Lunch fell through. Alas. The Japanese joint I frequent usually tops out at about $20 per person and I have to be honest with myself; until I rake in that first paycheck, I can't even afford to buy a pack of smokes every two days, let alone splurge on food.

So I had oatmeal instead. It was highly inferior. Woe.

Sometimes I catch myself wondering about sordid office affairs. I used to joke with my friend Jeremy about being his secretary and slinking into his office only to have him take me on his desk, his name-plate imprinting his name into my ass, business cards flying, sticking to our sweaty bodies... it's hilarious in my head.

But there will be none of that. I love my boy. Besides, why would I settle for an inferior product? No one will ever match up to him sack-wise. He is the Japanese food to their oatmeal.

My parents are leaving for seven days tomorrow morning. Now, if only my sister would choke on prozac and die, maybe I could finally get some peace.