when a diarist meets a diarist comin’ through the rye

I met my first online diarist last night. He writes Book of Days. I went up to him:

[scripty]
PAMIE
Hey! Do you write Book of Days?

HIM
Yeah. Yeah, I do.

PAMIE
I’m Pamie. I write Squishy!

HIM
Oh.

PAMIE
Wow.

HIM
Wow, another online diarist. Neat.

PAMIE
I thought it was you.

HIM
I’ve never read your stuff, I’ll have to check it out.

PAMIE
Oh, well, you know, whatever. Heh.
[/scripty]

So, it wasn’t all tears and flowers since we hadn’t been reading each other for months and just dying to meet one another or anything… but what are the odds that you are singing at a Karaoke club and the person at the end of the table is another online diarist? Well, what are the chances in Austin, anyway, I’m sure you guys run into that in San Francisco all the time.

I’m about to go to the Monks’ Night Out Christmas party. You have to bring a White Elephant gift under ten dollars. I found this kit that lets you make keychains and picture frames with glitter and stickers and string. It’s this whole set and it rules. Under ten dollars, baby. I asked Eric what he thought. “That’s cool, sweetie,” he said. “That’s what I love about you. You have a real good sense of the kid in you.”

Yeah, he likes it now, but when I’m blowing bubbles in my milk at an Italian restaurant he may rethink his adoration.

I cleaned the apartment yesterday. It took five hours. Mostly because I really cleaned, not that half-assed picking up stuff. I alphabetized our CD collection. We have 316 CD’s. I found CDs in there I didn’t even know I had… more importantly I found that some of my CDs are missing. That sucks. Now I have to go out and get another Weezer CD.

In one week my life will be so much more organized. I will know if we are going to Aspen. I will know if I am getting a promotion at my job that I’m trying for. I will be on vacation. I will have started my Christmas shopping. I will know who I’m writing my next play for (the Monks or another group of my friends… it all depends on Aspen). I will know what my spring will be like. I will know how many people will be in the next Monks show I’m directing…

I just have to make it through a few more days. But the waiting is killing me, I’ve got to tell you. It’s making me rather depressed about it all. I have no control. I’ve worked real hard on all of these things for so long, and now I have to just sit back and wait and see what happens.

Well, time to go wrap my gift and don me now my gay apparel.