There used to be people in there. I found a couple of good journals that way. Now, it's like everyone sees me logging in and is like, "Here comes Jamie with her sarcastic shit that isn't funny... Logging out!"

Neal and I didn't do anything on that evil sappy Valentine's Day, so he has a surprise planned for me. I have a serious love-hate relationship with surprises. I adore being surprised. There's something about someone thinking about you and deciding to not only plot something, but to keep his or her mouth shut about it so you're caught off-guard and delighted. It rocks.

But ladies and gentlemen, it's time for me to admit something dark and terrible. Hold my hand.

I was born without the enzyme responsible for patience. I am patience-deficience, also known as hyper-impatient and hypo-patient. I give myself painful injections of patience-juice every single afternoon, but it's not enough. It doesn't fix the problem, but merely keeps me on an even keel and prevents me from being a danger to others. Usually.

Many a person has laughed hysterically while standing to the side and watching me wait in line at the bank. Lines are my nemesis. (We'll discuss my love-hate relationship with amusement parks another time.) It's ridiculous. I can't stand still, and constantly play with or look at or read or talk to everything and everyone around me. Dad once yelled at me for taking the teller's name plate out of the holder and putting it back upside-down... before he said anything, I didn't even realize I had done it.

You: "Neal lives with this freak. Poor fucker."

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. Not knowing what this weekends surprise is is DRIVING ME OUT OF MY CUTE LITTLE GOURD. I wonder every 5 minutes. I'm going to love Neal for whatever he has planned, and them I'm going to kill him for taunting me with it.

I'm also thinking about sex a lot today. First of all, I got some last night. Secondly, I think 4 of you have been upgraded to Porn Stars, and it's just going to everyone's head. You know, I had no idea some of you were such funny motherfuckers until I put up that forum. You people are going to get me fired, but it's worth it.

I went and had drinks with Shawn last night. She's pretty funny. We somehow, the conversation turned to butt sex. (I told you I had sex on the brain.) Shawn also develops some sort of accent when she's drunk, but I can't identify it. Sort of Hispanic. I fall into a cross between my old school Pittsburgh accent and the lovely hick-ish Midwestern accent that I'm pissed I ever picked up. It's quite fetching. Why do people do that?

How can I find out if a person I used to know died? I only heard a rumor, and have been unable to confirm it.

Why the hell am I so hungry? Oh! I forgot to eat dinner last night!

OK, I've jumped around and rambled enough for today. I'd tell you what I'm doing this weekend, but...

I CAN'T.

Damn it.