognito Amy Carter in a humongous American luxury car, like a Lincoln Continental or something, with big bench seats and yellow fuzzy seat covers. She offered me some loose licorice from her purse, but I told her no thanks because I could see little microscopic refugee camps on the surface of the licorice.

I don't usually remember those dreams, so I'm happy about that. Amy Carter used to be pretty easy to find here in Atlanta, and I used to think "How cool would it be to get to know her. Think of the people she's met and the places she's been." And then I remember that that's what stalkers think, too.

My status as a fan who would like to meet a celebrity in real life has pretty much been kicked in the nuts since I met a lesbian icon who turned out to be not just a bitch, but a mean bitch. She was really mean to Deb, and you can imagine how well that went over with me. I don't want to meet any other celebrities now. In fact, I avoid them. Just let me see your screen persona, thanks. Not the one that wants to grind your heel into my face and then laugh at me. I'll pass.

My workplace has installed something that can track employee's Internet usage, so my updates might get more brief. And I won't be able to read many diaries. That sucks. I need to check over the office policy and see if I'm allowed to surf for fun on my lunch break.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11