Selected Diary Entries - February 2010

Saturday, February 13

Gene called me a "Spanish fly" the other day, and I had to wonder what exactly that meant. I looked up the term on Wikipedia, and it turns out it's an emerald-green beetle whose urine excretes cantharides, which, in humans, causes inflammation of the genitals and so was used as an aphrodisiac. Today, it's used to incite farm animals to mate.

Before looking this up, I wondered if maybe he was calling me an insect or something. And now, I have to wonder if he thinks I could make cows or horses horny.

Sunday, February 14

Today is Valentine's Day, which, when abbreviated, is simply "VD," a fact which sort of amuses me to no end.

Matthew called today "singles awareness day."

So, in response to my own crushing aloneness, I've decided to start a diet today. I'm hoping to slim down a little to make myself more attractive (or less repulsive; I'm not sure). I have an image of myself as a sort of Casanova, although in reality I suppose I'd never have the confidence to pull off anything like that.

So, I'm back to eating things like cheese and crackers and oatmeal and cereal.

I tried something new today, though. I was hoping to make something similar to the fruit and yogurt parfaits sold at Target, although my version was just plain organic yogurt and granola. When I opened the tub of yogurt, the smell nearly got me. It was like something rancid, spoiled, but I spooned a generous portion into a bowl. In my room I poured a couple handfuls of granola into the bowl and mixed it together before trying a bite.

It tasted horrible. It was strong and hard to swallow if I let myself breathe while it was in my mouth. I mixed in some honey and tried to overpower the taste with more granola, but it only slightly tempered it. Ultimately, I choked down most of it, but a good chunk — about the size of a small fist — ended up going in the trash. I had to hold my breath while scraping it in.

I switched to cheese and crackers after that.

Saturday, February 27

Today, before going to Abbie's birthday dinner, I went and got my hair cut. Great Clips closes at six on Saturdays, and I rolled in around five-thirty. I couldn't help but feel like one of those assholes. Someone came in after me, but still...

I could tell the girl behind the counter was ready to call it a day. She was in her late twenties, with brown-blonde hair and a dark tan. A silver piercing stuck out beneath her bottom lip. After keying in my information, she immediately took me to an open station and sat me down. There was only one other girl there, a middle-aged woman who was working on someone else's hair.

When my girl started in on my hair, I wasn't sure if it was just her personal style or if she had something against my coming in so late. She ran the clippers over my head like she were scraping ice off a windshield, and then when it came time to wet my hair for the scissors, she sprayed me like I was an errant cat, with spritzes of water going right in my eyes and dripping down my neck.

I didn't say anything because I don't like getting into arguments with people holding pairs of scissors next to my eyes, and so I just sat there, anticipating as best I could the next round of sprays so that I could close my eyes.