17:24 - July 17, 2002
female bonding
By working at the Garden, I've gotten my first taste of what it's like to be part of a giggly pseudosisterhood full of toenail painting enthusiasts and squealers over Brad Pitt and people who actually care about matching clothes and listen to Faith Hill. Not that I LIKE it. Oh, no. And poor Steven, in his center cubicle, the girly action unfolding all around him... that is not what it sounds like I mean. What I mean is Heather's got her Brad Pitt screen saver and doesn't know who George Harrison was, but she's young, she can be excused. The rest are the ones who insist on tuning the radio to 100.3, 'light rock'. And do each other's makeup, and talk about dieting. The thing is, this literally makes me sick, as I munch constantly on my garlic Triscuits and thick turkey sandwich with cucumbers and sour cream and avocado and sprouts, which is much healthier that I've ever eaten before ever, and they think it's such a big deal to eat lunch. They do it anyway, to get away from their desks. But then they bitch about how they'll be fat and never get a date and never get married and never have children and never be a success in life and die alone on the top of a mountain in a log cabin with only the wolves to keep them company.

Now, I've never considered myself particularly 'counterculture', if only for the fact that I'm too lazy, but if the bonding (bondage) of sisterhood in the real world is as such, please, my nonexistent Lord, count me out. Forever. Amen.

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