2003-09-24

I'm contemplating applying for a job at the supermarket. I know that many fine, young girls with Theater Degrees work at supermarkets. I don't see why I feel so ashamed.

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Hey! I just realized something! It's my fiftieth entry! Yay!

Happy Anniversary to you!

Happy Aniiversary to yooooooouuuuu!

Happy Anniversary, Planet of the April!

Happy Anniversary to yoooooooouuuuuuuuuu!

Yaaaaaaay!

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It's a shame I didn't have something more earth-shattering to say. I mean, being it's the fiftieth and all, you'd think I'd have changed in some drastic way. Like I wasn't whining so much anymore or I was not smoking anymore or I was having an affair with a former New Kid (Donnie Wahlberg, I'm looking at you).

I guess, my little diary, I could finally tell you why I'd named the first version of you Godzillas in the Mist.

Okay, it was sophomore year of college and my roomate, Evil T, and I were sitting around reading through the vast selection of children's books she owned (because she thought it was scandalous that I'd never read The Borrowers or Coco's Kitten). Anyway, I put down the saga of Coco the sign-languaging Gorilla and her poor, dead kitty, Shadow, and I just sat there and took it all in for a while. I turned to Evil T and asked, "Do you think a kitten turns out different when it's raised by a godzilla?"

Evil T started cackling (no small thing for her. Evil T is the most silent person I know. She's like the Brain to my Pinky. Usually her laugh is a small smile and a slight shaking). I was all, "What?" Then I realized what I had said and joined her.

Man, we must have laughed till our lungs burst. It was just such a crazy thought. Then we started speculating about that upcoming feature film, Godzillas in the Mist, where Sigourney Weaver attempts to save a group of wild godzillas. We decided that we would make this film and that Joe Estevez would be somehow involved. Isn't that a great story?

Oh, shut up. It's not that bad. Anyway, my title is better than "angel puppy dust" or "teddy bear tears." I could have (and could still) name you that. Do not push me, or I just might.

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I had a dream about Eric, the Mole Boy (random guy I made out with while working at Denny's... not on duty, though. He had a very large and distracting mole) last night. I hope it doesn't mean he was the one that got away. I really really really hope I don't find myself missing Mole Boy a decade down the line.