Alright, I�m in a much better mood right now. I�ve got this chip on my shoulder, though, wonder how long I�ll hold that one up before I begin to get an ache in my back. Let�s see how strong she is, folks! How long can I hold up through the day thinking I�m on a higher level than everyone around me? How unloving is that? Ah, but work, the people here, they have that effect on me. Funny, the day has actually been a hundred times better than I imagined. Well, the first half of it was. Then my manager said the most absurd, ridiculous and illogical fucking thing I�ve ever heard. I�m not even going to repeat it, it�s so dumb. I was rockin�, we were on top of things, the day was flying by. And then, she said what she said with complete and utter conviction, as if her words could actually make sense in any language.

I stared at her blankly for a moment, then caught myself in this dumbfounded position and chose to do one of those rude, �Heh-sigh� things. You know, kind of like a half-scoff, Romie & Michelle�s High School Reunion noise? Well, I did it. And I laughed that empty, cold laugh all the way back to my office to sit in my bitter incredulity. Where I still am. Hence, that big heavy chip on my shoulder that I really do need to get over soon, if I�m going to get anywhere in life. But I�m digressing again.

These guys are coming down this weekend, guys from LA. I�m a tad bit concerned about this. It�s one thing if people are stopping by on a visit to the city, you know, with their own agendas and I could be along for the ride, etc. Another thing completely if I am expected to entertain and host some kind of Barbarella extravaganza for three men. One of these guys is Mr. Camp David himself, the one who said he�d give his house in the Palisades to me for the weekend of my birthday. Mr. Generous, Mr. Tour Manager, Mr. who is almost 75% responsible for the warm welcome I received at the parties in LA last weekend. Yeah, him. Totally awesome and wonderful man, only I really didn�t feel like seeing him THIS weekend, I kinda wanted to lay low, hang out locally, not feel like anything is expected of me. I�m having issues with that. Expectation, obligation, I don�t want anyone to rely on me for anything right now. How horrible is that? What kind of person am I that I don�t want to be relied on, depended on, trusted?

Wow, this is definitely an afternoon ramble if I ever saw one. The weekend will work itself out, I�m sure. These feelings I�m having, these stresses, they are mine, and I am assuming that these guys are putting all these expectations on me, when for all I know, they could have just as much fun if we all sat at home and Kitty gave pedicures. Sigh. I just get myself worked up into a tizzy when I�m like this, when I�m frustrated, when I�m annoyed with people in general. When I�m annoyed with myself, really. I�ll have to get on that. And soon. Because soon, I WILL be having a Barbarella Extravaganza, and I will expect people to have expectations, for the mere purpose of exceeding them. It�s a hobby that you REALLY have to be in the mood for. My birthday is in less than a month.

Last year, my party ended in a mid-morning, drug-induced, orgyistic frolic-fest in the backyard of a friend�s house. God, that party rocked. This year, I want the lackadaisical weekend lounge-fest (to end however it decides to end, as long as everyone, especially me, is smiling). Hee hee. Hey, it�s my BIRTHDAY, for Barb�s sake. I can do what I want, am I right? Yeah, I�m right. Never doubted it for a second. Great, now I�m right back where I started with my heavy chip and my attitude. God help those who encounter me before 5pm today. God help them. If she says anything even remotely close to the banal idiocy of what she said earlier, there may just be a bitch-slap a�comin�. And it ain�t gonna be hitting ME, that�s for fucking sure. Ooh, she�s in a mood! Watch that one. She hisses. And she bites, hard. Rowr.

-Barbarella

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