"The female tarantula stings her mate at the moment of ejaculation. This numbs him, and in this blissful state she slowly devours him, eating him alive. He feels no pain, as her sting works like a morphia d'amour, promoting a finale of euphoria. His flesh will in turn feed that of his offspring. The male is conscious, though euphoric, as his mate consumes him utterly. By some quirk of evolution, or perhaps simply awareness, she always saves the brain till last. Then the lights go out. I've always thought it must be quite a way to go."

Do I look Irish? One of the engineers told me today that he thinks of me as a typical Irish woman. He just found some distant relatives in Ireland, so it's not too random of a thought. I imagine there must be some Irish in me, but I can't imagine that it's too much. But this is also the person who still calls me Rebecca every once in a while. I get Jennifer all the time, but not one else has ever called me Rebecca. He reminds me of Jay Heffron; he's spacey but really intelligent and knows his stuff when he can remember what he's doing.

How old do I have to be before I stop finding most people my own age completely idiotic?

I think I'll join Ellie as a naked old person. Lately my clothes have felt more and more restrictive and I just want to walk around without any on. Can't help that it's freakin hot around here.

I had this totally crazy urge about an hour ago to go blond. Bright yellow blond. It's a good thing I wasn't passing a salon, or I would be stupider by now. And the urge hasn't completely gone away.

It's a second birthday of a different sort. Truly a birthing in the cycle of suffering.

See? Water. Fish.

"My morning appointments and Stephanie dr appt make Friday tough the schedule!"

Allison! Come teach my boss English.

It's so hot!!! How can it be 50 over the weekend and 85 today? My tricking Spring didn't work, we skipped it completely, according to my brother. He's the new Punxsutawney Phil of the summer. When he comes out of the house and just about dies from heat exhaustion, you know summer has come.

On the downside, I really hope one of us was adopted, because as cute as Phil is, I don't want to be a groundhog as I would be if my brother was.

I think that my problem is that I don't want to make the wrong decision and be button-holed into something that turns out to be wrong for me. And so I don't make any decision. Or maybe it's that I don't think I'll be good enough at anything, which is dumb because I imagine anyone reading this knows that I have a pretty healthy opionion of my intelligence.

I'm up to three different future plans. And some side trips that I wouldn't mind taking.

I am having a bad week. I've had so much stuff to do I've been skipping lunch and staying late. But then I'm all stressed about everything I have to do tomorrow and I can't relax, so I just sit and zone out in front of the tv. And we're short-staffed at work with people on vacation and sick and on assignment elsewhere. Responsibilities are being passed around and balls are being dropped. Hotels are cancelling reservations and NO ONE WITH ANY AUTHORITY WILL GIVE ME ANY ANSWERS.

May will be good.

Some day this week is Administrative Professionals Day (I don't know which day). Is that the saddest thing. Veterans, mothers, and administrative professionals: these are the people who deserve days dedicated to them.

Some people are taking a couple of us "administrative professionals" out to lunch later this week. Hey, at least that should be interesting.

My blond moment.

I pulled up to a four-way stop double-marked with a blinking red light. And I sat there waiting for it to turn green.

I realized today, or was it yesterday, that I'm a snob. It's true. Not as much as I seem sometimes, I suppose, but I am anyhow. I wonder how I got this way.

I don't think my skirt plan is working. It's gray and raining today.

My family makes me so insecure. I love them, and we have fun together, but I realize that they (and me too) love to make snarky comments behind everyone's back. Everyone else is immature and inconsiderate, but of course they are perfect. And they get all up in arms if someone makes a suggestion about their or their childrens' actions and immediately start attacking the attacker. No so meanly as it sounds of course, but every one has a holier-than-thou attitude and wants to judge everyone else and not be judged themselves and ahhhhhhhhhh.

And I never hear things about myself, but they must talk about me when I'm not around.

I bought a dress last weekend and I wore it to work today and I felt pretty all day long. Dresses are good. And it was sunny and nice today, but, as someone as work said, today could have been both the beginning and end of summer, our one day of summer.

I killed my neck!!

Okay everybody, you've got to help me. It's like a telethon, over the internet, and I'm not asking for money. This week is skirt week. I'm trying to trick Spring into thinking that it's already time to be here. And technically, it is, even though it's just April and we're still in-ing like a lion. I figure, if it sees skirts, it will figure that maybe it hasn't done it's math right and it will come sooner. It works with me, I forget what day and month it is all the time.

Switching gears, I'm going to see about reserving that condo I emailed some peeps about. I want to go, and if no one else does, well then, I'll have a really expensive and quiet week to myself in Maui.

I feel like I need to re-invent myself musically. I want to be into obscure, indie, crazy music that does what no other music does.

Spring is finally here, for today at least. Who knows what season tomorrow will bring.

I had the dumbest bout of nostalgia a little bit ago. I saw, like, six yellow jackets fighting on a lamp post and I missed the days when we all sat outside for lunch and had to run away from the bees. Especially Cassie. I'm thinking I need to take a 3-day weekend and go visit her.