1:00 p.m. - 2007-07-31

When I spend 50% of the weekend trying to convince my boyfriend that I'm ugly and foul and totally unloveable. And he definitely does not want to be with me no matter what he says. When I unconvincingly try to let him know that it's not his job to save me from becoming Crazy Cat Lady who sews all of her own clothes. And that I'm totally cool with that. And that I'll be teaching myself to knit this winter so that I'll be able to knit sweaters and booties for each and every one of those cats. Not that it'd be in any way a bribe on my part so that they'd maybe hold off on eating my face in the week it would take the authorities to find my body in my sad little one bedroom apartment that smells of catbox after I choke on a chunk of stale PBJ and asphixiate. I'm fat too. Mmmmm, PBJ... Being jealous of the dog. My stoic boyfriend has a 4 year female old basset hound named Penny Lane. Penny is absolutely sweet and pie, but about 12 crayons short of a full box. I've picked up the unfortunate (and thoroughly logical) habit of accusing him of loving the dog more than he does me (which I'm now absolutely POSITIVE he does bc I've been such a haridan lately.) I'm not even sure who I am when I start off on one of these jags. I mean, is it clear here that I've locked on to the idea that my boyfriend loves his dog more than me? How old am I, 12? 4? I might be. I also might be able to best myself even here in terms of utter ridiculousness. Give me time. Just give me time...