Hey You! I Know Who You Are, and It's Pissing Me Off!
01/16/2004
4:40 p.m.
Y'know, I find it very frustrating when I ask a coworker to not read my journal(Almost 6 months ago), and then I go and find their IP address on my stats. I asked you in my journal and in person to not read this. I find it rude and immature that you are now copping an attitude with me. Yeah, I caught you. Don't be a jackass. I shouldn't have to apologize for not wanting you all up in my personal business. I have my reasons for not wanting you to read this. I don't have to explain them to you. Be a man. Show some respect for our working relationship and BUG OFF! ************************************Sorry to everyone who is not the above person. I've just had it up to here, and sometimes you just gotta be mean to get a point across. And trust me, I can be a real bitch when you betray me. Zoloft can attest to that. This journal is such a catch-22. It's very voyeuristic, but only to a point. I don't mind strangers or my friends reading this, but I don't want my family or coworkers knowing where it is. What's up with that? Is that normal? Let me put that question out to those that stumble upon this address: Who do you want reading your journal, and who do you not want reading your journal? Answer however you want - comments, guestbook, notes, email, whatever. If you think I'm just plain nuts, let me know. If you think I've discovered one of the great secrets of the world, drop me a line. If you just think I'm plain sexy, send flowers. ************************************I believe I've discovered the reason why so many Americans are overweight. It's not fast food. It's not laziness. It's not America's unusual food marvels like Sonic's Pancake on a Stick or those mysterious fried twinkies. It's because of the gas. All healthy food gives you gas. I'm serious. I have spent the past week modifying my diet, discovering new low-fat or sugar-free foods that actually taste good, and battling the constant gas that has been accompanying me ever since. I betcha that if we bottled it all up, we could probably float a hot-air balloon across Central Park. There are probably times I should really think about what I tell you guys. Anyways, cherry diet coke? Tastes like week-old bitter crap with a hint of cherry. ************************************BTW, I just want everyone to know that: My name is Lysistrata, and I'm a stats whore. Yes, it's about time I came out of the dark and let you good folks know that I luv when you people comment on my entries. I get chills when you leave me a note. And I practically pee my pants when you list me in your favorites. So let's see if we can't keep me in love, constant goosebumps, and wet pants.
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� Lysistrata 2003-2004
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