First thing this morning, Rico My Main Maintenance Man comes to my office in sayin', "I gotta tell you somethin', Boo. I know it's hot, but I've turned off the fire and turned on the ice, so if they's icicles comin' out the vents, I don't want to hear no cryin'."

I love Rico. He's a beautiful man, with a beautiful smile and a 48-inch chest. He's 60+ but looks 40, and for as long as I've known him, he's never said anything but the truth.

But, he lied to me! I see no icicles! Everyone's wandering around the building all shiny and lethargic, every movement is a miserable blurry slow motion slog through the balm. I feel like I've been dipped in vaseline. I'm sitting here at my computer, strategically fanning my naughties by lifting and lowering my skirt when the hall leading to my office is empty and I'm sure that no one is looking.

One thing about living alone ... when I'm uncomfortably warm, my first instinct is to strip. That don't fly in public. OK, scratch that. Replace "public" with "the office," and you have my dilemma. It's hotter in here than it is outside, probably because no one has windows that open. What the hell is the point of having windows if they don't open? It's like being on a fucking airplane. A stationary airplane in the ghetto. Yuck.

On the other hand, plenty of things to gush about.

1) I've been listening to Yo La Tengo, Crooked Fingers, and Eels all day. I recommend that if you're down, pop in the new Yo La Tengo album, and all will be groovy in a matter of minutes.

2) My boss, CFO, is one of the sweetest men EVER. No particular reason for that squirt of affection. I just like him. He wears the best cologne I've ever smelled, but I don't want to ask him what it is for fear of sounding sketchy. I mean, I could make up an excuse and say I wanted to buy it for my boyfriend, but that could be interpreted as "I want my boyfriend to smell just like you," which would be weird. Or I could say I wanted to buy it for my dad, but I think that would be weirder. I could ask his wife next time she came to the office, but ... no. NO! The hell.

3) I've started "My Antonia," and I think I'm going to love it.

It's been a while since I've updated, but not much of consequence has happened. I do think I'm going to find another naturopath, thanks to y'all who advised me to do so. Good to know I'm not insane or juvenile for considering it. I have a follow-up appointment in a few weeks, so I'll give Robodoc one more chance, but if she don't warm up, I'll move on. Too bad, really.

OK ...

Friday I went to a fundraising party with Meghan. An improv group was trying to raise money to fund their trip to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, so we paid $10 at the door to drink a helluvalot and hang out with funny people all night. I didn't know anyone except for Meghan, but I love parties where I don't know anyone. For some reason, I'm at my charming best in those situations, as I am in dark, smoky dive bars. Clubs and other meat-markets, on the other hand, unequivocably make me want to kill myself.

No, but happy. Party. I'm happy to say, I held my own among the self-proclaimed funnyfolk, and I didn't even have to get too hammered. Hey, how's that for a statement from a budding alcoholic? Kidding.

Oh, before the party, I was having a really crappy self-esteem day, and spent an hour on the phone with my parents, crying like a foo' on the curb on Chicago and State. It's rare that I open up to them on the phone, so it was actually very helpful. I didn't realize how much I missed them, but I think they're going to try to finagle a visit soon. Christ, what a baby I am.

Saturday I did some errands, then went to see the play "Apocolyptic Butterflies" with a friend from my acting class. Very good play. Smart, and funny, and actually had a happy ending. Very rare for good one-act plays these days to manage to be both happy and thought-provoking. Afterwards, my friend and I were discussing the play, and I was going over all that I was thinking about in the audience. My friend was all, "You've been busy." I was all, "Yeah."

COOKIES! You ever just want cookies? Cookies ...

Sunday I ... oh, shit ... what did I do yesterday?

Um ... OH! I'm in a show, and I had my first rehearsal. It's a murder mystery, noir-type show with a group I've performed with in the past. Puppets are going to be involved, and I'm very excited. I already know and love most of the cast members and production team, so rehearsal was really fun. Then I went home, talked to some people on the phone, and rented and watched "Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael" to keep up with my personal goal to see every mediocre movie that I missed when it was in the theatre.

Is it just me, or has Winona Ryder gotten more annoying the more her career has escalated? And I mean as an actor, not as a celebrity... I don't care, really, that she stole a bunch of stuff from Saks. It was lame of her, but whatever. She seems sort of wacky, and I'd hang out with her. Timothy Leary was her godfather or some shit. How could that be bad? But as an actor ... I loved her performances in "Roxy Carmichael" and "Beetlejuice" way more than I did in "That Crazy Girl in the Institution Movie" the name of which I forget.

Which brings us to today, Monday. Sweating in the office. Broken A/C. Lying Rico. I have a voice lesson tonight, and I'm sad to say I may have to find a less-pricey voice teacher, although I love my current one. After voice, I might go hang out at Alissa's, but it'll be late and I'm lame, so probably not.

Time to go home. My home has air conditioning. Home. Little home of mine.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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