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2004-01-28, 8:16 a.m.:

I guess I won�t eat worms.

Ha. I am so dumb. Since I began writing again, I have been waiting for people to start leaving me notes to tell me how happy they are that I am back. I�ve been waiting and waiting for that email to show up telling me that �you�ve got a new note at Diaryland!�, but the email never came.

Sadder and sadder, I sink into the depths of despair; convincing myself that I really am boring, that my writing is pedestrian and pedantic (two of my favorite �ped� words), and that I suck in general.

Then, out of morbid curiosity, I check my notes. And, hurrah! There are three new ones, reaffirming my ego. My junk mail filter was being a bit too thorough.

Of course, I still think that this diary is pedestrian and pedantic, but hell, I�ll keep writing as long as you keep reading.

Baby, it�s cold inside�

I�ve taken up the adorable habit of walking around the house fully clothed, as if ready to take a hike in the great, freezing outdoors. Socks and shoes, long scarf, winter coat, oftentimes a toboggan�all fair game. Because y�all, it be cold out there.

NOW, before you unfortunate souls who crazily live to the North of me decide to give a lecture on the ways of cold, and how I do not know them, remember this:

I AM FROM THE SOUTH. We have, like 7 snowplows here (and I�m being generous). The schools sometimes close if it is really cold and rainy. Grocery stores sell out of bread and milk* at the mere mention of snow. People sled on two and a half inches of slush.

We are not equipped for this kind of foul weather. We are, however, more than ready for the hot, hot, heat of summer. People air condition their garages here, kids. That�s right. There are people out there who I am betting never breathe a bit of fresh air between the months of June and September. We can handle it! You won�t find us crying like the Brits did last summer when the heat broke 100. Just crank up the AC and mix up another batch of iced tea lemonade!

Oh, but the cold. I hate it. I hate the way my skin feels during this time of year. I hate the way that my hair looks good (on account of no humidity), but I have to smosh it under a hat. I hate the ice patch that forms on our porch. I always slip.

I hate the way people only talk about the weather, as if I need reminding. I hate having to think about, even for a second, pipes freezing and winterizing things. Hate!

I really think that winter should last for the month of December only, because you really need the cold and snow and all that for Christmas. Here is the way I would break down the year, weather-wise, if I were empress of the universe:

Spring: January, February, March, April, May

Summer: June, July, August

Fall: September, October, November

Winter: December

Really, it would be better this way. And, I�ve checked, there is officially no place on earth that has a real winter (where you can wear coats and sweaters and scarves) for only one month. Unfair.

*Why bread and milk? Huh? So if you are stranded for days you can have soggy milk sandwiches? Do people live on peanut butter sandwiches and milk out there? I guess so.

Stats. A class I almost failed in college.

For a while there, if you�ve been paying attention, I stopped updating. I was busy, blah, blah, blah, whatever. I also totally ignored my stats, and I forgot how very entertaining they can be!

In the past week this little page has been discovered by some psychos searching for:

�pulley love handles�

�pay with your ass�

Fun stuff, eh?

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