Damn!

I managed to hunt down a copy of Advocate last night. It was hidden in Barnes and Nobles, behind the current event periodicals. Literally hidden. When I went to the help desk the guy said "oh, look on the center shelf in the current events section". He *should* have said "conveniently covered up by everything else". No wonder I couldn't find it in Manhattan. In the East Village, no less. I expect more from there, don't ask me why. Bobby's cover turn on Out was right next door. I'm still wondering whether I should pick that one up.

Eh...but DAMN. That first picture made it all worthwhile.

I'm such a pathetic young woman.

But, damn man. DAMN. Hal *Sparks*, indeed.

And the...uh...article was pretty kick-ass too. No, seriously, have you checked out the outtakes? If not, click on the link in my last entry.

Just when I think I've made it out..

Dad brings home Samoas. Sweet Lord in heaven, it's like they've discovered my kryptonite (besides Woodchucks and Nutella, of course). Don't those Girl Scouts ever give up?

Today was my off-day but I ended up being recruited by my aunt to spent some time playing receptionist at the business. She has a habit of calling my brothers and I at the last minute and then guilting us into spending time helping her out in one way or another. It would have been more fun if I had a functioning PC to fiddle with in the main office, but some kid of the former receptionist royally fucked up the computers, leaving me with the option of reading The Daily News, then the Times, and then re-reading The Advocate. Fun times. This new guy she brought in to help pick up some of the slack since my uncle's passing had the nerve to tell me that I was going to have to start "working" there full-time. Note the quotation marks around working. Any time I spend in the shop is unpaid because the business has fallen into disarray since the time my uncle fell ill. Who is *he* to tell *me* what I'm going to have to do with my time? Even now the ridiculousness of the situation has me annoyed, frustrated, and fuckin' angry. I have much love for my aunt, but I need to get paid to work. And there's no way in hell I'm going to work 40 hours at the Shack and then clock in 40 hours at the shop when I'm not getting any compensation. Gawd, why am I even wasting time on this? especially since it was that dickwad (who I don't know from Adam) and not my aunt (the de facto owner) who told me that.

ANYwho, I got into Samaritans. Or, at the very least, they deemed me sane enough to endure their military-like training session. I guess there's something to cheer about there.

Still sick. Somewhat tired and achey now. I need money. But, eh, who doesn't?