I have to pee, but my interest level in getting off the couch is less than nil, so I’m holding it.  Meanwhile, my belly is swelling (I have to go pretty bad), and if the dog jumps on me, I will pop, thereby electrocuting myself on the computer and dying one of those really embarrassing deaths that show up on that Darwin thing.  It will be worse than being on “Dateline: Survivor Story”.  I should add that to my life goal list: I do not want to die in such a way as to end up on that damn Darwin list.  There.

My sister, brother-in-law, and I are going to a Halloween party during our Fakesgiving weekend (meaning Thanksgiving in October due to a grandparental cruise during real Thanksgiving).  We’re going to dress as geishas.  All three of us.  Jason has a history of being willing to cross-dress for Halloween.  He was a cheerleader one year.  My sister was a boy cheerleader that year.  I wish I had a picture so I could put it up.  Anyway, Kim got the costumes at Target.  We’re going to wear white knee-highs and black flip flops for our footwear.  Have I mentioned that I hate flip flops?  That damn thing between my toes drives me up a wall.  Hopefully the socks will cure that problem.  Kim bought white makeup too.  I have the most awesome red lipstick ever, so we’ll use that.  We’ll also wear black eyeliner and geisha wigs.  The only problem is that they only had mediums and larges, and I’m fairly wee, so my costume is probably going to be too big.  Oh well.

Craving warning:  I want some fucking chocolate.  There is no chocolate in this house.  How is that possible?  That can’t be normal.  Well, on second thought, there’s some white chocolate in the fridge, but it’s well past it’s prime.  I just keep forgetting to chuck it in the bin.

My worries over J as a coach have been alleviated.  He’s got a way of describing things that I relate to really well, and I feel like I’ve improved in D’s absence.  Usually I regress, so this is very good news.  Plus he’s making me work on those hideous Moves in the Field, so that’ll make me a better skater overall.  It’s torture, but it’s good stuff.  Today was a little worthless.  Gillian was on the ice at the same time as me, and she loves nothing more than to talk.  That’s fine for a minute here and there, but she wants to yak the whole time, and it’s IMPOSSIBLE to get away from her.  I think I wasted half an hour talking to her, but at least we were talking about skating stuff.  Wasted is kind of harsh.  I should say I let half an hour of practice time fly by while talking.  That sounds a little less rude.  My second session was much more productive.  I’ll just have to make up for it by busting my ass tomorrow, which I never do on Fridays. 

When I was all done for the day, Cute Guy from work came up and talked to me while I was taking off my skates and stuff.  He was playing with my skates and my Bunga pads (please please don’t let them be all stretched out now!).  He liked the art on the bottom of my skates, but how could you not like Betty Boop and Jessica Rabbit?  Anyway, I’ve noticed that I get all nervous when talking to guys now.  I feel like a ninth grader.  I don’t know, maybe ninth graders are less nervous than me.  I sat there, chit-chatting, but worrying the whole time that my skates were stinky.  It was pretty pitiful!  I even get a little nervous talking to guys on my softball team, all of whom are taken except for D.  I’m not nervous around him, but I see him all the time so that doesn’t count.  I think I’m painfully aware of my singleton status.

We’ve got a double header in softball tonight.  I’m trying to decide if I should bother jumping in the shower for a quick “rinse the skate sweat off” or if it doesn’t matter since I’m going to get all gross again.  I keep sniffing my pits, and they’re alright.  They do smell like working deodorant.  I don’t want them to end up smelling like failed deodorant.  Ick!  Okay, yeah, I’m gonna take a shower. 

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