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2001-01-26
"Jamie Loves Meeee... Yes, Yes She Does..."
I just recorded a commercial for my new talk show. I hate recording commercials. Imagine when you're making fun of the head cheerleader and using the perkiest voice you can muster - that's what you have to do for a commercial, then maintain that enthusiasm for a minute. A minute is a long time when you're trying to channel Jiminy Cricket.

It's just been weird around here all day. I got a shitty start this morning, but it's been uphill since there. Everyone is just being so damn GOOFY. I've been cracking up all day. I can think of worse days to have.

It's also been one of those days where there's all kinds of stupid drama. Since I'm Switzerland and very rarely directly involved with any given situation here at the station, people love to come up to me and tell me what's up. My job is to nod sympathetically, or raise my eyebrows incredulously, or say things like, "You're kidding!" "That's total bullshit!" or "She's been pissy with everyone all day."

I don't mind, though. At least it keeps me in the loop. God, how I hate office-centric cliches like, "Keep me in the loop." I also hate, "touch base," and... well, I can't think of another one, but those fuckers pop out of my mouth all the time before I even realize it's happening. Don't you love when you annoy yourself?

Go to google.com.

Type in dumb motherfucker

Just like that. Just do it, and quick, before it goes away.

Look at your first result.

Whether you love the man or wish he would perish in a fiery crash, you have to admit, that's a good gag.

My friend Gretchen just informed me that she will be seeing Neil Diamond in person and most likely meeting him. I acted happy, but inside, I was seething with jealousy.

That's right. I'm a 24 year old woman. I'm often seen in leather pants and low cut shirts. I drink gin and tonics and am a pool shark. I'm a cool motherfucker.

And I love Neil Diamond.

I really do.

Here's where you see the depths of my love for Neil Diamond. Hold my hand, children. It's scary, but we'll make it through.

A couple of years ago, I went to a Neil Diamond concert. With my parents. I was by far the youngest person there. I almost bought a "heartlight," but changed my mind at the last minute. I own a Neil Diamond box set. I know all the words to "Sweet Caroline," "Cracklin' Rosie," and countless others. You should see me jam out in the car whenever I hear, "Cherry Cherry." Don't even get me started on "Song Sung Blue."

I've infected others. Don't you get too close to me! Neil Diamond love is highly contagious. This is for your protection.

I hope I haven't ruined this journal experience with my intense love for Neal Diamond, light rock for senior citizens everywhere. Next thing you know, I'll be watching Matlock with Abe Simpson and giving Sophia Petrillo phone books so she can drive me around. No, I'm just kidding.

But if loving Neil Diamond is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

The Realm of Monkey Love
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