April 08, 2003 @ 1:23 a.m.
A short list of the worries that plague my times

Things that are currently worrying me:

- Tonight I coined the phrase "frosty frosty dead chick" and I can't for the life of me remember why or what it was in relation to.

- We watched Blue Velvet today in my visual culture (which is like film studies, art history, photography and porn all rolled into one great heaving mass of a subject) class. I have my tutorial for that subject tomorrow (well, technically today), and my entire critical analysis of the film consists of me mentally referring to the bad dude (Frank? I can't fucking remember) as "Tourette's Syndrome Bad Guy".

- I think my cat is secretly a fascist. She was sitting on my lap tonight, not because she loves me but because I was sitting on her favourite armchair, and she kept doing the Nazi salute thing. It was freaky. It wasn't stretching, because she only did it with one front leg and it was very calculated and exaggerated. Now Deirdre keeps calling me the Furrer.

- I can't seem to extract my foot from my mouth. This is nothing unusual, but I think I need to refrain from banging on about how Communism really isn't all that evil in front of Russian people.

- Whenever I watch Sex and the City, I keep a running verbal commentary on the outfits, which often involves shreiking "Oh no, Carrie, NO!" This would be somewhat more acceptable if I weren't slouched in front of the idiot box in grubby, bashed-up jeans and a t-shirt with spaghetti sauce stains down the front.

- I realised the other day that I will never be able to seriously date a glam rocker, because I just couldn't hack the competition for the mirror, and nor am I willing to share my makeup.

- Stuart suggested that my recent compulsive masturbation habit may actually be more of a procrasturbation habit, given my current Uni workload, and I've got a horrible feeling he's right. Which somewhat slays my theory that I'm a maximum-mojo studmuffinette.

- One of my dear friends wrote to me for job advice. Not the best of ideas, considering this is my employment history: potatoes, envelopes, erotica zine editor, barmaid, porn shop muppet, English tutor, chocolate body sauce girl at Sexpo, vibrator pimp at Sexpo, and library officer.

- The other day I had the Marilyn Manson song "User Friendly" stuck in my head for two days. Then after that I had "Hit the Road, Jack" in my head for two days. Which sucked because the only words I know are "Hit the road, Jack, and don't you come back no more no more no more no more...". FOR TWO DAYS. Then I was singing it in the kitchen a few days ago and it came out as "Hit the road, Jack/and don't you come back no more no more no more no more/My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hon". Sir Mix-a-Lot has this way of hijacking me when I least expect it.

And that's about the extent of it, really.

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