mnvnjnsn's Diary

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There are many things in my life upon which I have an unhealthy reliance. Some are sweet (cats!) and some are borderline illegal (Vicodin!). Here I shall outline my crutches. Kids, don't try this at home.

  • Pharmaceuticals In a way, I'm addicted to many of the pills and shots I take. Withdrawal symptoms of insulin happens to be death. So, this may not be considered a "crutch" per se, but psychologically, I see many of my drugs as (1) an escape, (b) an excuse or (iii) a measure of coolness. Yes, I know I'm far too old to care about being "cool" anymore, but I can't help that bit of satisfaction I feel when I pull out my tiny Altoids tin and pop a pill that put lesser men in hospital.
  • Diet Cola Coke or Pepsi or Safeway Select, I'm not a brand whore. I'm just a sugar-free soda slut. I blame my mother, god bless 'er, for giving me Diet Rite instead of milk when I was three. I scoff at bone loss! Throw me another pop.
  • Cats I've had cats as long as I can remember. If I didn't have cats, I'd have to sing to my furniture and snuggle with the plants. Cats and I have a symbiotic relationship: I feed, house and care for them, they grace me with a purr on occasion and allow me to talk to them. It's a win-win!
  • Airheads This is a new one, and I blame the Regal Cinemas kids pack for it. They're like Skittles without the candy shell, and they come in flavo(u)rs just tart enough to make you smile. I eat more than I care to admit, movie or not.
  • The Internet Email, AIM, guestbooks, message boards, I love it all. I love that the medium is all in print. I love exercising my spelling skills and finding proofreading errors in official websites. I love reading other people's journals. I love writing about whatever is pickling my corn at the moment. I love that I can write "Pickling my corn" and make people read it. Love it.

There are other things: Alcohol, Q-tips, breakfast foods served later than 2pm, pedicures, spoons with Trevor Dunnigan on a Saturday morning surrounded by sleepy cats. Lack of any one of these could throw me into a serious funk, fit or coma.

So next time you see me, you can pinch my cheek and coo "Who's the high maintenence crazy-person? You are! Oh, yes you are!"

Do it at your own risk, of course. You can't tell by looking if I've had my diet coke or sung a song to my cats that day.

4:53 p.m. - 2003-07-07


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