Luke wants me to bring him dinner again tonight, only his order is taller than anything previous. He wants me to actually cook him something instead of heating or throwing together. He has requested a tuna melt, juice, and Wheatables. I can do that. I have to plan out my lasagna making in order to have it ready to eat when I get home because I will probably be very hungry, not having eaten anything since 12:00 when I had a bowl of cereal.

Can I just say how much I want the new White Stripes album? They were on Conan every night this week and I do love them so. My only issue with them of late is that Jack White is starting to look like Edward Scissorhands. He�s pale to the point of looking a little beyond the halfway point to dead. Meg is lovely as usual and I want to make her my own. Oh, if only playing with girls weren�t cheating. Not that I�d ever get a chance to play with Meg White, but I can dream. If only I had the $10 it would take to buy Elephant. Alas, I have but $3 to my name at the moment. I asked Luke to ask among his coworkers to see if any of them had it and would burn it for me.

Speaking of dreaming, I had some doozies last night. In one, I dreamt that I was going after the same guy as my mother. He was my age and native Italian and he liked me, so he would make out with me when she was out of the room. Consequently, every time she left the room, it was to change into something sluttier than the outfit before. She started out dressed decently, but at last check, she was wearing a very low cut shirt and some tiny denim skirt with a V cut out of the front. Creepy. Italian boy and I planned to meet up after dinner was over, but I didn�t get that far in the dream. Damn. I also dreamt that a pair of guys had held me prisoner or something and that I beat the crap out of the both of them when the opportunity finally arose.

It is strange to me how in dreams, my strength feels so diminished yet does a fair amount of damage. It never feels as though I�m kicking or punching very hard and I find myself wondering how I manage to injure. I suppose the most important part is that I�m only violent when I need to protect myself. I never strike first, but am always victorious over who was initially my attacker. It usually seems to work that way in real life as well. I�ve never been in a physical fight with anyone other than my brother, but when conflict arises and I am not the one to create the conflict, I always seem to come out on top, looking better than I did before. I can name countless situations in which I was attacked in some way and the perpetrator eventually ended up backing down and apologizing for being such a git. I think it is mainly the facts that I am pretty physically intimidating, and though I�d never hit anyone, it�s best that whomever is trying to fuck me over not know about my pacifism.

I tend to be pretty verbally intimidating as well, I guess. It seems as though only stupid people start fights and it only takes a couple of choice words from a vocabulary as extensive as mine before they�re tied up in proverbial knots and asking me what the hell I�ve just called them. It�s not like I start speaking in tongues, or even Swahili. It�s simply that a lot of people don�t have a decent grasp of the language they claim to be a native speaker of. I�ve had people older than myself tell me that they don�t understand what I�m saying. Bloody dumbing down of America. It makes me so angry that I could spit. I suggested back at Halloween that the kids who didn�t bother to dress up should receive three strips of paper, each with a different word on it, definition and sentence usage included. They don�t need more cavities; they need more words!