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23 December 1998 |
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Not much writing going on tonight. I have a headache, and the intense need to sleep, which tells me it's a mini-migraine. They don't come with visual effects like the whoppers do, it's only the extreme drowsiness that tips me off. Tension headaches don't do that to me. I need to remember that there are always lots of sides to a story, and that most stories don't include all the details. I have been wrong to suspect my friends. There was more to Roy and Angela's story, ugly and hard details, but it makes Roy's reaction more understandable. The details have to do with drug abuse, particularly when pregnant, repeatedly. They also have to do with a kind of emotional extortion. There was more to the massage story. It was the only shop he knew that took walk-ins, and he thought they were rather good with the therapeutic tecnique. And no, he didn't take the hand-job finish-off, this time, heh. El Prez is off on vacation tonight, braving snow up here and ice in the Carolinas, to visit his father in Florida. I myself am outta here Saturday. That'll leave the Droid, which she isn't, by the way. We did a great job hiring her. She is sharp and funny and highly organized, which is exactly what we needed. Droid picks up the computer stuff right away and is constantly finding better ways to do the things we do. And yet she isn't ambitious, not in the ladder climbing, butt kissing way. She simply sets it before herself to do the best job possible and takes it from there. I love that. I think El Prez has something of a crush on Droid, which is understandable. She's a pretty fun person, certainly easy to be around and talk to. Ok, that's it, I'm going to sleep. --Spring
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