In last night’s episode of Charlie’s Angels, Shelley poses as a nurse in a plastic surgeon’s clinic where this girl who was in a bad accident has surgery to remove the scars. I used to always think it’d be so horrible to have my face scarred up, but now I’m like – why not? I mean, what difference would it make? My fat, spongy face is so hideous anyway, that I don’t see how it would matter much.

I know my looks have gone way downhill since I met Tom. Just the fact that it’s been years since he’s called me sexy or complimented me on my looks without me bringing it up first tells me so. I can’t blame him, though. I can’t bring myself to lose weight either. I know I could, it’s just that I don’t want to go hungry for the rest of my life. It seems that unless we’re butches, we women detract men with age and attract more women, though I still don’t feel the desire to seek out a womanly side dish. I suppose some people would and maybe someday I will, but for now, I’d rather not. I don’t want any more games or trouble.

I thought it would be neat to buy some of the Charlie’s Angels posters I had in the 70s, but I couldn’t find what I wanted when I browsed the net. They had nice shots, but they were mostly 8x10. That’s not a poster, as the idiots referred to them. Those are pictures. I’d probably have better luck getting what I wanted at eBay, but that could get pretty expensive, so I probably won’t bother.

I just wish this stock would hurry up and sell. I want to get on with our lives/plans. I feel like there’s a lot of pausing and rewinding in life, rather than playing and fast-forwarding. I wait. I hope. But I rarely seem to do. Ambition and desire are one thing, but fate is another.

So often I feel like my adulthood is nothing more than an extension of my childhood. Only instead of Doe and Art being the ones to tell me what I can and cannot do, it’s either the state, God, or fate. We’re all slaves of God, fate and the law, be it unfair or not, but it just seems like I’m one of those extremes.

If Scot doesn’t show up today, then we beat the 6-week, 3-day record like I hoped we would, but tomorrow it’s back to having to see him once a week for a few weeks. Especially if I’m right about him showing up next week, cuz I still doubt he’d skip September. If I am right about that, he’ll probably skip October. I would hope he would, anyway.

Saturday’s going to be both fun and boring. I’m going to tag along with Tom when he goes to replace the sink in our other house. The one we fix but don’t live in. At least Mary pays him well and doesn’t use him and give him that bullshit, “I’ll catch you later,” like Ma was doing before she moved in with Mary and Dave.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen them so it’ll be nice to do so, but 4 hours is a long time to sit and watch TV with them and munch on pizza. It’ll be a long day. It’ll be an hour to get there, an hour of buying parts, an hour of chatting and eating, a couple of hours to do the work, then another hour to get home.

At least I have something I don’t usually have regarding the matter – a choice. It’s my choice, but as bored as I know I’ll get at times, I’ve chosen to go.

I just don’t get these prairie dogs lately. Today they’re up by the house, but they’re ignoring most of the food I’ve put out for them.