Betrayal

... is a bitter, bitter pill. I feel so dirty. Yesterday's video? The one I raved over and commented on how I was crushing on him but not in any other video? Yes, well that would be because that wasn't Gabe. It was a film student named Liam. A seventeen year old film student named Liam.

I should have myself arrested. God, what a disappointment. I'd still lick him from head to toe, once the pacifier has been removed and he has celebrated his 18th birthday.

Other shit: Popcorn. WTF is with people and the making of popcorn? The popcorn eater at work is at large and the aroma of popped corn permeates the air in my living residence. I cannot stand the smell of lingering popcorn. Reminiscent of urinals.

Clearly I'm in a pristine mood today. My apologies. I'll shake the cobwebs free by tomorrow.

Note to self: "Mia, bring garlic cloves to work. Place in microwave and set for thirty minutes. This means war."

Being Venus

I wonder about the plot drivers of Angels and Demons. Secret societies in particular. One expert said, "The purpose of all secret societies is to rule the masses." Did he poll them? If they're secret, how do we know he speaks the truth? Wouldn't a secret society lose its secret status if it confessed to goals of world domination? And what if there were a secret society which wanted no more than to replace all margarine products with the real butter but didn't speak up as they were better secret keepers than the other secret societies?

Another curiosity. The Illuminati means, "The Enlightened Ones". Of course they were. If you lived in a time without electricity, wore long robes and hoods, moved about at night with candles, you too would light the wick, no? Perhaps they meant only to bear a flame so as not to trip on slippery unlit steps of ancient cathedrals.

Other shit: I still haven't located the popcorn culprit. I'd nearly forgotten but I got in to work yesterday and found several kernels beneath my chair. I know this because I ducked under my desk to pick up a dropped pen when D walked by. I've been able to avoid him successfully since my stint as Fountain Venus. Apparently my bravado in front of the coworkers was short lived. Or it may have had something to do with the coffee stain on the front of my blouse. Either way, I didn't think before I ducked. Pure instinct. Cunning and mature, no?

Luckily, my pen was found easily enough.

Note to self: "Mia, splatter more coffee on front and claim the blouse is a new Rorschach pattern in vogue for Summer."

Mystery

Odd competition at work place. Are to grow bean sprouts in Styrofoam cups. Not sure of purpose unless is to taunt us of giant riches not attainable, unless we are named Jack.

Found popcorn kernels underneath work space yesterday. Mystery. Must uncover popcorn eater and reason for snacking at my desk. Hm. Am assuming snacker has popcorn fetish and fantasies regarding outdated Caveman calendar.

Note to self: "Mia, discover if boss is closet perv. Is known to consume popcorn. Mystery may be simple indeed."

New Obsession

New Obsession. Burned popcorn. Tastes sweet and dissolves on my tongue deliciously. Wonder what else tastes good burned. Like burned bacon already. Will have to treat my coworkers to smell of burned popcorn. They will appreciate me for the effort.

Note to self: "Mia, practise look of pure innocence. Must convince coworkers that S is responsible for smell."