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Dear Sorethroat,

good to hear from you again. I am available tomorrow at 2.30 pm, in O.H. 303 (I moved).

Best wishes,

Prof Hottie.

as i emailed a friend - i'm good - i'm very, very good.

*YOWZA!!!*

~~~~~~floating......~~~~~~

this is great. things are falling ever-so-gently into place. last night, after a talk with socks, i decided that it would be indeed best for me and my soul to QUIT my fucking job, where they treat me SO WONDERFULLY. AND - i will preface the maneuver by selling the cross-country bike i just bought, sort of a "fuck you for your paltry attempts at bringing me into your lifestyle..." to the guys. i rode that bike ONCE. i'm selling it to the other manager, who told the owner SOMETHING about me that prevents me from working at his store. i think i will take his money, hold onto the bike and say "something else - it's $300 AND you tell me what you said, you pussy." i fantasized throwing rocks at him - even a brick, perhaps - as he rode off in fear.

i woke up this morning also vowing to not smoke pot today, save for the partyin' i might be required to do tonight. no more casual chronic usage. ack! i should take up smoking cigarettes instead - at least i would lose weight, rather than gain it. *no, not a good plan.*

anyhoo. the possibility of seeing prof. hottie again - and the fact that he was GLAD I WROTE (ho ho ho) and didn't go "aww, fuck. not this stalker chick again..." has twisted my panties in such an inconceivable fashion.