My Neck Hurts and I'm Deaf

Dear Diary,

I don't know if you know this, but I have a long history of hypochondria. Well, depending on how you look at it I either have a long history of hypochondria or a long history of very serious diseases (from all of which I miraculously recovered). Here is a list:

1. leukemia (1990)
2. brain tumor (1992)
3. ventricular fibrillation (1993--2002)
4. AIDS (1995)
5. Lou Gehrig's disease (1998)
6. AIDS again (2000)
7. obesity (2003--2006)
8. anorexia (2006)
9. stomach cancer (2006)
10. brain tumor again (2006)
11. meningitis (current)
12. hysterical blindness (intermittent)
13. hysterical deafness (current)
14. generalized anxiety disorder with panic attacks (duh)

That's my medical history, in a nutshell. I can't wait to have a kid upon whom I can inflict munchausen by proxy.

Love, Fluffy

Sax on the Beach!

Dear Diary,

This weekend was Girls' Beach Weekend 2006:

1) we ate 10,000 crabs
2) i got us free shots
3) we flirted with a romanian bartender
4) we pet a dog
5) friend M bought a necklace with a chinese on it (or maybe it was hebrew)
6) i flung my shirt from the top of the ferris wheel
7) we didn't get old timey photos, because we spent too long doing number 3

Love, Fluffy

And.... shift.

Dear Diary,

The BHE are having a disagreement. Lately he has been chaufferring me to work in my car, because his is a piece of crap. Driving my car is very traumatic for him for two reasons: 1) it has a bumper sticker that says "I'd do a day for Martha" and 2) it has a manual transmission. The BHE does not like the manual transmission. He heaves and sighs and makes dramatic outbursts about how he can't drink his coffee.

We are thinking of buying a new car. I insist that it be a manual transmission. Automatics are for pussies, in my opinion. Driving an automatic is not really driving. Also it is creepy how they go when you take your foot off the brake. I could go on. The BHE is making much noise about how he does NOT want a manual transmission. It's become a source of contention. Is this the kind of conflict that Dr. Phil would call a "deal breaker"? I wonder. I tell hijm he just needs to learn how to drive.

What the BHE doesn't realize is that even if we DO get an automatic, he'll still be driving a manual because I will claim the new car for myself and make him drive mine anyway.

Hard work, this marriage thing.

Love, Fluffy

No Bells, Definitely No Whistles

Dear Diary,

I'm feeling very continental today, what with the imminent World Cup and the Greek techno blasting in the deli. And speaking of the deli, thank you to the lovely man who made my egg and cheese sandwich and gave me free coffee just for being cute. (At least, that's my guess. They don't give free coffee to just anyone, now do they?)

Sister A is in town with her FOUR children, Sister B with her two children, and my brother with his three children. I won't go into how my family simply disregards me and the BHE because we have no children. But my family simply disregards me and the BHE because we have no children. So it's bound to be a great weekend.

I don't care what anyone says; our dogs are getting in the family photo, because we're weird like that.

Love, Fluffy

In the Habit Like a Nun

Dear Diary,

I am lately in the habit:

• obsessively reading gawker.com
• obsessively doing sudoku
• obsessively checking the interest accrual of my orange savings account (Dude, that shit is at like 4.25%! I'm making TWO DOLLARS A MONTH.)
• obsessing about whether or not to buy a Scion. (When I told my brother we were considering it, he started making techno beats at me. I've been listening to Daft Punk to prepare.)
• obsessing about my weight (too fat, too thin, who knows anymore?)

Also, the BHE and I are changing our last name. We're going to be the Barker-Finches. Fluffy Barker-Finch does have a nice ring, no? Imagine: "We're having cocktails with the Barker-Finches tonight. Lovely, aren't they? Ra-ther."

Love, Fluffy

You removed it??? WHY??????

When this kid gets older and he finds out that he could have had three arms, he's gonna be pissed. Who wouldn't want a third arm? Just imagine the possibilities.

Three-armed baby

Trash Sandwich

Dear Diary,

Earlier today, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich for lunch. After a few bites, I lost interest so I wrapped it back up and put it in the wastebssket (in my cube). But about an hour later, I realized I was starving. So I took my sandwich out of the trash and ate the rest of it. Is that gross? I hope nobody saw me.

Love, Fluffy