you're a very silly human, darling.

So I had no idea that anyone read this... except for you, my dear asshole boyfriend, and Carolyn sometimes, and Lisa when she is bored. So to anyone tuning in to this crazed rambling webpage, hello! You must also be insane! Greetings!

The JCH was good -- It was the last day of the "semester," with the new one starting up in like two weeks. We had some of the kids in the pool, so I didn't have to make awkward flirtacious smalltalk with the 15 year old because he had pool duty and I did not. Thank goodness. I get very creeped out with him now. He is far too damned knowledgeable... says the girl who was writing her own romance novels (aka softcore written porn) at age 15. But I was a virgin and stayed that way for another 3 and a half years, so it doesn't count. Anyway. I got to talk to one of the older girls, who is, ta-dah, not in high school, but goes to Fordham, and is probably in my grade. One of the girls took a picture of me with a child and looked at the picture and said, "Damn you are so white in all of these." I said, "Well, given that I am the whitest girl in America..." And she said, "I think it must be your hair." And so then I basically came out as a shiksa to all of the Jews when I said, "Well, I am Irish, you know... kind of comes with the territory." I swear some of them do believe that I am Jewish and I feel really awkward when I can only speak English and can't read Hebrew letters... One time, I put together a whole carpet with Hebrew letters on it... UPSIDE DOWN. It's absurdity. My boss gave me a nice letter saying thanks for being a volunteer, have a movie theater gift card. It's nice. I think I'll be able to come back next fall and eventually use her as a reference, which is great.

The other girls moved in tonight... but they didn't start even trying to move in until like, 5 pm, which I find odd, because they can't go to bed until they get all the shit off their beds. It's a disaster area in my house. There is one of those really annoying grey carts they give you to move your shit in and out still in my living room. It forms a barricade with the couch and the table (and boxes) so I just crept around it, closed myself in with my wine, and made a little When Harry Met Sally clubhouse. If I allow myself to sit through the whole thing, I can say with 100% certainty that I will end up happy. This is why when I am watching while wallowing, I cut it off at Sally's sad horrible line "I can't do this anymore. I am not your consolation prize." Then I tend to go cry for about fifteen minutes. But tonight was a decent night, albeit a frighteningly embarrassing one -- what else is new? -- and so I got to finish and can now again attack my paper. 

Strangely that was a lot better than a night with the animal handler would have been... not that we don't have fun, because we do and it's nice, but it's very simple and not necessarily in a good way. I wouldn't consider even dating him, given that information, but for the fact that I heard someone say that the smart thing to do, in relationships, is to be with someone who likes you way more than you like him. Given that I am always then the stupid one in the relationship who really likes him a lot, while he has slightly more feelings for me than he does for, say, a piece of lint, I feel that this could be an interesting experiment. But it wouldn't be too annoying to date such a devoted man, given that he lives in New Jersey and it takes a long time to make the commute. So if I am going to dabble in dating someone I am not superattracted to, the animal handler is the way to go. Also, I miss people thinking I am smart. No one has any reason to, lately. I mean, let's be realistic: though I have a good heart, I'm neurotic, obsessive, ridiculous, and I seem to believe that wine is a breakfast food.